“So, uh, I thought this was going to be kinda funny but it’s actually kinda sad.”
That line - a throwaway piece of dialogue from a scene in Jody Hill’s 2009 dark comedy OBSERVE AND REPORT - is a perfect summarization of my favorite kind of comedy. I like to laugh, but I like to laugh even more when those giggles come between moments of deep sadness. I’m weird that way.
On a related note, I absolutely loved James Gunn’s PEACEMAKER - an episodic television spin-off of the writer/director’s 2021 reboot, THE SUICIDE SQUAD. In the HBO Max show, John Cena reprises his role as a morally detestable anti-hero who is recruited by the US government to run black-ops missions too dirty for the usual gang of good guys to tackle. It’s clear that Gunn was inspired by Jody Hill’s own work in television - shows like EASTBOUND AND DOWN, THE RIGHTEOUS GEMSTONES, and VICE-PRINCIPALS - as Gunn is unafraid to really dig into the inner lives of characters who are borderline unredeemable, and then proceed to try and redeem them.
By the way, it truly is astonishing how every new thing James Gunn makes instantly becomes my new favorite thing James Gunn has made. He’s that rare modern filmmaker who clings tightly to his roots while continuously pushing his craft forward. There’s a throughline that exists in Gunn’s filmography - each new project is a completely natural evolution of his artistic craft and world point-of-view. It’s like watching a dinosaur turn into a chicken and then a fried drumstick. Yum.
PEACEMAKER is the perfect hybrid of Gunn’s big superhero studio films and the messy tragicomedy of SUPER, the 2010 Rainn Wilson film. In PEACEMAKER, Gunn delivers big, bombastic action and plenty of exploding heads - but he also includes deep, profoundly sad moments where the characters sit in silence and consider their actions or inactions.
I’ve dealt with depression most of my life and the depths of this depression fluctuate. Most days I only have the faintest buzz of melancholy - a tingling in the back of my head that things aren’t right or that life could be better. Some days, though, this depression rears its teeth and sinks its fangs into the nape of my neck - causing me to curl up in a ball, listen to the same ten songs on repeat, and wonder if life is even worth struggling with. I know I’m not alone in this struggle with mental health. Many - most? - people have dealt with this deep, uncontrollable sadness during their lives. The kind of sadness that wraps around you like a thick fog and obscures all logic and light. The kind of sadness that holds you tight and refuses to let you escape. The kind of sadness that causes you to watch K.D. Lang music videos on Youtube until 4 AM.
What do you do with this sadness? My answer has always been to turn it into a joke. I laugh at my depression, try and find the humor in it. And - trust you me - this humor is frequently gallows AF. I cling to morbidity because - in doing so - it puts things in perspective. Things could always be worse. Dark cringe humor is my comfort. It makes me feel less powerless and gives me ownership of my misery. It’s like punching the bully. Sure, you’re probably still going to get a black eye, but that black eye will feel more like a trophy than a wound.
Time and time again, comedy has saved my life. I love laughing - the hope that I’ll experience something funny during my day is one of the top five things that gets me out of bed in the morning. Even still, I recognize that laughter never exists in a vacuum. A punchline is the result of a build-up of emotions - comedy, yes, but also sadness, horror, grief, tragedy, survival. Laughter is entwined with all the messy, unpleasurable parts of the human experience. It’s the inseparable catharsis.
In 2018, James Gunn was fired from GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY, VOL. 3 over decade-old Twitter posts he made at the beginning of his filmmaker career that were dug up and circulated by right-wing pundits. These Tweets saw Gunn making jokes about child molestation and other taboo topics. The political and cultural outrage among a certain section of the country was high and Disney, doing what Disney does, let Gunn go.
There was a moment where Gunn’s career could have 100 percent ended. The jokes were shocking. The high-profile loss of his gig seemed like a line in the sand. Gunn was being told - in no uncertain words - that he was a bad person, a toxic individual who did not deserve to make a family film for the world’s largest entertainment company. Gunn’s career did not end, of course. He would be hired by Warner Brothers and then, eventually, be rehired by Disney to finish his GOTG trilogy.
Both PEACEMAKER and THE SUICIDE SQUAD before it feel like Gunn reckoning with this experience. His characters are criminals - taken from prison and given a second chance to establish themselves and their agency. They aren’t good guys, necessary - they are unable to erase their past and the things they’ve done - but they are also more than the black hat, mustache-twirling super villains society has painted them as. They have hopes, fears, dreams, the capacity to do good. Instead of curling up into a ball and giving up their lives, they do the only thing they can do - they go on living.
And, thanks to Gunn’s writing and directing, they’re funny as hell, even as they are getting shot through the head.