Small-Town Lives, Big-Town Liars
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Author: Amy Sedaris
Title: Wigfield Genre: humor Write about the things you know: it’s a cardinal rule for authors. Somebody neglected to tell Russell Hokes that rule before cutting him loose to write about America’s dying small towns. Perhaps he knew a bit about small towns from his most recent job (painting the centerline on highways), but it sure wasn’t much. It’s certain that even that little bit was more than he knew about writing – what Russell knew best was wine, women, and song; though in truth he wasn’t all that clear on the song part of the equation. Thus, when Russell wandered into the little town of Wigfield, he found himself in his element. Ahhh, good ol’ Wigfield. It would just be a wide spot in the road if it were on a road; merely a dot on the map if it had ever appeared on a map. Whatever the case, there was plenty going on in the busy burg, even though the superfund sites had closed and the hazardous waste dumps had gone out of business. Their departures left the locals dependent upon the remaining local industries to make a living: selling used auto parts, fleecing truckers in the “gentlemen’s clubs,” and the morgues. That’s right, a population of less than fifty supported (and staffed) half a dozen tittie bars and a similar number of auto junkyards and cold storage emporia for the dear departed. Contractually obliged to produce fifty thousand words on the demise of small towns, Russell chose Wigfield as his topic and the voices of its wily denizens as his words. His in-depth study (mostly studied in the depths of whiskey glasses and grimy g-strings) reveals much of the pathos and bathos of the small town. This particular town’s especially pathetic, lacking both articles of incorporation and any semblance of services while boasting not one but three mayors, each with his own chief of police. As seen through the eyes of its citizens, Wigfield proves to have all of the venality, corruption, murder, and malice of its much larger brethren; while having none of the charms of a Birmingham or a Scranton. Oh, yes – and the dam just above the town is scheduled to be breached by the government. On Humor Authors Amy Sedaris,* Paul Dinello, and Stephen Colbert are best known for their series work with Comedy Central, where they developed two different series. The three met at Second City and have since honed their skills working as playwrights and screenwriters. The problem is, they’re not consistently funny. Oh, sure, Wigfield has its moments. It comprises a series of running jokes: the vast number of strippers in town, the twisted poetry of a love struck teenaged girl, the three mayors, the homicidal maniac and the pyromaniac loose in town, Russell’s word-count fetish… Each joke is funny in its own right, but each joke is beaten mercilessly into the ground, and then beaten again, as one might smack around a dead horse in hopes of engendering a gallop. These jokes cease to be funny the same way a six-year-old’s knock-knock-joke becomes grating after the ‘leventy-‘leventh repetition. As evidenced by Bill Murray’s apparent compulsion to shout hoarse, off-key torch song lyrics every last time he appears on camera (you saw “Lost in Translation,” right?), humor somehow went wonky at the fin de siècle. Beginning some time in the early 1980s, comedy writers got lazy – personally, I blame it on Al Franken. They’d conceive a single joke - a bit, tag line, sight gag - and then repeat it ad infinitum.** That doesn’t mean that no one can produce comedy any more; listen to “The Santaland Diaries” as performed by Amy’s brother David Sedaris some time. Now that’s funny. This pattern of endless repetition of a sorry series of jokes spoils Wigfield. Much as narrator Russell Hokes depends on newspaper articles and court transcripts to pad his manuscript in hopes of reaching 50,000 words more quickly, Sedaris et al. pad their own manuscript by repeating themselves like a toddler asking for candy. That’s a shame, because if they’d concentrated on producing new funny bits instead of retreads, then they’d have had one heck of a funny book on their hands. Parting Shots Remember that rule? “Write about the things you know”? It’s a sure bet that none of these three has ever lived in a small town. Their characters are lifted straight out of sixties sitcoms and then dressed up with a little Tim Burton. Me, I’ve lived in small towns – and I know the truth (but I’m not telling). * yes, she’s David’s sister ** From early 1980s SNL: “We are wild and crazy guys” or “What the hell is that” from 2003, “I’m Brian Fellows.” ‘Nuff said? |