Text by Alex Dieker
Image by Sadu Saks
“Blowing away a fleeing suspect with my .44 Magnum used to be everything to me. I enjoyed it, well, who wouldn’t?” Police squad captain Frank Drebin’s serious delivery of these bone-dry jokes is a hallmark of the Naked Gun comedy series produced in the 1980s and 90s. The first film’s knack for dumb gags is coupled with a fearsome threat by an evildoer: a technological weapon that can activate any unsuspecting person into a highly-trained assassin. Drebin’s task is to protect the British Queen as she visits Los Angeles, a very serious responsibility indeed. At at a press conference, he assures the city that his team will perform their duties to their utmost ability:
Protecting the Queen's safety is a task that is gladly accepted by Police Squad. No matter how silly the idea of having a queen might be to us, as Americans we must be gracious and considerate hosts. [applause]
Naked Gun at face value is a comedy which takes police work as its basis but drives the story in an absurdly comedic direction. Yet by taking up the subject of policing to begin with, the actors and writers are able to play in a liminal space between good and evil, violence and peace. Leslie Nielsen, who plays Drebin, was a classically trained dramatic actor; when he made the switch to comedies, he found it was funniest to keep up his straight persona and act as though he was still in a drama. It’s this seriousness which gave life to his character Dr. Rumack in Airplane!, who is trying to save everyone’s life yet can’t seem to shake these silly over-the-top misunderstandings. When Rumack asks Captain Oveur (whose name cedes space for oodles of ‘over-and-out’ puns) when an emergency landing could happen, since everyone on board has fallen ill. Oveur says he can’t tell when they’ll be able to land. “You can tell me, I’m a doctor.” Nielsen acts these scenes all too seriously, but if he didn’t, the comedy…wouldn’t land very well.
I think the seriousness of the characters Frank Drebin and Dr. Rumack gets at something important within the human psyche: we are all about extremes, and often the most gruesome or terrifying moments contain an element of comedy and sarcasm. This is driven home by the fact that Naked Gun is nominally about a police force’s attempt to ‘protect and serve’ the American people, yet in doing so commits various heinous acts such as opening fire into a crowded parking lot to stop a driverless car on the run. Anyway, it was Lieutenant Drebin’s car which he drove into a pole, activating the airbags which put the car into neutral. “Did anyone see the driver? Anyone get a license plate?”
I needn’t review why real-life police work is riddled with controversy — simply peruse the first few chapters of Philippe Bourgois' Spanish Harlem ethnography In Search of Respect if you’re unfamiliar with America’s racist, brutal police regime. But these sinister aspects of policing don’t really feature in these kinds of comedies; it simply provides the assumed backdrop for the audience. Since we as viewers know the plot centres around a police force, the lack of seriousness in the storyline makes the film all the more funny. Nielsen’s serious delivery of an absurd dialogue is just the cherry on top.
With the more contemporary Brooklyn 99, we see another example of a comedy centred around policing in one of the U.S.’ largest cities. While ‘99’ does make nominal attempts to portray the brutality of police work, the show generally aims to extend plot points through its Office-like workplace sit-com style. Captain Holt takes opportunities to deride the NYPD’s racist and homophobic policies, but his unbelievably dry, intelligent deliveries coupled with his obtuse understanding of basic concepts makes us question how effective his all-too-important critiques truly are. At a certain point, when the show creators make the decision to go light-hearted, sanitising the impact of a New York police force, the social critiques levied by even the funniest of characters fall flat. We watched 99 to hear Holt wax lyrical about how Mahler was the music scene’s “in-your-face bad boy,” not for any hypocritical critique of policing. You’re making a police comedy, damn it! You have to jump into the absurdity of it without hesitation.
But the point stands that placing a comedy within the context of a police squad has a double impact that adds comedic value. Mary Douglas described dirt as “matter out of place” – not a germ-infested entity but a polluting element only within a cultural context. Jokes are perhaps the most poignant example of what I see as “speech out of place”: the whole point of a joke is that it breaks up the normal rhythm of speech, catches us off guard, and makes us rethink. In this way, comedy could be considered a pollutant. And if violence is the ultimate pollutant, I needn’t expand much further on why combining the two themes has such strong staying power in film and television. Before one single joke is made in Brooklyn 99, the joke has already been made. We’re watching a comedy about the most notorious, state-funded gang of thugs in the city, and they’re always acting dumb to boot.
What Andy Samberg has to offer as Jake Peralta in 99 is a poignant contradiction to the Drebin character portrayed by Nielsen four decades ago. Peralta is a brilliant detective who makes horrifically stupid statements and decisions, all the while wearing a smirk reminiscent of a mischievous child. We know who he is. With Drebin, we aren’t force-fed a mouthful of idiocy. He is confused, but always on the right path, always playing the straight man (in both senses). While Peralta is astonished at the world, the world of Naked Gun is Drebin’s realm. We are all in on the gag, no matter how stupid it might be, and I find that’s why I appreciate his character so much more.
When Peralta smashes through a window to arrest a ‘perp’ his mojo is trashed when Boyle points out the chocolate stain on his mouth. It’s too obvious.
When a dockworker is giving Drebin a hard time, the captain offers him a $20 bill to ‘refresh’ his memory about his cop buddy who was recently shot, ironically played by O.J. Simpson.
“I don’t know, my memory’s still kinda hazy.”
“How about this?” Drebin hands him another 20.
“Yeah I remember him,” the worker says, sassily. “Why do you wanna know?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Yeah, well maybe this will help.” The worker hands Drebin back a 20. The captain examines the bill: “I really don’t think I should…”
By the end of the exchange, the scumbag worker has given Drebin all of his $40 back, plus another $20. Drebin keeps holding out, the worker asks him if he can spot him a 20, and they quickly exchange the same 20 that was just used to bribe the cop.
It’s all so ridiculous that you can’t help but feel as though you’ve lost 20 yourself after the scene, not in dollars but in brain cells. Dumber, yet somehow completely satisfied with the hilarious absurdity of it all. It’s a police interview gone sour, then gone right again, in the form of a bribery, and then gone completely off the walls. We know exactly what’s happening, yet nothing at all.
My brain is mush. All I know is I’m laughing.
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