Category: Writing

The film noir detective film, with its hard-boiled detectives and gorgeous, backstabbing dames, is a great genre to parody, whether as a comedy sketch, a sequence in a movie or sitcom, or an improvised scene.

I’m going to discuss a few quick’n’dirty tricks to creating a detective genre parody.

Imitating any genre usually requires either (1) an intimate knowledge of the genre, or (2) a number of tricks which make it appear that you have an intimate knowledge of the genre. Here we’re going to be looking at strategy number 2, as it applies to the 1940s detective mystery genre. (If you’re an improvisor, you can use the same techniques if you get the suggestion “film noir”.)

The detective genre depends heavily on language, and using plausible detective jargon will take you a long way in a scene. You’ll find a list of some useful phrases below. You can also make up your own. Try to use metaphors and similes that conjure up images of the world the detective lives in. A big grimy city, filled with tough guys, narrow alleys, cheap bars, and greasy diners.

Food references are good, but make sure they’re the kind of food you’d get in a diner: “Big Ed’s operation was like smoked meat. And I was going to put it on rye.”

Make references to any grimy part of a city—sewers, rats, cockroaches: “Big Ed’s operation was like a sewer. And I was going to lift the manhole cover.”

Connecting something to drinking is good too: “Big Ed’s operation was like a cheap bourbon. And I was going to put it on ice.”

Titles

These can be one of two types:

1. The Big… something. (The Big Sleep, The Big Blue, the Big Bad Wolf . . . )

2. Any well-known phrase which has had one of its words removed and replaced with the word “murder”:

• Coffee, Tea, or Murder!
• Eight Murdering Days till Christmas
• Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Murderer!
• Pleased to Murder you
• Pop! Goes the Murder

The word “death” is an alternative substitute:

• I Now Declare You Man and Death
• Death around the Roses
• A Big Mac with Fries and Death
• She Loves You, Yeah Yeah Death

The titles don’t have to make much sense, providing they follow these rules. If you go to a bookstore specializing in mysteries, you may find that the made-up combinations you thought were corny are actually the titles of real books!

How to Move

Once you have the jargon down, try working on the typical detective moves.

Everybody smokes in detective films. Cool characters will remove the cigarette from the packet, place it into their mouth, and light it, using only one hand. Women will blow smoke into the faces of men (this was once considered sexy).

When entering a room which may contain your enemies, the detective should always move sideways, holding your gun against your ear. (Is this in order to deal with enemies by threatening suicide?) The rest of the time, keep your hands in your pockets. Don’t smile, or go big with emotions. (This does not mean that you shouldn’t use emotions—rather, play them as very suppressed.) You may find it helps to talk out of one side of your mouth.

Women are usually the femme fatale type, walking with their hips, and apparently with no aim in life but to be seduced by men.

The Plot

The detective is in his office. It’s a slow day. Then a woman appears at the door. (He will usually fall in love with her during the course of the story, if not immediately.) She will give him some strange assignment, and is willing to pay his high fees. Inevitably the case will be more than it seems. The detective gets clunked over the head for no apparent reason. Perhaps someone will tell him to drop the case (which will only make him more determined to solve it). The story will end with a gunfight, and with the detective getting the girl (or for her wanting him but him having only contempt for her), and a complicated explanation, which, ideally, makes almost no sense.

How to Use the Genre in Improv

Of course, this genre can be used within the Genre Options game; however, this is a difficult game, and even many experienced improvisors can’t play it well. A better strategy is to perform a complete detective scene. You might ask the audience for a title (The Big [blank]), and then perform that title in the detective genre. This allows you to concentrate on this genre, rather than trying to practice the many genres required for Genre Options.

The constant first-person narration usually found in the detective mystery (“I went inside. I didn’t like what I saw . . .” etc.) makes it ideal for Typewriter Scenes, where the player on the microphone provides the detective’s narration, and another player plays the on-stage detective. (If you are doing a detective scene without an off-stage narrator, the improvisor playing the detective should frequently switch to narrator mode, delivering narrative directly to the audience.)

Something that is rarely seen on stage, but which should work well is to use the detective genre for a Word at a Time game. Once again, the narration fits in perfectly with the game.

Also, since the genre’s distinctiveness is mainly verbal, it can be used for a style in the Die Game.

Try adding the qualities of this genre to games where you might not normally use them—e.g., Boris, Fairy Tale, I Love You Scene, Arms Expert.

Sexism in the Detective Genre

Traditionally, the detective mystery contains a tough male lead character, who by modern standards would be perceived as a sexist pig. (“Hey, glamour! Get over here!”) The women who appear are usually there primarily as love interests.

There is nothing wrong with playing these scenes with men and women playing their usual stereotypes. After all, you are attempting to be faithful to a genre. However, if you decide to exaggerate the sexism for comic effect, don’t be surprised if it gets a negative reaction from the audience.

Some improvisors may want to experiment with the sex stereotyping in the detective mystery. Why not try placing women in the roles traditionally given to the men, and vice versa. Or place a 1940s detective in an environment filled with 1990s women, reacting appropriately to his sexist comments.

Before you try this at home . . .

Played well, this genre can get big laughs from an audience. However, it does require practice, and memorizing some of the common jargon. If you’re going to do it, make sure you do it well.

If you are really interested in the genre, try watching some of the old movies, especially the really bad ones. (Casablanca isn’t really typical.)

The Big Lingo

(A glossary of detective jargon)

I’d like to thank my my friend Russell Martin, who drew on his encyclopedic knowledge of mystery writing to put together the following the following lists of gangster jargon. Most of these can be found in actual mystery novels and movies.

• Ace: typical gangster nickname
• add up: what a caper doesn’t do till the end
• amble: walk
• Angel: form of address for a woman
• axe: musical instrument
• big cheese: gangster boss
• big house: prison
• big ones (as in five): thousands of dollars
• bird: guy
• bootlegger: dealer in illegal liquor
• bracelets: handcuffs
• bull: uniformed policeman
• bump off: kill
• bum’s rush, get the: be thrown out of a place
• burn: kill
• button man: assassin
• C-note: $100 bill
• cabbage: money
• cement overcoat: cement “coffin”
• Chicago heater: machine gun
• Chicago lightning: bullets
• Chicago typewriter: machine gun
• chill: kill
• chiseller: con artist
• cheap hood: small-time thug
• Cheese it! The cops!: Look out! The police!
• choppers: teeth
• Clyde: form of address for a man
• contract: agreement to kill someone
• copacetic: O.K., “everything’s copacetic.”
• cough up: hand over
• crack (this case) wide open: solve
• croak: die
• crumb: undesirable man
• crooner: singer (male)
• coffin nail: cigarette
• curtains: death
• dame: a woman
• dick: detective
• dive: place of ill character
• dough: money
• Duchess: form of address for a woman
• dust: leave in a hurry
• eyeball: look at
• fall in love with a client: what you never do.
• flatfoot: police detective
• frail: a woman
• (lousy) frameup: faked circumstances of a crime
• funny money: counterfeit
• G-man: FBI agent
• G’s (as in five): thousands of dollars
• gat: gun
• goon: thug
• gorgeous: form of address for a woman
• gorilla: muscular man
• grab some air: hands up
• grub: food
• gumshoe: private eye
• gunsel: gunman (spurious)
• hardware: gun
• heel: undesirable man
• heist (n,v): robbery; steal
• hit the pavement: walk
• hooch: liquor
• hoochie-coocher: exotic dancer
• hop-head: pot smoker
• hot: stolen
• hot seat: electric chair
• ice (n): diamonds
• ice (v): kill
• jane: a woman
• java: coffee
• Jersey: typical gangster nickname
• jimmy: pry open
• joint: place
• junk: drugs
• kingpin: head gangster
• lullaby cocktail: drugged drink
• Mac: form of address for a man
• making license plates: in prison
• nightcap: what you go to her apartment for
• old man, the: head of the detective agency, if you are not self-employed.
• Princess: form of address for a woman
• Purple Gang: typical name for a gang
• simoleons: dollars
• sing: confess
• sister: form of address for a woman
• squealer: informer
• stool pigeon: informer
• stoolie: informer
• sucker, a: what no one plays you for
• Sunday School picnic: what this caper isn’t turning into
• talk: confess
• tomato: a woman

Some useful metaphors and similes

• “An hour crawled by like a sick cockroach.”
• “This guy was tough. As tough as a nickel steak.”
• “It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window.”
• “His hands were big. As big as plates of spareribs, and twice as greasy.”
• “My rod was fresh out of fishhooks.”

This last phrase, by the way, means that the detective is out of ammunition, and not that he is impotent.

Note the structure when you describe somebody. “He was ____. As ____ as a ____.” Break it into two sentences. Private eyes don’t talk in long stretches.

Here’s a versatile phrase:

“I was mad. Real mad. So mad I could taste it.”

Any emotion can be substituted for the word “mad.”

Some good detective sentences:

• “The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.”
• “It was a blonde, and blondes always mean trouble.” (So do brunettes, redheads, etc.)
• “Mr. Big gave a signal. Two of his goons started to work me over.”
• “No one plays me for a sucker and gets away with it.”
• “There was more to this caper than I’d bargained for.”
• “The D.A. was after me, Lieutenant O’Hara was after me, Big Ed was after me. I had to crack this before someone caught up.”
• “I didn’t like his face. When he said he was called Smith, I didn’t like his name either.”
• “I don’t like to see cheap hoods messing with a sweet kid like you, Princess.”
• “She crossed her legs. She knew they were good. She leaned forward. She knew they were good too.”
• “I hadn’t started this thing, but it was up to me to finish it.”
• “You’re not working on this case any more, Mr. Hardstone. You’re fired.”/“Maybe you’ve fired me, but I haven’t fired me.”
• “There was a killer out there . . . and it was my job to find him.”

Further Reading…

Want more? Here are a couple of websites with good lists of detective slang.

Twists, Slug and Roscoes: A Glossary of Hardboiled Slang

Molls and Dolls – 1920s slang dictionary

If you’re writing sketch comedy, the monologue is a real time-saver.

A sketch comedy monologue usually involves one actor talking directly to the audience in character. The comedy comes from the character, and will usually have a story to it. It’s different from a standup monologue, which typically depends more heavily on a series of gags stuck together with weak segues.

Only one actor is required, so they’re easy to write, rehearse and produce, assuming your character isn’t simultaneously disemboweling an elephant, or shooting incoming TIE fighters. And even then, you can probably just mime them.

A monologue is a great choice to put before a big production number. While one cast member delivers the monologue, the rest can prepare for the sketch that follows.

Monologues are talky by nature. There probably won’t be a lot of action, and events may be told rather than shown. Avoid heading into talking head territory: make sure your characters have some attitude or emotion.

Monologues can be made more interesting if characters play a subtext, so what they’re saying is at odds with what they really think. A character who is supposed to be delivering a heartfelt thank you speech for best supporting actress might have the subtext that she resents not getting the starring role.

Monologue recipes

Here are a few starting points for comedy monologues:

One side of a telephone conversation
A lot of the comic potential here is making the audience imagine what is happening, or being said on the other end of the phone. Comedian Bob Newhart is a master of this genre, and his recordings from the 1960s are still funny today.

Welcoming a group of visitors
Treat the audience as the newcomers – perhaps to a school, a camp, a wellness symposium, a psychics conference. For example, in a brilliant Rowan Atkinson greeted new arrivals to hell.

An announcement to the audience
You might explain that one of your cast members has quit the group, or that the show has been cancelled and replaced by a different show. It’s usually played in a natural manner. Bob Odenkirk and David Cross frequently used this kind of technique in Mr. Show.

Talking to a different theatre audience
You treat the audience as an audience, which feels very natural. Perhaps Lincoln has just been shot, and you’re an actor on stage, trying to entertain the crowd while medical personnel look after the problem. Or, sticking with the historical theme, you’re Shakespeare, asking for feedback after the first performance of Hamlet. In an outstanding Eleanor Bron monologue from A Poke In The Eye With A Sharp Stick, she plays the nervous organizer of an amateur show. She nervously explains how performers have worked hard to create the show, and encourages the audience to work equally hard to enjoy it.

Talking to the audience as if they are an offstage character
A boyfriend breaking up a girlfriend. A villain talking to James Bond. In the film Pulp Fiction, Christopher Walken’s speech about the watch is a good comic monologue, and would probably work just as well as a sketch comedy piece.

Delivering a speech
An award acceptance. A video will. A speech at a wedding reception. A presidential address to the nation. This sort of format is often used in sketch shows such as Monty Python, SNL, Mr Show, and MAD TV.

Teacher addressing a class
This often turns up as a monologue format. Rowan Atkinson’s “Schoolmaster” sketch made him famous – half the sketch consists of the attendance list. Ben Stein’s schoolteacher scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is essentially a sketch monologue.

One of my favourite comedy words is “bathos”. Bathos is a technique which many experienced writers use instinctively, but most don’t know by name – which means you can throw the word around and sound cleverer than they are.

Bathos is humour that comes from an incongruous change of tone. In practice, this usually means a line or scene that starts out lofty but suddenly switches to lowbrow.

Bathos is not to be confused with pathos, which sounds similar, but isn’t funny at all. Pathos means playing on emotions. If your audience is laughing, it’s bathos. If they look sad, it’s pathos… or bathos that didn’t work.

There’s a film from 1985 called Morons from Outer Space about dimwitted aliens who visit Earth. The tag line is a classic piece of bathos:

They came… They saw… They did a bit of shopping.

You can see how the first two items on the list set up a Caesar-like tone – power, determination to succeed. Then the third one bursts the bubble, with a tone of dithery consumerism.

(Here’s an Interesting Fact: I have read that Caesar’s original quote, “veni, vidi, vici”, was meant to emphasize the ease and speed of his victory, rather than make it sound grand. So the lofty tone of “I came, I saw, I conquered” is all wrong. It was more like, “Came, saw, conquered.” He was a bit of a comedian, that Caesar.)

Here’s another bathetic example. This one is from a competition in New York Magazine, where readers were challenged to writing a Jeopardy-style answer-question.

The answer: Blood, Sweat and Tears

The question: What are the three least popular ice-cream flavours at Baskin Robbins?

The setup sets a tone of hard work, and noble struggle, and then the punchline turns “blood, sweat and tears” from high-minded abstractions into distasteful bodily fluids.

This next one is an example of bathos from the classic British radio series I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again. John Cleese and Jo Kendall play a couple whose relationship is on the rocks.

MARY: John – once we had something that was pure, and wonderful, and good.  What’s happened to it?

JOHN: You spent it all.

Mary’s “something pure and wonderful” describes deep, spiritual, selfless love. But it’s described ambiguously enough that John can interpret it as hard cash.

Those are examples used in lines, but bathos can also work in a scene. There’s a famous episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show where Chuckles the clown has been tragically killed by a stampeding elephant. The rest of the people at the station can’t help making jokes about it, which Mary strongly disapproves of. Then she goes to the funeral, and while the minister delivers his speech, she suddenly starts laughing, while everyone else looks on in horror. This is a good example of how bathos can be used in a sitcom.

The same principle can be applied to more absurd styles of humour, too. The writers of Police Squad frequently use bathos. Look at this excerpt from The Naked Gun, where the writers repeatedly set up a serious tone with Ed and Wilma’s lines, only to knock it down again with Frank Drebin’s comments.

FRANK: A good cop – needlessly cut down by some cowardly hoodlums.
ED: That’s no way for a man to die.
FRANK: No… you’re right, Ed. A parachute not opening… that’s a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a combine… having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that’s the way I wanna go!
WILMA NORDBERG: Oh… Frank. This is terrible!
ED: Don’t you worry, Wilma. Your husband is going to be alright. Don’t you worry about anything. Just think positive. Never let a doubt enter your mind.
FRANK: He’s right, Wilma. But I wouldn’t wait until the last minute to fill out those organ donor cards.
[Wilma cries again]
ED: What I’m trying to say is that, Wilma, as soon as Nordberg is better, he’s welcome back at Police Squad.
FRANK: …Unless he’s a drooling vegetable. But I think that’s only common sense.
[Wilma cries again]

So, how do you write bathos? The first rule is that, because the comedy comes from the contrast in tone, you must create a serious, powerful dramatic situation. This can be difficult for a comedy writer, and it’s tempting to sneak a few jokes into the sad speech – but if you do, the quick laugh will ruin the bathos, because you lose the contrast in tone.

It’s like playing with blocks – first you build a high tower, then you knock it down. When you’re writing bathos, you need to do the work of setting the tone and building something serious before you can change the tone and watch it all come crashing down.

Many dramatic situations lend themselves to bathos – funerals, heroic deaths, or scenes where one person is breaking bad news to another:

• a policeman telling a woman that her husband (or child) is dead
• a doctor with bad news for a patient
• one person breaking up with another
• a person giving a speech before they are executed.

A good way to approach the scene is to push the drama as far as you can, making it as sad, or noble, or inspirational, or spiritual as possible. You could even write a completely straight version.

If the setup is done properly, writing the funny part is easy. Just identify a tone that is opposite to the serious one you’ve set up, and substitute it. If the tone is spiritual, make it bawdy or materialistic – focus on the body, sex, appetites, or money. If the tone is reverent, switch to one that is insulting. If it’s caring and compassionate, make it crass and selfish.

So, a line like

Marie was a caring mother, a loving wife, and a true friend.

might become

Marie was a caring mother, a loving wife, and a great lay.

One effective formula is to have a comic character who makes inappropriate comments, while others hold steadfastly to their serious roles (as in the Police Squad sample above).

Or you might keep the dialogue completely serious, but add some action which undermines it – for example, a doctor who has to tell a celebrity that he has a terminal disease, but keeps angling himself in front of a camera so he can get a thumbs-up photo of himself with the celebrity, or a minister who delivers a touching eulogy, but can’t stop farting.

That’s bathos – it’s erudite, it’s sophisticated, and it lets you write fart jokes.