Last year witnessed the rise and rise of cross-gender comedy Mrs Brown’s Boys, which smashed through the BBC ratings with all the subtlety of a juggernaut in a dress, significantly outperforming primetime flagships, such as Dr Who and Miranda. The 2012 Christmas Special alone attracted an audience of nearly 12 million; and with a fourth series on the way, an ongoing UK tour and a film already commissioned, the show’s writer and star Brendan O’Carroll is unlikely to be putting his trousers back on any time soon.
Whilst this may be good news for the show’s delighted fans, it is likely to cause a collective groan from the show’s critics, who have declared the multi award-winning sitcom “the worst comedy ever made” and accusing it of building its comedy on a foundation of lazy sexism. Whether this is true or not, the show’s success is certainly proof enough that men dressing as women is still a popular comedy staple, but is this a tradition that gets its laughs ultimately by mocking women?
Cross-dressing for comic effect is nothing new. The presence of the gender-bending pantomime dame has become a staple comedy feature of this long standing tradition, as common and essential as the audience’s holler of ‘It’s Behind You!’ Most notably, Aladdin’s Widow Twankey and Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters derive humour from their exaggerated physical embodiment of the female body by the masculine presence personifying the character. This outward visual gag seemingly satirizes ‘stereotypical’ characteristics cruelly associated with femininity such as vanity and jealousy, whilst simultaneously mocking imperfections of the female body.
In the case of Cinderella, herself a youthful juxtaposition of beauty against the beastly Ugly Sisters, we might ask why women are never allocated this ‘ugly’ role? Is it that a supposed ‘ugly’ woman is so difficult to comprehend that a man dressed in woman’s clothes appears less offensive? Given the lack of roles assigned to women who dare not to conform to ideals of female beauty, we might be forgiven for thinking so. Or is it presumed that the comedic role of the sisters is funnier when the witty one-liners are delivered by a man? Perhaps the fact that it is a man speaking transgressive words amplifies the humour by pointing out women’s inability to express them. It’s not as if Cinders has many side-splitting wisecracks in her repertoire.
Hollywood heavyweights have been trying their hand at sexual farce comedy for decades, with varying degrees of success, from Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in the comedy classic Some Like it Hot (1959) to Adam Sandler’s recent super-flop and Razzie record breaker Jack & Jill (2012). Jack & Jill sports the tagline ‘His sister is coming for a visit… …and it ain't pretty’ – the ‘it’ in question being the domineering and repulsive diva ‘Jill’ or Adam Sandler in drag.
This is the most recent in the Hollywood trend which sees male US comedians engage in an offensive presentation of overpowering, sexually aggressive, ugly and intimidating women; frequently criticised, not only for their defamation of women, but also the emasculation of the male performers supposedly ‘in on the act’. Both Eddie Murphy’s Norbit and Martin Lawrence’s Big Momma franchise exemplify a reliance on the mockery of the imagined grotesqueness of the imperfect female form as the foundation on which to build a series of degrading jokes solely at the expense of female obesity.
It seems that two key questions exist at the heart of this debate. The first concerns the generation of humour within male produced representations of femininity. Often presenting themselves as parodies of female sexuality, it is necessary to identify and understand the focus of their satirical target. The answer is often not always as straightforward as ‘women’.
So, what are we laughing AT? If the intention is to satirize the social positioning of women or engage in wider debates about identity, sexuality and gender, then the response becomes more complex. Matt Lucas’ Vicky Pollard impersonation may well be viewed as a wider comment on social disorder or the media’s distorted representations and vilification of the perceived social ‘underclass’ rather than solely a gendered comedic insult. Pemberton, Gatiss and Shearsmith’s League of Gentlemen portray both genders as monsters, freaks and fetishists. Their depiction of macabre female figures frames the programme as a post-modern horror above anything else.
Secondly, this influx of male fronted female impersonation comedy, be it Mrs Brown’s Boys or cinematic hits including Hairspray, in which John Travolta plays the leading lady, ultimately raises the question of whether or not female performers are being side-lined in favour of male female impersonators. Nine times Oscar nominated favourite Tootsie (1982) saw a frustrated Michael Dorsey, played by Dustin Hoffman, transform into Dorothy Michaels.
The film's somewhat unconvincing narrative sees men marginalised within the film industry, having to use a homely female identity in order to succeed in the world of acting. Ultimately though, Dorsey’s disguise as a woman is what makes him a better man by the film’s end. What is essentially a Dustin Hoffman star vehicle, Tootsie is widely regarded as an empathetic exploration of the sexism endured by women. But by casting a man in the lead role of such a thematic dispute, then placing him in drag, the film’s stance on the seriousness of sexism is thrown into question.
In a culture where the under representation of women in all aspects of comedy and beyond is still a widespread issue, women continue their uphill struggle for recognition and opportunity in the face of much adversity. A recent poll charting the 100 Greatest Comedians of all time selects 94 men and only 6 women (Channel 4, 2010), adding to the wider intrinsic and highly sexist debate that woman aren’t as funny as their male counterparts, famously fuelled by Christopher Hitchens’ controversial and deliberately provocative Vanity Fair article ‘Why Women Aren’t Funny’ (2007), repeated again in his lazily titled follow up ‘Why Women Still Aren’t Funny’ (2008).
Older women complain – and with good reason – that they are massively under-represented on TV, a trend which extends beyond the comedy genre. Aside from rare examples of unruly womanhood displayed recently by the huge, but exceptional success of Miranda, an older or elderly woman fronting her own TV sitcom is the televisual equivalent of a dodo. It seems depressingly inevitable then, that prime-time phenomenon Mrs. Brown’s Boys has feisty old matriarch Agnes Brown at its helm with a man in the starring role.
Marketed as ‘the domineering but loveable mother hen that you wouldn’t mess with,’ Brendan O’Carroll’s creation displays a caricature of the hallmarks of older femininity quickly disapearing from our screens when in female form. Mrs Brown’s Boys shows us that it is possible for an elderly woman to thrive on prime time TV, but only if it’s when the audience is in on the fact that she’s actually a man.
Interestingly, Agnes Brown is not a particularly negative female representation with comedy created in her defiance of the expectations of proper female conduct. O’Carroll’s appearance acts as a notable visual gag for its unconvincing nature; his disguise barely masks his clearly evident masculine exterior. The show’s tagline warns us to ‘prepare for a riot of bad behaviour’, with the character acting as a parody of femininity, mocking idealised female sexuality as Mrs Brown constantly strays from what is widely acknowledged as acceptable female decorum. Her frequent use of lewd, obscene language and aggressive sexual innuendoes questions social ideas of female delicacy, passivity & restraint in a rejection of seemly, delicate womanhood. Whilst refreshing in theory, one could argue that female comedians themselves are in a better position to address such issues given their relevance within the patriarchal landscape of comedy.
Rebecca Ellis is Film Studies Lecture, Workshop Facilitator, Film Reviewer at Little White Lies Magazine and Educational Resource Writer for Curriculum Press & Media Magazine.
Pictured: Brendan O'Carroll as Mrs. Brown, Rebecca Ellis
