With all due respect to Scott Baio, there’s little doubt about which 2016 convention will end up as the more entertaining. Over the first two nights in Philadelphia, we’ve seen performances from celebrity guests like Paul Simon, Demi Lovato and Alicia Keys. We’ve seen appearances from stars like Elizabeth Banks and Meryl Streep.
On Monday, we also saw some good old-fashioned spectacle. Who needs “Veep” when you’ve got a delegate in a homemade Robin Hood cap, booing the candidate he ostensibly showed up to support?
Of course, multiplatinum artists and costumed activists are a feature of any Democratic Party gathering. It’s a big tent. What’s different about this year, however, is the way comedy is playing a role. Back in 2008, Sen. Al Franken all but ignored his status as one of the founding fathers of “Saturday Night Live.” On Monday night, he dusted off his comedy chops for a long riff on his degree in “megalomania studies” as he dressed down Donald Trump.
A few minutes later, he was joined by Sarah Silverman; she’s no stranger to Democratic causes, but this was her first time on the convention stage. The convention also commissioned Funny or Die DC to create a series of short videos starring professional comedians “decoding” Donald Trump. The first, featuring comedian Ken Jeong and economist Austan Goolsbee, debuted on Monday night.
I don’t want to get carried away. “Funny for a convention” is only a few steps above “funny for a funeral.” But there’s a reason Democrats are leaning more heavily on humor. As a speechwriter at the White House, and on the 2012 campaign, I learned exactly where voters stand on the issue of political boilerplate. They hate it.
The American people are better than ever at spotting clichés, and suspicious of politicians who spout them.
As the President and first lady have demonstrated, there’s still nothing in American life quite like a great political speech. But those without the rhetorical gifts of an Obama need to find some other way to show an audience something new. That’s where being funny comes in. When Franken says Trump U is ranked “right behind Bernie Madoff University” in terms of ripping people off, he’s injecting a familiar argument with the element of surprise.
Even more importantly, humor helps reach once-captive audiences that are now irreversibly on the loose and makes them pay attention.
Convention speakers in prime time are still guaranteed a fair amount of attention, but for anyone speaking before 9 p.m., the competition is fierce. Those people are squaring off against a bajillion cable channels. Of course, that’s assuming voters have turned on their TV at all.
For more and more of them, the “second screen” of a laptop or a phone isn’t a second screen at all. So speakers are competing with the entire universe of content online. And that’s where conventions have an infinite number of audiences: the person obsessively refreshing Twitter, the person procrastinating on Facebook, the person who doesn’t follow politics but has an encyclopedic knowledge of memes.
So if you’re addressing the Wells Fargo Arena at 8:30, you don’t just have to persuade people to vote for Hillary Clinton. You have to persuade people to turn away from the baby otter videos and look at their TV. It helps if you make them laugh.
But comedy is risky. There’s nothing quite as groan-inducing as a public figure telling a joke that falls completely flat. More than ever, though, it’s a risk that’s worth taking: In 2016, comedy is one of the most consistent ways to break through.
When America Ferrara jokes that, “According to Donald Trump, I’m probably a rapist,” it makes headlines. When Sarah Silverman deploys her heckler-handling skills to tell the Bernie or Bust crowd, “You’re being ridiculous,” Twitter blows up. When Ken Jeong cries “Holy Melania!” after learning Donald Trump’s products are outsourced, it gives online audiences a reason to like — and share — what he has to say.
As Funny or Die has seen, not just at this convention, but with videos like Between Two Ferns, jokes can help a serious message go viral in a way earnestness often cannot.
Conventions aren’t just about big ideas. They’re also about the best way to get those ideas across. Humor isn’t the star of Philadelphia, it’s more like the sarcastic best friend. But this year, to an unprecedented degree, comedy is in the arena. That’s something worth taking note of: not just for Democrats, not just for politicians, but for anyone looking to make a point.