deadpan to pan the man

There was this deceptive approximation of 'personality' that emerged and that was embellished by the postmodern construction. It was overzealous to please, to be clever, to stand out. A guise of artifice that masked us from being considered 'boring'. In recent years, springing from post 9-11 undercurrent, there's been a segue, a reaction into deadpan humor. To name drop: Apatow, Steve Carrell, Will Ferrell, and perhaps, a sign that deadpan has gone its course, Flight of the Condors , a show so indulgent in deadpan it's plain lazy (I do enjoy the music video segments though. The Bowie one was memorable).

Deadpan reflected post 9-11, dissensitized, drained, numb, and more tellingly, fed up with spiteful-sarcasm overload. Consider even the semiotics of the term itself. But deadpan is giving way to true sincerity, comedy giving way to its truer form, dramedy. It's made possible a transition to a sense of humor where we laugh at our own jokes, at the funny things we say and do. Not have be loud or obnoxious to have our jokes appreciated. To be confident in our distinct comedic senses. To laugh at each other for our silly behavioral moments and idiosyncrasies, and not try to trump them with sarcastic rebuttals. Which are cheap and bland anyways.

Steve Carell, at his best, is a pioneer toward the comedic sincere. Dan in Real Life glimpses into this potential. Unfortunately, the marketing, especially the trailers, were unable to showcase the subtlety, tenderness, and charm of the film.

Pan is alive. Peter that is. Consider the comedic giants that arose in the 80s (Chevy, Murray, Murphy), and those of today (Carell, Ferrell). The prior, smartasses. The latter, you might say, dumbasses, but more specifically, naive, mislead, filled with childlike wonderment waiting to escape from this postmodern construct of 'adult'. Recommendations: Forster-Helm's Stranger Than Fiction, McKay-Ferrell's Talladega Nights.

Pan is still alive. He never left.