The Labor Theory of Comedy

(As this seems to be a series of ideas I'm continually coming back to, it might be worth noting that the following entry is pretty much the flip side to this one, and, perhaps, a logical extension of this one.)

Producing a show, depending on its scale, can be fairly labor-intensive: one of the first things my mime instructor said to me was "Every minute onstage is three hours of work." I've found the formula to be, if a bit pithy, about roughly correct for me. Every now and again I hear it suggested that it represents some great inequity (and some great iniquity, heh) that we aren't directly recompensed for that behind-the-scenes work (e.g. memorizing lines, writing press releases, etc.).

This suggestion is related to a concept Karl Marx championed (contrary to popular belief, he didn't create it), called "the labor theory of value." In its simplest expression (and with the caveat that I'm grossly simplifying an idea that's been taken to some pretty complicated extremes), it proposes that the value of a product is equivalent to the amount of labor that went into its construction. Like most of Marx's ideas, it's seductive because it just *feels* right, it *seems* just; and, like most of Marx's ideas, it falls apart after a cursory examination.

Take a chair, for example. (No, seriously, take one. This could be a while.) A skilled carpenter may produce a superior chair rapidly, while an unskilled one may take much longer. Should the unskilled carpenter then be paid more, for producing an inferior product?

(I've heard it proposed that the carpenter's training and experience should be calculated, as well, but that also sinks the theory, because training and experience do not always equal skill. I'm a much better writer now than I was a decade ago, but that's largely because I was remarkably bad. There *is* such a thing as natural talent, people who walk in off the street and pick up new skills quickly and easily. It galls me to state it, because I've really had to work at the skills I now possess, but I can't deny that I've seen it happen.)

See, but I grasp the seduction of the theory, because it's an idea I've struggled against for years. The thing is, the joke that I labored over, that I think is actually sort of clever and works on multiple levels, will always fall flatter than an eight-year-old Chinese prostitute, while the boring filler joke I wrote for a segue always hits.

(Sorry, I got nothing.)

It doesn't *feel* right, it doesn't *seem* just, but it's the reality of the stage, just as supply and demand is the reality of the marketplace.

The problem with the arts is that they're so fucking *inefficient*. Assuming 180 hours of labor for a one-hour show, and a $1,000 net profit (not including expenses!) wouldn't even clear minimum wage. (And a $1,000 profit is a pipe dream for most of us, who are struggling to stay in the black. A $10 profit is cause for a drink in celebration, and there goes your $10.) Which is why the single most sensible business decision for someone in show business may be to find a new profession.