This Is Spinal Tap: Anatomy of a Bad Joke
It is always dangerous to analyze comedy. The only rule is this: Funny is funny, except when it’s not. But there are times when sheer hype can take something that is unfunny and make it seem funny to unwitting audiences (no pun intended). Case in point is the “Set to 11” scene in “This Is Spinal Tap.”
Anyone who has watched the movie knows to what I’m referring, but just in case you don’t, here it is: Rob Reiner, playing the mockumentary director Marty DiBergi (and I wonder what director’s name is being spoofed there?), is talking to band member Nigel Tufnel, played by Christopher Guest. With a flourish Tufnel reveals the “secret” to the band’s “big sound.” Whereas most bands’ amplifiers are just set to 10, theirs is set to 11, “for that extra burst of sound, ya’ know?” DiBergi replies, “Why not just make 10 louder?” Tufnel stares at him in befuddlement and then mumbles “Well…it’s 11.”
That scene is now considered a classic, and in fact “set to 11” has become a cultural touchstone, popping up in mock reference to everything from over-loud comedians to over-heated political rhetoric. But there’s a little problem. That scene isn’t funny; in fact, it’s the opposite of funny because what it’s parodying is actually logical.
Amplifiers do in fact have volume controls with numeric ratings just like any other sound-producing devices, and their highest setting is usually 10. So if Spinal Tap did in fact want to best other bands by becoming louder, the logical thing to do would be to add a higher setting to their amps. The joke would have only worked if Spinal Tap’s amps went up to 10, with Tufnel erroneously explaining that most bands’ amps only went to 9, and DiBergi correcting him.
I saw Spinal Tap twice when it originally came out in 1984. Neither audience so much as tittered at this scene. I remember sitting there both times thinking, “Ok, I know what the joke is supposed to be, but it doesn’t make any sense.” And it doesn’t. So why is the scene considered a “classic”?
The answer is, I think, hype. Twenty-three years later “This Is Spinal Tap” is considered one of the greatest comedies ever filmed. But apparently in the minds of too many people a movie that is labeled a “classic” and one of the greatest comedies ever made must be frame-to-frame funny. And that’s just not true. To take an example from another genre, many cineastes believe (rightly, in my opinion) that “The Wild Bunch” is a masterpiece. But that doesn’t change the fact that it has quite a few flaws (like its dialogue, and some of its caricatures). Those flaws don’t detract from its greatness. After all, not every great film can be as flawless as “Citizen Kane”, “Lawrence of Arabia” or “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Successive audiences have been taught by the hype surrounding “This Is Spinal Tap” that every scene in it is hilarious, and that this particular scene is a classic. And so most people believe it. It is a self-perpetuating cultural delusion, and yet another illustration that while dying is easy, comedy is hard.
Except when it’s not.
Anyone who has watched the movie knows to what I’m referring, but just in case you don’t, here it is: Rob Reiner, playing the mockumentary director Marty DiBergi (and I wonder what director’s name is being spoofed there?), is talking to band member Nigel Tufnel, played by Christopher Guest. With a flourish Tufnel reveals the “secret” to the band’s “big sound.” Whereas most bands’ amplifiers are just set to 10, theirs is set to 11, “for that extra burst of sound, ya’ know?” DiBergi replies, “Why not just make 10 louder?” Tufnel stares at him in befuddlement and then mumbles “Well…it’s 11.”
That scene is now considered a classic, and in fact “set to 11” has become a cultural touchstone, popping up in mock reference to everything from over-loud comedians to over-heated political rhetoric. But there’s a little problem. That scene isn’t funny; in fact, it’s the opposite of funny because what it’s parodying is actually logical.
Amplifiers do in fact have volume controls with numeric ratings just like any other sound-producing devices, and their highest setting is usually 10. So if Spinal Tap did in fact want to best other bands by becoming louder, the logical thing to do would be to add a higher setting to their amps. The joke would have only worked if Spinal Tap’s amps went up to 10, with Tufnel erroneously explaining that most bands’ amps only went to 9, and DiBergi correcting him.
I saw Spinal Tap twice when it originally came out in 1984. Neither audience so much as tittered at this scene. I remember sitting there both times thinking, “Ok, I know what the joke is supposed to be, but it doesn’t make any sense.” And it doesn’t. So why is the scene considered a “classic”?
The answer is, I think, hype. Twenty-three years later “This Is Spinal Tap” is considered one of the greatest comedies ever filmed. But apparently in the minds of too many people a movie that is labeled a “classic” and one of the greatest comedies ever made must be frame-to-frame funny. And that’s just not true. To take an example from another genre, many cineastes believe (rightly, in my opinion) that “The Wild Bunch” is a masterpiece. But that doesn’t change the fact that it has quite a few flaws (like its dialogue, and some of its caricatures). Those flaws don’t detract from its greatness. After all, not every great film can be as flawless as “Citizen Kane”, “Lawrence of Arabia” or “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Successive audiences have been taught by the hype surrounding “This Is Spinal Tap” that every scene in it is hilarious, and that this particular scene is a classic. And so most people believe it. It is a self-perpetuating cultural delusion, and yet another illustration that while dying is easy, comedy is hard.
Except when it’s not.
Labels: marty dibergi, nigel tufnel, this is spinal tap
posted by Unknown | 4:48 PM
3 Comments:
You're leaving out the crucial info that makes it funny. It's not a louder amp. It's a NORMAL amp that simply has "11" labeled the highest instead of the usual "10." So Nigel thinks its louder, but it's not. We laugh because he's dumb.
When Marty points out that Nigel could just repaint the numbers so the loudest is "10 ". Nigel's reply is funny because he not only misses Marty's point, he kind of thinks Marty's dumb for not getting his.
That's why simply repeating "These go to 11" is hilarious. It's the dumb guy acting like the smart guy is dumb.
This is a tried and true comedy staple. In this case it was well-played with excellent timing, and inside of what in 1984 was a totally fresh format, the mockumentary.
Finally, no one joke can survive the hype of "this is the funniest thing ever." But in this case, so many people have found it funny that the expression has found its way into the vernacular.
I always thought it was funny because he's talking rubbish, but in a completely confident way. Nigel Tufnel was expressing his belief that one can judge the quality of a piece of equipment by its external markings. If he'd known what he was talking about he would never mention the dials (whether they go to ten, eleven, or a hundred) and instead would have talked about the amplifier's internal workings and relative decibel output. But he clearly doesn't know thing one about the tools of his own trade.
Eh. It's still funny to me. Eleven. =)
I finally saw Spinal Tap a few years ago and was fully prepared to fall off the couch laughing. Except I didn't. There were minor giggles here and there, and that was about it. I think there's a big "you had to be there" factor with a lot of older comedies. Animal House? Didn't laugh once. Ditto The Producers, and I even saw that on the big screen.
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