Film review

The infamous ‘aristocrats’ joke, said to be the dirtiest joke imaginable, has become a rite of passage in the stand-up comedy world—a secret password that is only revealed to members inside the circle. For the film The Aristocrats, Paul Provenza took a home-video camera and delved into comedy’s favorite backstage routine, tracking down the biggest names in the biz (from George Carlin to Robin Williams to Lewis Black) to describe the history behind the joke and offer their own renditions. With that premise, you’d expect to be leaving the floor a little stickier than when you arrived, but alas, no change of underwear necessary. The joke gets re-told dozens of times and the shock-value wears off a little too quickly. Variations rapidly become bland and routine, despite each comic’s enthusiasm for the most disgusting acts he or she can dredge up. Provenza seems to think that his little doc on raunch is brilliant commentary on the nature of taboo, but the comics themselves don’t make the effort to look much beyond the spewing of obscenities. There is this uncomfortable pressure on you as an audience member to laugh harder than you want to because you’re inundated with humor experts and jokesmiths wetting themselves. When the punchline comes, you start to think (but only to yourself) “Ha ha… uh… I don’t get it.” What’s really funny is that there is nothing to get. Maybe that’s not the point. There is something interesting about watching comedians perform jazz-like improvisations, each attempting to one up the other. Amid the tightly-coiled piles of filth, there are particularly fascinating moments, like Bob Saget’s (yes, the Bob Saget) rendition of the gag. I don’t think Danny will be welcome in the Tanner household with a pottymouth like that. How rude.