can we take a joke?

I'm generally not big on advocacy documentaries -- that subset of documentaries that are, effectively, editorials on film. That's independent of whether or not i agree with the point. And it's largely because it's too easy for a talented filmmaker to cherrypick the facts and anecdotes in order to make the point in convincing manner. You want a film to convince people that 9/11 was an inside job? Pick your "experts" judiciously, and edit your footage the right way, and you can make one. You want a film to convince people that 9/11 was perpetrated by the Mossad? That's doable. Martians? A bit harder, but I'll bet a good documentarian could pull it off.

So, with that mindset, I was a little hesitant to see Can We Take a Joke, a documentary about censorship and sensitivity on college campuses, explored through the lens of stand-up comedy. But I've read and hear a lot about the rising attacks on free speech on campus. About how students increasingly need safe spaces to protect them from the harm of hearing opinions that they diagree with.  And I find these trends deeply troubling. These students who refuse to let dissenting voices be heard are doing themselves and their classmates a grave disservice, since they are removing some of the learning opportunities from the college experience. But, more importantly, they are  becoming a threat to one of the fundamental freedoms that this country was founded upon.

There was a lot in this movie that I thought was very well done. There's a description of events at Washington State when a student play was shut down by hecklers. And there's the student comedian at Reed College whose show was interrupted when a woman in the audience took offense and charged the stage. The subjects being interviewed (generally, stand-up comedians) made many good points, and they were often quite eloquent.

Yet, in some ways I felt disappointed. Often the discussions turned to arguments that the performances or speech that was deemed offensive really wasn't offensive. They may have been right about that, but it turned the argument in the wrong direction, implying that if the performances really were offensive then it would have been acceptable to shut them down. The point should have been that if you think a show is offensive you have every right not to go see it -- but you don't have the right to decide that no one should see it. Similarly, some of the comedians talked about the value in comedy, about it shedding light on our shared humanity -- or some such (I forget the exact quotes). Again, that's taking the argument in the wrong direction by implying that if there's no value then it's OK to censor it.

What I also noticed was the fact that, in this movie about the evils of censorship was the way some of the talking heads self censored.

Case in point, Lisa Lampanelli. She talked about how, for her, nothing's off the table.Then, to illustrate, we see a clip from one of her performances. She thanks "the Blacks and Spics" for coming. Hmmm. Any word she knows to avoid? Then she went on a jag about potentially getting raped by Blacks.So, let's keep score here. It's OK to imply that blacks are rapists, but not to use the n-word. And, of course, there I go -- using a euphemism too. Similarly, Gilbert Gottfried talks about the incident when Mel Gibson was recorded screaming at his ex-wife into the phone. Gilbert, who seems to be OK with any boundary-breaking, was careful to avoid breaking the same taboo. He changes the word to "African Americans," and then says "of course he didn't say 'African Americans.'" My son was the one who pointed that out to me.

Of course, this movie suffers from the same problem as any advocacy documentary. It's preaching to the choir. And the choir will love it. But people who are inclined to disagree with the point are not going to be convinced.