夫人英语the differences between British and American humour

2021年1月19日发(作者：制胜法宝)
You could spend a lot of time exploring the differences between British
and
American
comedy
only
to
reach
the
conclusion
that,
ironically,
they're
pretty much the same. Back when director Edgar Wright and myself were
writing our debut feature, Shaun Of The Dead, we were certainly banking
on a comic universality in the story of a suburban waster battling the
living dead. We had every confidence that the humour would translate.
Indeed, we made only one subtle dialogue adjustment during the writing
process, changing the word
confusion
between
the
conditions
of
being
munted
and
mardy.
The
film
went
on
to
enjoy
surprising
success
in
the
US,
suggesting
that
surmounting
the
supposed gulf between our respective senses of humour requires nothing
more than a light skip.
When it comes to humour, however, there is one cultural myth that just
won't die. You hear it all the time from self-appointed social
commentators sat astride high horses, dressed as knights who say,
They don't get it. They never had it. They don't know what it is and,
ironically,
they
don't
want
it
anyway.
That's
right:

don't
do
irony.
true. Although
it
is true that
we British do
use irony a little more often than our special friends in the US. It's
like the kettle to us: it's always on, whistling slyly in the corner of
our daily interactions. To Americans, however, it's more like a nice
teapot, something to be used when the occasion demands it. This is why
an
ironic
comment
will
sometimes
be
met
with
a
perplexed
smile
by
an
unwary
American.
Take
this
exchange
that
took
place
between
two
friends
of
mine,
one British (B), the other American (A):
B:
A:
B:
A:
Now,
my
American
friend
was
being
neither
thick
nor
obtuse
here;
he
simply
didn't immediately register the need to bury emotion under humour. This
tendency is also apparent in our differing use of disclaimers. When
Americans
use
irony, they
will
often
immediately
qualify
it
as being
so,
with a jovial
plainly ironic. For instance...
A:
kidding.
Of
course,
being
America,
this
might
be
true,
because
they
do
all
own
guns
and use them on a regular basis (just kidding). Americans can fully
appreciate irony. They just don't feel entirely comfortable using it on
each other, in case it causes damage. A bit like how we feel about guns.
It's not so much about having a different sense of humour as a different
approach to life. More demonstrative than we are, Americans are not
embarrassed by their emotions. They clap louder, cheer harder and
empathise more unconditionally. It's an openness that always leaves me
feeling
slightly
guilty
and
apologetic
when
American
personalities
appear
on British chat shows
and find their
jokes and stories
met with titters,
not guffaws, or their achievements met with silent appreciation, rather
than
claps
and
yelps.
We
don't
like
them
any
less,
we
just
aren't
inclined
to give that much of ourselves away. Meanwhile, as a Brit on an American
chat show, it's difficult to endure prolonged whooping without intense,
red-faced smirking.
Of course, it's the mainstream output of our respective entertainment
industries
that
tends
to
shape
our
general
opinion
of
each
other.
Ask
the
average
American
what
they
perceive
British
comedy
to
be
and
you
will
most
likely be quoted shows such as Benny Hill and Are You Being Served?
(although, thanks to BBC America, this is beginning to change). The fan
demographic
for
both
shows
is
markedly
more
diverse
than
in
their
country
of origin. This is probably due to their parochial peculiarity, rather
than the quality of the comedy (although both shows had their moments)
and perhaps explains why the American
audience took to Shaun Of
The Dead
with
such
affection.
A
refusal
to
occupy
that
transatlantic
middle
ground
that
sometimes
scuppers
British
films
intent
on
appealing
in
America
means
that
the
film
plays
as
resolutely
British.
That
approach
does
risk
certain
social and cultural references being lost in translation. But not many.
The only joke in Shaun Of The Dead that never got a laugh in the States
was Ed's request for a Cornetto ice cream at 8am on a Sunday morning.
Overall, the cast's understated reserve in the face of flesh- eating
zombies just added another layer of amusement for American viewers.
When
it
comes
to
their
mainstream,
America's
emotional
openness
has
often
given
way
to
a
sentimentality
that
jars
with
our
more
guarded
and
cynical
outlook. This is why the initially enjoyable Happy Days became blighted
by saccharine lessons in family values, as Henry Winkler's originally
subversive Fonzie was mercilessly appropriated by the middle-class
American
family,
castrated
by
Marion
Ross's
Mrs
Cunningham
and
forced
to
sit on it (although it's interesting to note that in outtakes from the
series, Winkler and Ross would often play out an irresistible sexual
tension between them with stolen gropes and kisses, solely for the
enjoyment
of
the
live
studio
audience,
hinting
at
darker,
more
interesting