Character humor is just one vein of many that are part of the most classic, timeless, beloved comedies that we remember. Whether combined with satire, farce, or a hefty dose of irony, it never hurts to at least try and dabble in character humor, in hopes of, among other things, deepening your characters and their three-dimensionality beyond the archetypes they initially represented.
Here are some important upsides to this underrated element.
IT BUILDS CHARACTER (AND CAN SAVE TIME)
That's an obvious one, right? But the medium of film allows you far less time to establish your characters than a book (or even a play). Comedy springs from your characters' misery, misfortune, inconvenience, imperfections, etc., with humor being so dependent on context.
Or in this man's case, sheer incompetency.
You can still build your characters and their dynamics like in other genres, and find humor in their roles as foils, opposites, etc. after you've done so. Also, since comedy relies so much on timing, long-winded explanations are often a humor killer, so time-saving is essential in maintaining your work's natural rhythm.
IT CAN AVOID BEING DATED
"Mamma mia!"
Above: not an example.
As I said in my "How to be Timeless" post, this avenue isn't completely foolproof, especially since the framing of a character's attitude, for example, can date surprisingly quickly, but sticking closer to a trait or source of irritation of theirs that is more universal than "up to the minute" will avoid some of the fallout from the passage of time.
For example, ever notice how some newer comedies rely on topical humor, even if it's framed as the ramblings of a character we're supposed to hate? Imagine watching that in an era where the topic at hand is "beaten into the ground", and the viewer may not even care to see what said ramblings say about that character.
Presumably.
IT CAN COMPEL YOUR CHARACTERS TO DRIVE THE PLOT Goldfinger is a fine movie, but a common (and not unfounded) criticism of its third act is how James Bond does little to drive the plot. Rather, it's the actions of Pussy Galore and Felix Leiter (and their respective personnel) who help foil the bulk of Goldfinger's plan.
It really is absurd how Bond is not part of this large-scale battle sequence.
In comedy, humor can arise from external factors (bad luck, bad weather, absurd crimes committed by others) and internal (pride, jealousy, lust, protectiveness), but you might get too swept up in the former category and just be thinking up as many absurd scenarios as possible. The downside is that your characters may fall by the wayside in audience attention, and bring the plot itself to a halt.
Character humor is one of the many "cheats" to bring your attention to the emotional side of your story. What do they feel about one of those absurd situations, for example? Are they terrified? In denial? So hopped up on a vice that they've tuned out entirely?
For example.
Similar to Rule #13 of Pixar's "22 Rules of Storytelling" ("Give your characters opinions."), passive characters who "just have stuff happen to them" can really fall into a "boring" trap without careful consideration to emotion, effort, and motivation. James Bond in Goldfinger does escape his cell, escape Oddjob and Fort Knox, and dispose of the title villain through his own wits and ingenuity, but Goldfinger's gassing plan is foiled due to sheer luck (from the perspective of Bond and the audience) and can rob the climax of one "payoff" for some viewers of this series. (On that, your mileage may vary.)
In short, "sticking to the emotional side" of your characters will tap into your natural drive to spring them into (usually-logical) action.
IT CONTRIBUTES TO THE CONSISTENCY
Consistent characters are a foundational hallmark to any great story, but are arguably even more important in comedy, so the audience will have an idea what the movie wants them to laugh at.
How familiar is a character's defining trait to other characters? Is it obvious despite the first character trying to hide it? Or do they succeed in hiding it, but still struggle with the ramifications?
Conversely, does a given character have a reputation around their town? If so, is it because they are accident-prone? Irresponsible? So infamous that they'll flat out be refused insurance coverage (even
where it's illegal for that to happen?). The more you think about what a character trait means throughout a story, setting, and dynamics, the more you can use for the character humor in your work.
Ambulance chaser "Whiplash Willie" Gingrich is so shifty, so cunning,
so infamous, that his mere presence (and what it means for those around him)
makes The Fortune Cookie that much more enjoyable.
I don't think I've ever come across a film that's been described by others as "doomed from the start" quite like The Fiendish Plot of Dr. Fu Manchu, the unfortunate swan song of the legendary Peter Sellers (who died just two weeks before the film's release).
Released during the "last gasp" of cinematic "Yellowface" in the early 1980s (see also: Peter Ustinov in Charlie Chan and the Curse of the Dragon Queen, Max Von Sydow in Flash Gordon), TFP's troubled production reeks of "perfect storm", but the film itself has been all but forgotten due to the later exercise in poor taste that was Trail of the Pink Panther (as in, Sellers' widow Lynne Frederick sued the producers of that film and won.).
Is TFP as haggard and lifeless as its reviews suggest? Is it a regressive take on "Yellow Peril" after Sellers lampshaded Charlie Chan in Murder by Death? Let's find out...
Peter Sellers as Dr. Fu Manchu
Peter Sellers as Sir Denis Nayland Smith
David Tomlinson (also in his last film role)
as Scotland Yard Commissioner Sir Roger Avery
Simon Williams (right) as Robert Townsend
Helen Mirren as Const. Alice Rage
Steve Franken and Sid Caesar
as FBI agents Pete Williams and Joe Capone
The creation of English author Sax Rohmer, Dr. Fu Manchu is a character that has endured through numerous novels and films since his inception in 1912, as well as faced complaints from both governments (from China being a wartime ally) and Asian-American rights groups as far back as the 1930s.
At least this Fu employs henchpeople of most races and both genders.
(Not to mention, he's allowed to play "Happy Birthday",
since Warner Bros. is distributing the film.)
Set "possibly around 1933" (how vaguely specific), 168-year old Fu Manchu (Sellers), having had his elixlir vitae accidentally destroyed by a minion, must steal two identical-looking diamonds from Washington D.C. and the Tower of London respectively, which prompts two FBI agents (Caesar and Franken) to seek out his arch-nemesis, retired Scotland Yard detective Sir Denis Nayland Smith (also Sellers).
Nayland Smith's setup of being emotionally "attached" to
his push mower sets us up for much of the film's "humor".
If I wanted to see a policeman comedically mow a lawn, I'd watch
Jack Palance in Cops and Robbersons, thank you very much.
Later on in the film, said push mower is stolen by Fu's men
and then returned, virtually without incident.
This is our running gag, folks.
After proving his dramatic chops to an audience accustomed to Inspector Clouseau in Being There (1979), Sellers likely thought that TFP wouldn't be much of a stretch for his abilities. Unfortunately, his erratic behavior, poor health, and the script's constant rewrites would manifest within the film's "patchwork" nature.
Fu's expression here could be a review of this film in and of itself.
Having fired both Richard Quine (Columbo: Requiem for a Falling Star) and John G. Avildsen (Rocky) before the original script's completion and the start of filming, Sellers then chose Piers Haggard (The Quatermass Conclusion), before Haggard too was eventually fired, with Sellers himself directing the last week of filming, all the while still crediting Haggard on the finished film. (Surely one would want to avoid the obvious jokes?)
Actually, this expression here could sum up Sellers' role in the production.
Add to this the fact that Sellers was advised not to even make TFPat all due to his weak heart (and later collapsing from a mild heart attack midway through shooting), and you have a recipe in moviemaking disaster that only films like Apocalypse Now and The Island of Dr. Moreau could dislodge from the troubled production consciousness. (Though Sellers' sudden death likely played a part in the public wanting to forget it entirely.)
Fu resorts to many means of electric shocks to prolong his fast-shortening life.
I'll allow you the requisite awkward pause.
Despite all of the above, however, I was surprised to find that by some miracle, TFP isn't the all-encompassing, total trainwreck its reviews make it out to be, at least not to a vast degree. The film hasn't been cut to ribbons, motivations aren't excised to the point of incomprehensibility, and the plot (no pun intended) hasn't gotten lost in the shuffle (if any). If anything, this is just the (albeit still morbidly-awkward) Sellers equivalent of A View to a Kill.
Complete with a villainous fake bug.
Adding to that point, TFP could also be easily divided into two somewhat-disparate halves: The longer, far more drawn-out first half, with nonsensical gags and a failure to cut between Nayland Smith's plot and Fu Manchu's, and the noticeably-better second half, with improved pacing, more Fu, and the presence of Helen Mirren.
I'll get to her later, folks. Trust me.
The unfortunate weak link in this film (other than the script) is Sellers himself. Going by Haggard's account of Sellers handling the reshoots himself, I'm inclined to believe it was the film's first scenes of Nayland Smith and Co. that were handled by him, given how its pacing and tone are not only at odds with Fu's scenes, but also how they match the dire lack of energy Sellers exhibits as Nayland Smith.
It's not that Sellers can't play the "straight man", but even those
who haven't seen his better work will notice a lack of verve in this film.
Adding to that aspect are the "gags" employed that hammer home the awkwardness, such as...
Robert, Sir Roger, and the FBI agents attempt to
cover themselves from Nayland Smith's sprinklers.
At no point does anyone think to even ask to turn said sprinklers off.
While racial progressiveness was likely not a priority for this film,
are we supposed to approve of, be shocked by, or laugh at
Capone freely calling the Chinese "ch*nks"?
I ask because the movie doesn't seem to know, either.
As a result, the film's first half almost feels like a T.V. movie, where things often "just happen" with little rhyme or reason.
Tomlinson is actually quite good as Sir Roger,
who shows a great level of energy and understandable
exasperation at his nephew Robert.
With little dialogue but a towering stature and big eyes,
Simon Williams does a lot with his high-strung role.
Capone and (the other) Williams serve little purpose to the plot
and could have been cut from the script entirely.
Things pick up, thankfully, when Mirren's Const. Rage enters the film. Bringing some sorely-needed spunk to the proceedings, she's a joy to watch, whether playfully singing songs like "On the Good Ship Lollipop" and "Daddy Wouldn't Buy Me a Bow Wow", or playing the part of the decoy Queen Mary in Nayland Smith's scheme to smoke out Fu.
An inspired touch in the film is when Const. Rage's devotion
to her role as Queen Mary starts to go to her head.
Const. Rage's drinking and conversation with Fu adds some real warmth
to the film, and Mirren and Sellers have a good time together onscreen.
And that's before I even get to Mirren's transformation once Rage joins Fu's side. Because as a result, Mirren pretty much walks away with the entire film.
Guys, I get it now. Good lord, do I get it now.
Of course, the film's second half being comparatively better still means Nayland Smith is a part of it, and said better aspects just emphasize him being "out of his element" in the same visibly-tired manner.
One of the few exceptions to this: Nayland Smith reveals to the audience
his having the real George V canary diamond.
And in some respects, it really is too bad, because as a whole, TFP is actually shot and staged quite nicely, thanks to Haggard and cinematographer Jean Tournier (Moonraker).
Yes, without pretense or foreshadowing, Nayland Smith's
cottage turns into a makeshift RE/MAX ad.
Nice to see Fu putting the Shangri-La exterior from Lost Horizon (1973) to good use!
Alas, even the second half of this film isn't worth writing home about, much as it does feel more like an actual movie. It's almost as if the entire film did indeed inherit the pallor that pushed for its coming into being. IS THERE ANYTHING (ELSE) DECENT IN IT? In addition to the parts above that I liked, there are a few things that are better or more clever than this movie probably deserves, such as...
The real martial arts in the opening credits, which would also explain
why John G. Avildsen was originally tapped to direct.
Nayland Smith's (successful) plan to flood the royals' theatre box
with lookalike decoys to confuse Fu's poison dart shooter.
Fu attempts to fine his men 1000 yen (I know...) each,
only to be told he doesn't even pay his men,
before deciding to pay them in order to fine them.
Fu's reaction when his men appear before him via jump cut:
"You can't fool me with a cheap, cinematic trick!"
OTHER OBSERVATIONS
Fu creepily watches Rage undress through a sheer curtain.
Even though she's fine with it, it doesn't really help for the viewer.
Given how good the "Zoptic" effects looked for Superman and Superman II,
I have to hope that these effects here are meant to be played for laughs.
This belongs in a Mel Brooks movie, full stop.
In an England-set plot involving the Tower of London, Fu's men wear
yellow suits, wear goggled face masks, and speak nothing but gibberish.
I think you know what I'm driving at.
Burt Kwouk (Cato in the Pink Panther series)
cameos as the ill-fated servant who wastes Fu's elixir vitae
and evokes Fu to comment that "[His] face is familiar.".
TIDBITS AND SUCH TFP's theatrical poster will raise more than a few eyebrows with its tagline:
First of all, not only did that obviously not happen, but to put it into words that actual Chinese restaurants would approve of, you'll only want it again in an hour if A) You didn't actually have any in the first place, or B) What you had was a pale imitation with little actual Chinese involvement. (And in all honesty, I doubt those Asian-American groups would say much different.)
An aspect of TFP that I really liked was the score by Marc Wilkinson (If..., Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead), mainly the disco-fied opening credits instrumental...
...and the anachronistic ending song "Rock a Fu", which Wilkinson wrote with director Haggard and producer Leland Nolan. It's Sino-riffic!
The Fiendish Plot of Dr. Fu Manchu is better than its reviews suggest, but only very slightly, and is a highly ill-fitting tribute to the cannot-be-overstated talent of Peter Sellers.
Of course, Fu's plan is actually quite dastardly when you realize
he plans to wipe out his enemies through cultural appropriation.
