comedy—is the focus of her book All Joking Aside: American Humor and its Discontents, slated for September publication by Johns Hopkins University Press. It’s “an investigation of the history of the economy of charged humor,” she ex- plains, “by which I mean the production, exchange, and consumption of humor that speaks to remedying social in- justice and inequality using the stage as a platform for voic- ing discontent, particularly about the experience of second- class citizenship.” The book offers case studies, a compendium of comic
performers, and a look at how charged comedy has evolved in the US, working hand in hand with the various civil rights movements of the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s and then tak- ing a break in the 1980s when consumer tastes changed dramatically. Krefting says the 1980s “was a time of Reagan in the White House, a movement away from social politics, the rise of the yuppies and adulation of the dollar, and a prolif- eration of places and people doing comedy.” That era yielded a lot of bland humor without much edge. Not that there’s anything wrong
with that, she adds quickly. Producers offer—and consumers choose—the comedy that works for them. “We identify with comics who are speak- ing our language, who have similar experiences to ours,” and that tends to translate into similar economic status, race, and sexual identity. In fact, identity is a common
dynamic at play when you take that microphone,” Krefting says, because “you’re asking an audience to listen to you and asserting that you have something important to say.” When it works—when laughter signals a successful transac- tion—it’s liberating. Krefting enjoyed that liberating feedback at an early age,
breaking her own ground as a young female comedian. “My brothers and I would always fight, and I would disarm them with humor,” she says. Being funny also helped her make friends after the frequent moves of her military family. She started performing after college in Alabama, and began landing paid gigs in Nashville in 2001. “What a strange time to be telling jokes, when the nation was trying to re- cover after 9/11,” she recalls. “Comics were trotting out anti-Muslim and anti-Arab jokes that were an instantaneous hit with the audience—you could be forgiven for joking as long as you were joking about this ‘other’—and I found it dis- turbing.” She wanted to focus on fem- inist comedy, and she wanted her jokes to be meaningful, but she didn’t want to throw anyone under the bus, preferring to target institutions and worldviews rather than individuals. The busy professor doesn’t have
Class clowns?
thread running through all of Kreft- ing’s teaching and research. “Ameri- canists are interested in national identity, and then in individual pieces of identity,” she says. “So I’m interested in understanding who we are by studying what kinds of come- dy we’re consuming.” She says if you ask people which co- medians they like, their answers open little windows into who they are. In her classes, she notes, “when I ask who my students like, men will always name male comics, usually of the same race,” and women, she adds with a sigh, usually cite male comics first as well. She argues that it hasn’t been easy for women comics,
what with “a general public preconception that women are not funny, or not as funny as men.” Pioneers like Phyllis Diller and Joan Rivers resorted to self-deprecating humor, establishing connections with their audiences by making them feel better about themselves. Audience tastes have evolved, and few contemporary female comics resort to that. But whether they offer character comedy or shock, modern-day minstrelsy or political satire, “there’s a power
Which of your Skidmore professors was witty or wacky? Name your favorite funny faculty and share a story or description. The best entries (per the whim of Scope’s editors) will win Skidmore bling guaranteed to be funny, or at least fun. Write to Scope, Skidmore Col- lege, 815 North Broadway, Saratoga Springs, NY 12866; e-mail
srosenbe@skidmore.edu; or leave a message at 518-580-5747.
time for standup these days, though she’s called on to talk at a variety of campus events—most notably, last year’s Commencement. While Kreft- ing is an old pro at the microphone, she admits that her selection by the seniors as the faculty speaker at their graduation ceremony gave her a bit of stage fright. “It was the largest audi- ence I ever addressed,” she says, “and I was more nervous than at any other performance, because the stakes were higher.”
But, as they say in the comedy clubs, she killed. “It was
easy to relate to Beck,” says Olivia Nielsen ’13, who, as co- organizer of the 2013 ComFest, knows good comedy. “Her speech was free of clichés and condescension, handled with grace, sincerity, and wit,” and included a few “sobering points as well.” As for the conventional wisdom that no one remembers
graduation speakers, Skidomedy troupe member Jonny Duennebier ’13 counters: “I do remember how Beck was able to get at something within all of us through humor. She is one of those rare people who is able to mix a fierce energy and lightheartedness with a deeply rooted sense of purpose. It is that ability to mix humor and intelligence that will always stay with me.” What more could a teacher —or a serious comic—ask for?
SPRING 2014 SCOPE 19
GARY GOLD
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