Rob Gilroy: Size Does Matter

Occasionally, when drafting these brilliantly sharp pieces of comic writing, I worry that they are a little too long.

More often than not, I’m just happy to have written anything. The deadline arrives with startling frequency every week and I find myself in the same position – desperately scratching at what’s left of my brain in order to drum up some guff to natter on about for a few paragraphs.

But sometimes, I write a lot. Too much, some might say.

Length is something that concerns me more and more these days. I lie awake at night, thinking about it. And it doesn’t just apply to my column, it extends to other things too.

Adverts seem longer than they used to; I’m increasingly having to plan my time around bathroom breaks, and films. Films are a lot longer than they used to be.

Obviously, when you’re young, impressionable and riddled with acne, films always feel long, especially James Bond ones, in the same way that five minute car journeys always felt like trekking across the Sahara (in a Renault Laguna).

With age, you look back and realise how distorted your view of time was. Except James Bond films. They really do last forever.

Yet it seems to be a current trend that most films last at least as long as a pretty successful relationship.

There have always been long films – I used to have a theory that films like The Godfather and The Godfather 2: Married to the Mob are only seen as classics because you deserve a medal of honour to actually get to the end of them.

I’ve only recently watched both Godfathers, and the reason for that is, even with my empty lifestyle, I don’t have six hours to spend watching two films.

That could be a day out at the seaside, or 18 episodes of The US Office.

Nevertheless, I can see why some films are long – Gone With The Wind, for example.

A chunk of that film is just setting up the bad weather plot, the middle section deals with the wind abducting the woman, and the rest of the film explores the psychological turmoil that comes from losing a loved one to a powerful gust.

So those films, I get. But Anchorman 2? Does it really need to be that long?

It was one of three recent films I watched at the weekend. The other two being American Hustle and The Wolf of Wall Street.

While they all had something to recommend them, you could easily have shaved an hour or so off each and had something much more potent.

All these films were classed as ‘comedies’ and most were nearly two and half hours long.

I’ve lost quite a lot of respect for modern American comedies because not only do they fail to raise a titter in my cheeks, but most last longer than the Gulf War.

I like Seth Rogan but even I don’t want to spend three hours watching him try out every alternate version of a ‘Your mum’ joke. It’s like a tedious, foul-mouthed Groundhog Day.

Comedies should be short and sweet. Like Danny DeVito on a sugar rush.

They say brevity is the soul of wit – I don’t know what that means but I agree with it wholeheartedly. Why aren’t modern comedies shorter?

One of the better comedies to come out of the old U.S of America was 21 Jump Street.

Granted, it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. It certainly wasn’t my Darjeeling when I first heard about it. A comic remake of an old 80s show. Great. What next? A dramatic reimagining of Different Strokes?

While 21 Jump Street still tipped the 1 hour 40 mark – it was notable for not only being much pacier than other comedies but for relying on actual jokes and a tight script, as opposed to hinging every scene on people ‘riffing’.

Better still; the UK’s Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa came in at 90 minutes and is all the stronger for it.

I think that’s partly the reason why sitcoms are so popular. They are short bursts of comedy, filled with characters, plots and ideas.

Comedy sits nicely in the 22-30 minute slot and that economy of time is something that films could take a lot more from.

I could be wrong, maybe there is a thirst for comedies of Ben Hur proportions but sometimes it’s nice to leave the audience wanting more.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learn writing this column, it’s that people do not want more of it.

See you next week.