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En La risa, Henri Bergson se pregunta sobre un objeto que, hasta el momento en que fue publicado el libro por primera vez, en 1899, estaba inexplorado. ¿Qué significa la risa? ¿Qué hay en el fondo de lo risible? ¿Qué puntos en común encontraríamos entre la mueca de un payaso, un juego de palabras, un enredo de vodevil, una escena de fina comedia? ¿Qué destilación nos dará la esencia, siempre la misma, a la que tantos y tan variados productos le deben su indiscreto olor o su delicado perfume? Nuestra excusa, al decidirnos a afrontar nosotros también dicho problema, es que no intentaremos encerrar la fantasía cómica en una definición. Vemos en ella, ante todo, algo vivo." Con el paso del tiempo, y después de numerosas ediciones, La risa se transformó en un libro de consulta permanente para teóricos y filósofos. El abordaje del humor y la risa como fenómenos sociales es lo que hace que La risa sea único y que siga siendo leído, aun con el paso de los años.
"Bergson, Premio Nobel de Literatura en 1927, se ocupa de examinar la naturaleza de la risa, su función social, el carácter eminentemente humano que la impulsa y el distanciamiento emocional que exige. Como él mismo escribe, ha buscado determinar en la farsa, la comedia y el circo (el payaso) los procedimientos de fabricación de la comicidad y comprender por qué ríe la sociedad. Es decir, la risa como misterio."
Víctor Hugo Ghitta — 25/06/2016 — LA NACION
"La afirmación aristotélica sigue estando hoy tan sin resolver como hace más de dos mil años: ¿Deberían o no legitimarse todas las formas de la risa? ¿Puede constituir la risa un insulto o una vejación? ¿Constituye la risa un poder? Y si es así: ¿Quién puede arrogarse la autoridad de administrarlo? Es decir: ¿Quién decide de qué y de qué no podemos reír?"
— 31/08/2012 — Revista Ñ — Clarín
Henri Bergson nació en París en 1859, hijo de un músico judío y de una mujer irlandesa. Se educó en el Liceo Condorcet y la École Normale Supérieure, donde estudió filosofía. Entre 1900 y 1921 fue titular de la cátedra de filosofía del Collège de France y en 1927 ganó el premio Nobel de Literatura. Influida por Spencer, Mill y el evolucionismo de Darwin, la filosofía de Henri Bergson puede leerse como una reacción contras esos sistemas racionalistas. La risa fue publicado por primera vez en 1899, y representa uno de los primeros desarrollos teóricos y científicos sobre el fenómeno de la risa, la ironía y el humor. En los últimos años de su vida se sintió cada vez más cerca del catolicismo, pero evitó la conversión oficial porque, como confesó en su testamento, temía apoyar con su prestigio el antisemitismo fomentado en Europa por el nazismo. Henri Bergson murió en París en 1941. Otros libros del autor son Materia y memoria; La energía espiritual y La evolución creadora.
340 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 1900
“You are only bound to treat people according to form,” says Dr. Diaforius in the Malade imaginaire. Again, says Dr. Bahis, in L’Amour medicine: “It is better to die through following the rules than to recover through violating them.”Bergson’s humor seems to consist of a chuckle or a wry smile. I wonder if he ever experienced a gasping-for-air, snot-bubble-producing, tear-inducing kind of laugh. What would he have thought about a classic Marx Brothers scene or Groucho's quick quips? Or a classic Bugs Bunny cartoon? Would he have reveled in a classic routine by Bob and Ray? Would he have have been offended by the stereotyped Inspector Clouseau? I’m guessing he might have had some difficulties with Mel Brooks movies, but he might have loved some scenes from The History of the World, Part One.
Humor arises from the incongruity between our notions of ourselves as humans, and the subversion of that notion by the mechanical nature of our lives.
Now step aside, look upon life as a disinterested spectator: many a drama will turn into a comedy. It is enough for us to stop our ears to the sound of music, in a room where dancing is going on, for the dancers at once to appear ridiculous. … To produce the whole of its effect, then, the comic demands something like a momentary anesthesia of the heart. Its appeal is to intelligence, pure and simple.
Poetic imagination is but a fuller view of reality. If the characters created by a poet give us the impression of life, it is only because they are the poet himself,—multiplication or division of the poet,—the poet plumbing the depths of his own nature in so powerful an effort of inner observation that he lays hold of the potential in the real, and takes up what nature has left as a mere outline or sketch in his soul in order to make of it a finished work of art.
Altogether different is the kind of observation from which comedy springs. It is directed outwards. … Settling on the surface, it will not be more than skin-deep, dealing with persons at the point at which they come into contact and become capable of resembling one another.
Laughter, as we have seen, is incompatible with emotion. If there exists a madness that is laughable, it can only be one compatible with the general health of the mind,—a sane type of madness, one might say. Now, there is a sane state of the mind that resembles madness in every respect, in which we find the same associations of ideas as we do in lunacy, the same peculiar logic as in a fixed idea. This state is that of dreams. So either our analysis is incorrect, or it must be capable of being stated in the following theorem: Comic absurdity is of the same nature as that of dreams.
Laughter is, above all, a corrective. Being intended to humiliate, it must make a painful impression on the person against whom it is directed. By laughter, society avenges itself for the liberties taken with it. It would fail in its object if it bore the stamp of sympathy or kindness. ...
Laughter punishes certain failing's somewhat as disease punishes certain forms of excess, striking down some who are innocent and sparing some who are guilty, aiming at a general result and incapable of dealing separately with each individual case. ...
In this sense, laughter cannot be absolutely just. Nor should it be kind-hearted either. Its function is to intimidate by humiliating.
Here, as elsewhere, nature has utilised evil with a view to good. It is more especially the good that has engaged our attention throughout this work. We have seen that the more society improves, the more plastic is the adaptability it obtains from its members; while the greater the tendency towards increasing stability below, the more does it force to the surface the disturbing elements inseparable from so vast a bulk; and thus laughter performs a useful function by emphasising the form of these significant undulations. Such is also the truceless warfare of the waves on the surface of the sea, whilst profound peace reigns in the depths below. The billows clash and collide with each other, as they strive to find their level. A fringe of snow-white foam, feathery and frolicsome, follows their changing outlines. From time to time, the receding wave leaves behind a remnant of foam on the sandy beach. The child, who plays hard by, picks up a handful, and, the next moment, is astonished to find that nothing remains in his grasp but a few drops of water, water that is far more brackish, far more bitter than that of the wave which brought it. Laughter comes into being in the self-same fashion. It indicates a slight revolt on the surface of social life. It instantly adopts the changing forms of the disturbance. It, also, is afroth with a saline base. Like froth, it sparkles. It is gaiety itself. But the philosopher who gathers a handful to taste may find that the substance is scanty, and the after-taste bitter.
"La indiferencia es su medio natural. La risa no tiene mayor enemigo que la emoción. No quiero decir que nosotros no nos podamos reir de una persona que nos inspira piedad [...] solamente que entonces , por algunos instantes, será necesario olvidar ese afecto, hacer callar a esa piedad."
"[Lo cómico] Expresa entonces una imperfección individual y colectiva que llama a la corrección inmediata. La risa es esa corrección misma. La risa es un cierto gesto social que señala y reprime una precisa distracción especial de los hombres y de los acontecimientos."