As the politicians and the more diehard of the electorate await the results of the local council elections this morning, the rest of us are already dreading the aftermath of analysis and post-mortems that are bound to follow.
Hang on folks, it looks like we are in for a relentless summer of campaigning.
Oh goody, can’t wait.
Of course, there are those for whom politics is a matter of life or death; people who look up to politicians as if they were some kind of demigods. But others are, frankly, just fed up with the whole lot of them.
This seems to explain why more and more people are turning to comic entertainment to escape the constant onslaught of rhetoric, propaganda and general gobbledygook which tries to pass itself off as serious debate.
Take, for example, the success of Zoo.
The growing momentum of this comedy group’s popularity is the stuff out of which pop culture is made of.
Anyone who has ever been to one of their shows will have realised that, with each new performance, this is developing into something like a cult movement.
A typical ‘Zoo audience’ is distinctive in its demographics. It is made up mostly of young people in their 20s, the majority of whom (I would hazard to guess) have never stepped foot inside a theatre in their lives.
I would go further and say that (based purely on observation, or more precisely, eavesdropping) they tend to be Maltese-speaking youngsters who are drawn to the mix of satire and no-holds-barred colloquial humour that has made Zoo famous.
The comedy favoured by the Zoo team (Sander, Owen, Claire and Daniel) is the raunchy, earthy type. At times they even resort to toilet humour for laughs. They are at their best, however, when they use their wit to impersonate public figures and to poke fun at the often absurd situations, which crop up in this country. (I can’t wait for their spoof of Olivia’s new Vertigo video.)
They take snipes at Labour and Nationalist politicians alike and, judging from the reaction of the audience, no one seems to mind, which seems to indicate that the next generation is less entrenched in partisan politics than their parents.
It is clear that people are thirsty for an outlet to laugh and be entertained and Zoo is providing that outlet.
What Zoo are doing is not new, of course: social parody has been done before and continues to be used by other comedians. The difference is that Zoo are constantly coming up with new material and (now that their TV show has been cancelled) they are putting on more live shows, much to the delight of their loyal following.
What I find interesting is that in Malta, where the language one speaks is like a label on one’s forehead announcing one’s socio-economic status, different humorous shows cater for different crowds.
Take the much-awaited annual MADC Pantomime for instance. This show has managed to take the traditional, very British Panto and twist it into a uniquely Maltese creation, complete with Alan Montanaro playing a Dame who is the quintessential hamalla (a vulgar woman). His jokes are often based on the fact that his character is an easily recognisable stereotype who speaks in heavily accented English, and throws in Maltese phrases replete with double entendres. Apart from his brilliant sense of comic timing, Alan’s humour works so well because his target audience is the MADC audience, which tends to be English speaking. For them, a rather crude Maltese-speaking character within the context of other characters speaking pseudo British English, is very funny. (“Maa, how good he is, ay?” you can hear them twitter during the intermission).
Paradoxically, another of our talented comic actors, Hector Bruno, takes the elements of Panto, writes the script in Maltese and makes his characters throw in English phrases to spoof the stereotypical pepe types. The reason is obvious: his audience is that of the Catholic Institute, a Maltese-speaking audience who find wannabe British-Maltese to be indescribably hilarious.
In other sketches, when Hector plays the part of “the everyman” his comedy is tinged with a pathos that is endearing.
And how can we speak of comedy without mentioning the undeniably gifted Ray Calleja?
His talents lie in giving birth to wickedly accurate, three-dimensional “characters”. His Frankie Quattromani will undoubtedly go down in history as the most offensive yet loveable vulgar man that has ever lived. Much like the actors in Little Britain, Ray can switch between male and female roles with astonishing ease and is equally believable in both, managing to get mannerisms and the tone of voice just right. Like most comedians, he is a keen observer of human nature and has the ability to grasp the way people talk and act in mundane situations, channelling all these alter egos through his disguises.
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Thank God for our comedians who occasionally remind us that yes, we need to laugh much more: at ourselves, at public figures, and at politicians. Laughter is a release; it is a safety valve which allows you to let go even for just one evening and admit that this silly little country of ours does really take itself much too seriously for its own good.
(Plus laughing burns up calories, did you know that? Now that’s a good enough reason to have a sense of humour if I’ve ever heard one.)
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Oh God – is that the sound of a carcade I hear? Here we go it’s gonna’ be a long summer.