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The Revolution Will Be Hilarious
An insider’s look at the power of comedy to effect social change
From Trevor Noah’s The Daily Show and Hasan Minhaj’s Patriot Act , to Issa Rae’s Insecure and Corey Ryan Forrester’s Twitter feed, today’s multi-platform comedy refuses to shy away from the social issues that define our time.As more comedians lean into social justice activism, they help reshape the entertainment industry and offer creative, dynamic avenues for social change.
The Revolution Will Be Hilarious offers a compelling insider’s look at how comedy and social justice activists are working together in a revolutionary media moment. Caty Borum invites readers into an expanding, enterprising arena of participatory culture and politics through in-depth interviews with comedians, social justice leaders, and Hollywood players. Their insights shed light on questions such What role does comedy play in helping communities engage the public with challenging social issues? How do social justice organizations and comedians co-create entertaining comedy designed to build the civic power of marginalized groups? And how are entertainment industry leaders working with social justice organizations to launch new comedy as both entertainment and inspiration for social change?
Through this exploration, Borum argues that building creative power is crucial for marginalized groups to build civic power. The Revolution Will Be Hilarious positions the rise of social justice comedy as creative, disruptive storytelling that hilariously invites us to agitate the status quo and re-imagine social realities to come closer to the promise of equity and justice in America.
From Trevor Noah’s The Daily Show and Hasan Minhaj’s Patriot Act , to Issa Rae’s Insecure and Corey Ryan Forrester’s Twitter feed, today’s multi-platform comedy refuses to shy away from the social issues that define our time.As more comedians lean into social justice activism, they help reshape the entertainment industry and offer creative, dynamic avenues for social change.
The Revolution Will Be Hilarious offers a compelling insider’s look at how comedy and social justice activists are working together in a revolutionary media moment. Caty Borum invites readers into an expanding, enterprising arena of participatory culture and politics through in-depth interviews with comedians, social justice leaders, and Hollywood players. Their insights shed light on questions such What role does comedy play in helping communities engage the public with challenging social issues? How do social justice organizations and comedians co-create entertaining comedy designed to build the civic power of marginalized groups? And how are entertainment industry leaders working with social justice organizations to launch new comedy as both entertainment and inspiration for social change?
Through this exploration, Borum argues that building creative power is crucial for marginalized groups to build civic power. The Revolution Will Be Hilarious positions the rise of social justice comedy as creative, disruptive storytelling that hilariously invites us to agitate the status quo and re-imagine social realities to come closer to the promise of equity and justice in America.
280 pages, Paperback
Published February 28, 2023
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
February 14, 2023
Comedy is and always has been difficult to discuss, much less write about. Unless you’re telling stories about other comics, it tends to get serious, dry, and boring. So it was with some trepidation that I accepted to review The Revolution Will Be Hilarious by Caty Borum. It turned out to be completely different from my expectations.
Borum is deeply, heavily and submersibly involved in leveraging the under-represented in comedy. Once it gets off the ground, the book is all about various groups: Black, Indigenous, LGBTQ+, Asian, women, handicapped –anyone we might think of as a minority. She works with them to create opportunities to put on a show. Very much like a Shirley Temple movie.
They learn to schmooze, to pitch, to apply, to edit, to support each other and ultimately to shine. That’s all great, but it’s nothing new, except that it is reserved for minorities.
Which brings up what I think is the more important half of the book – the first half, before it gets off the ground.
Comedy has changed, Borum reports. It used to be that there were very few outlets. Maybe six television stations, no streaming and a totally inadequate and unorganized club circuit. Comedians had to fit what producers wanted precisely, or get no work. Referrals were king; unrequested submissions were often returned unopened. Breaking into comedy was far more stressful than the job itself.
Producers only wanted specific kinds of comedy and comedians because not only were there very few outlets, but they were national. The legend is the New York City waterworks people always knew when the commercials were in I Love Lucy, because hundreds of thousands of toilets would flush simultaneously. Shows had to have really broad appeal to maximize revenues nationwide. And minorities didn’t fit that bill because they had limited appeal. They would be inefficient in the marketplace for comedy.
Borum does not describe it this way, but that is the reality of the way it was. Fast forward to today, and there is a sudden demand for the niche. Producers are now open to all kinds of new pitches because there are now so many outlets. Filling them by being overdemanding will not work. Limited appeal suddenly works economically. It is a matter of serving an audience segment that was not worth serving until the funnel became a pipe.
By gathering up minorities into workgroups, several things happen. The performers and writers coalesce. Partnerships form. Agents, managers, funders, producers and showrunners have entertaining mass auditions to attend, in the form of the shows these new groups put on. Development deals are offered. Writers get hired. Investments are made. And astonishingly, new and innovative product comes to market.
If you haven’t already surmised it, what Borum is doing is simply opening and/or managing incubators. Had she just used that word, she could have saved endless pages of explanation. But the only time she says incubator is on the very last page, writing about herself in the About The Author slot. Instead, the book is painfully repetitious and pedantic. Everything gets explained over and over for every new group she describes.
And she loves lists. Endless lists of participants you likely never heard of, and the same list of minorities over and over. She’s bona fide Hollywood – namedropping as long as there’s a breath left in her. Meanwhile, the process is little different for gays than it is for natives or latinx, but the whole story gets a reprise, every chapter. Only the names change.
The product of these efforts may not be of interest. It may not be funny. And it may only be available on some pay service you do not subscribe to or even have available. But stuff is getting out there. This, until recently, had been simply inconceivable.
And that is the true value of the book. If you are a 22 year-old wannabe, this book shows the new lay of the land. The old Hollywood model is crumbling. There are suddenly openings, cracks in the structure that truckloads of people in their little groups can drive right through. Instead of fitting the rigid mould, showrunners suddenly want to know how candidates are unique. They want to see how different a writer can be, not how well they copy the show’s style. This is a total reversal. It is real drama for Hollywood. To that extent, this is a valuable book. It is the new how to get work in comedy manual. Unintentionally.
However. There are a number of things wrong with the book. First of all, the title The Revolution Will Be Hilarious, implies laughter will be involved. This is then reinforced by the cartoon cover, which looks whimsical. Then, Borum spends the preface telling readers what a cutup she is. All through school she couldn’t help being the class clown. She entertained her own family, keeping her aunts in stitches as she mocked family members. She immediately got work with Norman Lear, who glommed on to her sense of humor in a one hour job interview that lasted three instead. She just can’t help herself, she confesses; she‘s a joker. And yet, there is not a single laugh in the whole book. With all the comedians and clowns she interviewed and worked with, no one ever had anything even remotely funny to contribute. And especially not Borum.
She keeps claiming that meetings were hilarious! The productions were hilarious, the films were hilarious and the sitcoms were hilarious. The car rides with a load of comedians were hilarious! But she never shares any of it beyond using the word hilarious at least 16 times in the book. Readers will become annoyed – because there is never a payoff. I still have no idea what she considers hilarious. Hilarity is apparently sacred, and can only be referred to in glowing terms. Finally, in the last 40 pages, she quotes some comics putting on one of the shows she was involved in. It was meant to alert Blacks and other minorities to the hazards of climate change. It was, of course, hilarious! But it turned out to be just uncreative, formulaic bits and terribly unfunny. At least, what made it to print was. Maybe you had to be there.
Secondly, there is no revolution. Hollywood and entertainment in general have always produced activists. One doesn’t have to agree with their positions to recognize their status as activists or even of minorities. That Borum is at the center of activism today is interesting, but it is hardly revolutionary.
Which brings up the third point, history. Readers might think Borum would reference this heritage with examples of comedian activists throughout history, and how their messages have evolved, where breakthroughs occurred and even changed the discussion, and so on. And failures, too: setbacks on the road to diversity. Amos & Andy or Stepin Fetchit for example.
There are lots of great lines and stories of say, leftist (and part Indian) Will Rogers in the Depression (On being introduced to the pope at the Vatican, Rogers shook his hand, leaned over to the pope’s ear and said gently: “Sorry, I didn’t catch the name”). Or Mort Sahl in the Kennedy era (“Anyone who holds a consistent foreign policy position in this country must eventually be tried for treason”). Or Tommy Smothers during the war in Viet Nam, or Dick Gregory on race, or George Carlin on the environment, or wheelchair-bound Michael Flanders or Tom Lehrer or Lewis Black. It’s just so much richer if you can give examples and not just name drop. And while Hollywood is ALL over namedropping, this is supposed to be a book for the reading public. But there’s nothing entertaining in this book about the entertainment industry. The stories are all the same, and they’re flat. It is as dry as a bone in California desert.
Fourth and finally, since this is such a thorough compendium of minority activists, there really should be a resources section, where readers can find some of these groups and join them, support them, or hire them. They could be arranged by cause – Black, Latinx, LGTBQ+, indigenous, Asian, etc. But that’s not part of this thing, either. No websites, facebook pages or twitter handles. Not even for the organizing groups Borum founded and manages.
It was most unsatisfying.
David Wineberg
(The Revolution Will Be Hilarious, Caty Borum, February 2023)
If you liked this review, I invite you to read more in my book The Straight Dope. It’s an essay collection based on my first thousand reviews and what I learned. Right now it’s FREE for Prime members, otherwise — cheap! Reputed to be fascinating and a superfast read. And you already know it is well-written. https://www.amazon.com/Straight-Dope-...
Borum is deeply, heavily and submersibly involved in leveraging the under-represented in comedy. Once it gets off the ground, the book is all about various groups: Black, Indigenous, LGBTQ+, Asian, women, handicapped –anyone we might think of as a minority. She works with them to create opportunities to put on a show. Very much like a Shirley Temple movie.
They learn to schmooze, to pitch, to apply, to edit, to support each other and ultimately to shine. That’s all great, but it’s nothing new, except that it is reserved for minorities.
Which brings up what I think is the more important half of the book – the first half, before it gets off the ground.
Comedy has changed, Borum reports. It used to be that there were very few outlets. Maybe six television stations, no streaming and a totally inadequate and unorganized club circuit. Comedians had to fit what producers wanted precisely, or get no work. Referrals were king; unrequested submissions were often returned unopened. Breaking into comedy was far more stressful than the job itself.
Producers only wanted specific kinds of comedy and comedians because not only were there very few outlets, but they were national. The legend is the New York City waterworks people always knew when the commercials were in I Love Lucy, because hundreds of thousands of toilets would flush simultaneously. Shows had to have really broad appeal to maximize revenues nationwide. And minorities didn’t fit that bill because they had limited appeal. They would be inefficient in the marketplace for comedy.
Borum does not describe it this way, but that is the reality of the way it was. Fast forward to today, and there is a sudden demand for the niche. Producers are now open to all kinds of new pitches because there are now so many outlets. Filling them by being overdemanding will not work. Limited appeal suddenly works economically. It is a matter of serving an audience segment that was not worth serving until the funnel became a pipe.
By gathering up minorities into workgroups, several things happen. The performers and writers coalesce. Partnerships form. Agents, managers, funders, producers and showrunners have entertaining mass auditions to attend, in the form of the shows these new groups put on. Development deals are offered. Writers get hired. Investments are made. And astonishingly, new and innovative product comes to market.
If you haven’t already surmised it, what Borum is doing is simply opening and/or managing incubators. Had she just used that word, she could have saved endless pages of explanation. But the only time she says incubator is on the very last page, writing about herself in the About The Author slot. Instead, the book is painfully repetitious and pedantic. Everything gets explained over and over for every new group she describes.
And she loves lists. Endless lists of participants you likely never heard of, and the same list of minorities over and over. She’s bona fide Hollywood – namedropping as long as there’s a breath left in her. Meanwhile, the process is little different for gays than it is for natives or latinx, but the whole story gets a reprise, every chapter. Only the names change.
The product of these efforts may not be of interest. It may not be funny. And it may only be available on some pay service you do not subscribe to or even have available. But stuff is getting out there. This, until recently, had been simply inconceivable.
And that is the true value of the book. If you are a 22 year-old wannabe, this book shows the new lay of the land. The old Hollywood model is crumbling. There are suddenly openings, cracks in the structure that truckloads of people in their little groups can drive right through. Instead of fitting the rigid mould, showrunners suddenly want to know how candidates are unique. They want to see how different a writer can be, not how well they copy the show’s style. This is a total reversal. It is real drama for Hollywood. To that extent, this is a valuable book. It is the new how to get work in comedy manual. Unintentionally.
However. There are a number of things wrong with the book. First of all, the title The Revolution Will Be Hilarious, implies laughter will be involved. This is then reinforced by the cartoon cover, which looks whimsical. Then, Borum spends the preface telling readers what a cutup she is. All through school she couldn’t help being the class clown. She entertained her own family, keeping her aunts in stitches as she mocked family members. She immediately got work with Norman Lear, who glommed on to her sense of humor in a one hour job interview that lasted three instead. She just can’t help herself, she confesses; she‘s a joker. And yet, there is not a single laugh in the whole book. With all the comedians and clowns she interviewed and worked with, no one ever had anything even remotely funny to contribute. And especially not Borum.
She keeps claiming that meetings were hilarious! The productions were hilarious, the films were hilarious and the sitcoms were hilarious. The car rides with a load of comedians were hilarious! But she never shares any of it beyond using the word hilarious at least 16 times in the book. Readers will become annoyed – because there is never a payoff. I still have no idea what she considers hilarious. Hilarity is apparently sacred, and can only be referred to in glowing terms. Finally, in the last 40 pages, she quotes some comics putting on one of the shows she was involved in. It was meant to alert Blacks and other minorities to the hazards of climate change. It was, of course, hilarious! But it turned out to be just uncreative, formulaic bits and terribly unfunny. At least, what made it to print was. Maybe you had to be there.
Secondly, there is no revolution. Hollywood and entertainment in general have always produced activists. One doesn’t have to agree with their positions to recognize their status as activists or even of minorities. That Borum is at the center of activism today is interesting, but it is hardly revolutionary.
Which brings up the third point, history. Readers might think Borum would reference this heritage with examples of comedian activists throughout history, and how their messages have evolved, where breakthroughs occurred and even changed the discussion, and so on. And failures, too: setbacks on the road to diversity. Amos & Andy or Stepin Fetchit for example.
There are lots of great lines and stories of say, leftist (and part Indian) Will Rogers in the Depression (On being introduced to the pope at the Vatican, Rogers shook his hand, leaned over to the pope’s ear and said gently: “Sorry, I didn’t catch the name”). Or Mort Sahl in the Kennedy era (“Anyone who holds a consistent foreign policy position in this country must eventually be tried for treason”). Or Tommy Smothers during the war in Viet Nam, or Dick Gregory on race, or George Carlin on the environment, or wheelchair-bound Michael Flanders or Tom Lehrer or Lewis Black. It’s just so much richer if you can give examples and not just name drop. And while Hollywood is ALL over namedropping, this is supposed to be a book for the reading public. But there’s nothing entertaining in this book about the entertainment industry. The stories are all the same, and they’re flat. It is as dry as a bone in California desert.
Fourth and finally, since this is such a thorough compendium of minority activists, there really should be a resources section, where readers can find some of these groups and join them, support them, or hire them. They could be arranged by cause – Black, Latinx, LGTBQ+, indigenous, Asian, etc. But that’s not part of this thing, either. No websites, facebook pages or twitter handles. Not even for the organizing groups Borum founded and manages.
It was most unsatisfying.
David Wineberg
(The Revolution Will Be Hilarious, Caty Borum, February 2023)
If you liked this review, I invite you to read more in my book The Straight Dope. It’s an essay collection based on my first thousand reviews and what I learned. Right now it’s FREE for Prime members, otherwise — cheap! Reputed to be fascinating and a superfast read. And you already know it is well-written. https://www.amazon.com/Straight-Dope-...
September 20, 2024
I appreciated the themes and content of the book. The author makes meaningful arguments, interesting people are introduced to share their stories, and the overall thesis is powerful.
The writing was just bad. It’s randomly 10% a memoir where Borum is quoting herself or talking about her previous work. That felt out of place in a what otherwise was a more academic assessment of social movements and comedy. Some sections were overly verbose. Just end the chapter if you’ve made your point, don’t go back and add three adjectives to every sentence. And I respect the effort to name people involved, but I ended up skipping the paragraphs of just names to stay awake. If you introduce someone, they should be given enough background and focus that they will be memorable. Too many people were introduced for the sake of including their name and were not talked about again.
This book could be rewritten at half the length and double the stars.
The writing was just bad. It’s randomly 10% a memoir where Borum is quoting herself or talking about her previous work. That felt out of place in a what otherwise was a more academic assessment of social movements and comedy. Some sections were overly verbose. Just end the chapter if you’ve made your point, don’t go back and add three adjectives to every sentence. And I respect the effort to name people involved, but I ended up skipping the paragraphs of just names to stay awake. If you introduce someone, they should be given enough background and focus that they will be memorable. Too many people were introduced for the sake of including their name and were not talked about again.
This book could be rewritten at half the length and double the stars.
October 12, 2023
Comedy is tough to write about especially from an academic standpoint
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews