North Star Writers Group

Thanks to Singing in the Rain, the latter generations of the 20^th century were able to relive what must have been the extraordinary experience of not only watching, but also hearing, moving figures on a screen. It must have been a most humbling incident.

But as usual, the public at large had no idea of the magnitude of what was coming. Although never immortalized by classic cinema, one can only imagine the first time some poor sap sat down in his living room to watch his favorite sitcom, commenced to chuckle, and had the horrifying experience of being overpowered by the uproarious laughter of one hundred unfamiliar voices. He must have hurried for his fire stoker and checked every room, closet, storage container and kitchen cabinet for intruders, only to be teased and prodded by the continuing bellows that really did seem to be emanating from the television.

Apparently, the idea for the laugh track was actually an evolved form of the phrase, “buhdum- CHHH,” which is still used today. “The Flintstones”’ creators inserted the phrase after every humorous joke or situation because they knew that most viewers would never know if or when something was supposed to be funny. Whether it was the quality of the script-writers or the viewers themselves they distrusted, creators were certainly onto something when they figured that something a bit less discrete than the joke itself would make the experience of watching a sitcom considerably less tiring.

Next came the sound of the cymbal, which, everyone agreed, sounded much better. But before long, someone spoke up and said, “You know, folks. Percussion has nothing to do with humor. We ought to simply record ourselves laughing, and trick the audience into thinking there are people peeking in their living room windows who happen to know exactly when they’re supposed to laugh.” It was this individual who originally stumbled upon one of the truest characteristics of humanity during that particular era. No one, except the people who fund comedic endeavors, knows whether or not something is truly funny. We may know what seems funny to us, but how can we ever really know for sure? The truth is, back then we couldn’t, and that was a problem.

It was laugh tracks that softened the transition from moving picture comedy without sound to moving picture comedy with sound. Quite frankly, it was the laugh track that put television comedy on the map.

With the emergence of the 21^st century, however, television audiences are beginning to trust themselves. We are transitioning once again. Shows such as “Malcolm in the Middle” and “Scrubs” have helped television executives to begin ushering out the era of the laugh track. However, the latest transition has not descended without substantial collateral damage. “Arrested Development”, one of the wittiest, edgiest shows to emerge in the last five years, was canceled due to low viewership. Apparently, without a laugh track, viewers found themselves without the familiar assurance of unfamiliar voices that say, “Recline lazily assured that we think it’s funny too.” All of a sudden people were watching a show that seemed funny, but in the meantime, they found themselves alone on their couches, asking aloud, “Am I really the only one laughing at this?”

No, there were others. But it is your fault a brilliant comedy fell by the wayside. Some of us have been more affected than others. The younger demographic may find itself slightly more prepared to enjoy laugh-track-free programming, but anyone who claims that their lives as TV viewers will continue unaffected by the laugh track era are deceiving themselves. The truth is, for anyone who has ever watched comic gems like “I Love Lucy”, “Cheers” or any one of a large collection of shows still broadcast with the infamous laugh track, in the back of our minds, we will never completely trust ourselves to laugh without risking non-public embarrassment. Alas, the laugh track era will live on and on, hand in hand with the scars it caused, until the last of us who sat alone but laughed in spurious community, finally die out.

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This is Column # NS26. Request permission to publish here.