Every TV episode has a problem, right? A conflict or question that lies at its heart and is going to get resolved by the episode's end. On some of the best shows that resolution will only create new conflicts and questions. And really most shows it's probably more than one; certainly in ensembles or dramas that's the case.
The problem of "Chuckles"--the battle between sobriety and laughter--plays out very concretely scene to scene. Over the course of scenes we see more and more people coming around to the idea of having a sense of humor about death. When Lou has Ted do an on-air eulogy, he's very serious about it, and Ted's intention is clearly the same even as what he has to say is ridiculous.
But then as Murray tells Lou jokes Lou slowly converts to the cause of absurdity. Then Sue Ann. Then we get that intensely dramatic scene where Mary comes down HARD on them. (I'm going to post something about that scene sometime soon. It's so well written.) So the comic is clearly on the rise, but it has not won the day.
We end on the comic winning out in the most hilarious and total way possible, in a sequence that physically embodies the very conflict of the whole episode. Mary literally sits there fighting to keep from laughing, until she can't.
You could end the sequence on that note, and you'd be fine. The problem has been resolved. Comedy wins the day.
But genius that writer David Lloyd is, he adds one more beat--the minister telling Mary Chuckles would want her to laugh, which makes her burst into tears. In fully embracing the comedy of the moment, we also fully comprehend the loss. And it's so unexpected it's also funny. Having set us up to think our only options in this moment are laughter or tears, in the end Lloyd reveals a third option we didn't see coming: both.
(He's actually been seeding that possibility all the way along--Lou and Murray stopping in the midst of their jokes to have a very serious and thoughtful conversation about why we laugh in the face of death; Georgette's comments.)
In part this is just me saying "Isn't that great writing?" But there is a lesson to be learned here, too. Lloyd set up the audience to see the episode going one way: eventually Mary's going to break. Eventually comedy's going to win. And more generally, that comedy/sadness is an either/or. And because he's done that, when she bursts into tears we are truly surprised. It's the definition of sleight of hand; he's got us looking at the left hand while we should be looking at the right.
We can do the same thing in our scripts. It's not the kind of thing you might put together in your first draft, mind you, but once you've got a draft, we can step back and say, what expectations have I set up in the audience at the start of the script? What's the problem that I've established?
And then how can I use those expectations to surprise? If I've given the audience an either/or, what's the third way they won't see coming.
As writers we're always trying to get as something true, but we're always liars too, telling people to think certain things only so that we can then undermine them.
