While certainly not of the same mindset as Slavoj Zizek or Paul Krassner, who regarded laugh tracks as having a kind of ‘fascist’ power and influence over audiences, before this weeks reading I was definitely in the anti-laugh track camp. While I grew up with sitcoms that heavily relied on laugh tracks such as ‘Friends’ or ‘The Nanny’, all my favorite comedies are from the recent generic shift away from the laugh track, noticeably ‘Parks and Rec’ and ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’. When I rewatched old episodes of my childhood classics, instead of finding the disembodied laughter re-assuring and conducive to a comedic atmosphere, I sometimes found it jarring instead. Online videos of these old shows with the laugh track removed are fairly common and invite people to view the laughter as a crutch for jokes that seem to fall flat without it.

What I found so interesting about this reading was the history the live studio for comedies came from, the idea that nobody would laugh if there weren’t people to laugh along with. As soon as this idea was introduced it rang true for me, I have been to live comedy shows and been in stitches laughing along with the audience, whereas when I watch even my all-time favourite comedians at home, laughs are rare and it’s more likely my reaction will be a quick exhale through the nose. Now I’m not sure whether the original laugh track actually did conduce people to laugh out loud at home in their living rooms along with the audience, as personally, I find myself lol-ing equally to Netflix recordings of stand up comedians (which include the reactions and laughter of the audience) and my favourite comedic podcasts, which are just people talking amongst themselves with no laugh track. I am curious to know if this has been true throughout the history of television or whether it is due to me growing up in a time when the laugh track is starting to become outdated and we are experiencing a generic shift away from it.

The description of Douglass’s machine as ‘ a machine that could easily call up a series of chuckles and weave them together to create a sonically rich tapestry of laughter’ intrigued me as I am personally very interested in Foley work and this sounds similar to exercises I have done in the past. When creating convincing soundbites multiple layers are often needed and when the reading noted that there were different options for types of laughter and duration it made me wonder whether Douglass had simply recorded enough audience reactions over the course of his career working on ‘I Love Lucy’ that he had a plethora to pick from to suit any need, or whether he had actually mixed together parts of audiences reactions and even individual laughs to create his options.

I can certainly say that knowing the historical context of the laugh track and the live studio audience has changed my perspective, and while I still prefer my shows with fast-paced dialogue without pausing for laughs, I will acknowledge that the laugh track is a fascinating part of television history that still has a place in modern television.