THE URBANE INDIAN - People prefer seriousness over humour?

Comedy is a very serious business. I know, I've been in the business for over 20 years, with the occasional foray into what could be referred to as serious drama. It's like living on Italian food but ordering in Chinese occasionally. I was once told by an Elder from Alberta's Blood Reserve that "humour is the WD40 of healing." Intriguing. Messy but intriguing. Humour is also, in my humble opinion, the best way to deliver a message - the proverbial medicine with a spoon full of sugar. And who doesn't like a good laugh.
As a result, I've spent my life studying and practicing the art of humour, with varying degrees of success. I've even written a book and directed an NFB documentary about the wonders of Native humour. To me, Native humour honours our culture in ways bannock never can (and a humble apology to all the bannock lovers out there). Think of it as a pow wow of the mind, and/or funny bone
"What do you call an Indian with a Ph.D?
A doctor, you f****** racist!"
But lately, there seems to be, and I could be paranoid, this sort of subversive plot to turn me towards I guess what can be called, the Dark Side of the Farce. I've been getting more and more requests to write, dare I say the word, serious stuff. Material and stories that ring with Aboriginal angst, First Nation anguish, and Indigenous agony. And it's beginning to scare me. Oppression, depression and suppression of a culture have been known to give me hives.
Often it always starts with an innocent question like "do you ever write stuff that isn't funny?" or a statement like "I prefer your more serious stuff better." It is a well known fact that humour and comedy is known as the illegitimate cousin of writing. Look how rarely comedies are nominated or win any of the major movie awards.
With that being said, I am at a crisis of career. Last year my first novel came out. Just your average Ojibway vampire story (write your own joke). Not a comedy per se but with lots of funny bits scattered through out the book. Just telling people the very fact it's a First Nations vampire novel alone will often make them smile. For my next book, the publisher kindly hinted that she would love me to write a Residential School novel, from the Native student's perspective. As we say in funny business, "and the jokes just write themselves." I don't think the world's ready for a residential school comedy, any more than a musical about the Holocaust. So I turned down the request, hinting that perhaps I wasn't the right person for the job.
Just last year, I was a writer in residence for a popular Native theatre company, and was about to start work on a new play for them. It was then the Artistic Director that told me directly and rather strongly that she would prefer something of a more serious nature from me. Paraphrasing, she wanted me to write something depressing that celebrated the dysfunctional Aboriginal. "We know you can be funny, Drew. Let's see you be serious."
I've been serious. But the novelty wears off after a while. And being funny is more fun. And who's to say the two cannot go hand in hand. Some of the best humour I've seen resonates with pain, reality and darkness. And there are already so many people out there who excel at presenting the darker side of First Nation existence. Why should I eat from their plate?
I've just finished my second novel ­ no, not the Residential School story, instead a comedic tale about a contemporary legend. My agent, upon reading it, said "it's a lot more comedic then literary." Again, why can't the two be intertwined? Ever read Green Grass, Running Water or Catch 22? Still, she wants that serious novel from me sometime. Maybe, in a fit of depression, I'll write one, just to get these people off my back.
Granted I did give into the Artistic Director's challenge. I did write that serious play for the theatre company. After much soul searching, I wrote about a Residential School survivor seeing his abuser on the street and following him to work. IT was difficult to write. Unsettling. Not my usual material. I did manage to slip in some black humour, because in my experience, that is the Native way. Even when facing tragedy, we still laugh. Hopefully those will slide by the A.D.'s notice.
Whether it will ever get produced, who knows. It may not even be any good. And people might not want to see it because, again, I'm known for my humour. In the States I have been called the Native Neil Simon so many times. That is both a good and bad thing. Admittedly, its hard to envision him doing that Holocaust musical I mentioned earlier. Still, I'm glad I wrote that play, just because I wanted to see if I could. Now I know I can. So that means I can get back to my first love.
"What do you call 64 Métis in one room?
One full blood."