If you’re performing any form of comedy, you may play a role that seems, on the surface, not to have any jokes. In fact, all you do is talk about other people’s jokes. What gives?
Well, you might just be playing the straight man. And if you’re feeling disappointed about not adding to the comedy, analyze it closer. You will find tons of function—and joy—in this part.
Here is everything you need to know.
Think about comedy scenes as having two fundamental forces: the unusual behavior and the straight behavior. Each is represented by one, or several, characters. The unusual character is, obviously, the one whose behavior generates comedic energy.
The other half? That’s the straight character, whose behavior brings about the tension of the scene. Tension is essential in every genre, but especially in comedy, where laughs are found in the push-pull between absurdity and reason. Punch lines are, after all, a surprise.
So, the straight man represents order, societal norms, and the plainspoken reality of the scene even as it’s being twisted by the unusual character. They ground things so the comedic elements can bounce up again.
Yes, and? How to Get Better at Improv in 7 Steps A brief note on vernacular: “Straight man” is, obviously, a limiting term on its face, but one that’s stuck around and been adapted to any performer, regardless of gender or sexual identity. Other, more inclusive terms that come up in comedy training include “voice of reason” (as in, they give a voice to common sense), “audience surrogate” (as in, they say what the audience is thinking), and “foil” (as in, a contrasting force that helps the other performer look great).
Why do we need a straight man?
The straight man is the force that brings us down to earth. To paraphrase Brad Bird’s “The Incredibles,” if everyone’s unusual, no one is. There are obviously lots of successful comedy scenes in which everyone is an absurd character—but even then, some kind of order must be spoken aloud to stop the energy from floating into intangibility or confusion. A perfect example is this post-fight scene from Adam McKay’s “Anchorman,” where our fools realize just how foolish they’ve been.
We want the straight man to establish our base reality, and then to keep reminding the audience of the way things “should” be working. Without this necessary force, a comedy scene will feel too flimsy, too quickly.
John Cleese on ‘Monty Python’s Flying Circus’—Dead Parrot
This classic “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” sketch is an example of the straight man generating nearly all of the laughter in the scene. It works because of Cleese’s simple, truthful statements—the friggin’ bird is dead—in the face of unrelenting absurdity.
Bea Arthur on ‘The Golden Girls’
In every episode of “The Golden Girls,” Arthur’s Dorothy Zbornak puts on a clinic in voicing reason, volleying her unusual friends’ behaviors with immediacy. It’s the perfect combination of caring deeply for your social circle and expressing unfiltered frustration.
Will Ferrell on ‘Saturday Night Live’—Celebrity Jeopardy!
He normally plays the unusual character, but Ferrell presented a perfect straight performance any time “Saturday Night Live” brought out a “Celebrity Jeopardy!” sketch. As Alex Trebek, his work is simple, understandable, and effective: Just keep the game show normal while everyone tries to ruin it.
Jason Bateman on ‘Arrested Development’
As the center of the show’s ludicrous family, Bateman’s Michael Bluth is the glue that holds the circus of the “Arrested Development” ensemble in place. Look to Ron Howard’s introductory voiceover as the straight man’s motto: he has “no choice but to keep them all together.”
Tina Fey on ‘30 Rock’
Another central force surrounded by lunatics, Fey’s Liz Lemon cares deeply about her motivations and knows exactly when and how to label the absurdities surrounding her.
Beck Bennett and Kate McKinnon on ‘Saturday Night Live’—David S. Pumpkins
Tom Hanks is very fun to watch as David S. Pumpkins in this modern “SNL” classic. But note that when the audience really pops is every time Beck Bennett or Kate McKinnon struggles to make sense of the nonsensical. The straight man speaks for the audience—a high honor.
Tim Robinson on “I Think You Should Leave” - Darmine Doggy Door
Here’s proof that “straight man” doesn’t automatically mean “low energy.” Sketch comedy’s greatest yeller, Tim Robinson, plays a seemingly normal man whose sense of the world is rapidly unraveling because of a weird thing that happened. It’s a master class in how a straight man can be funny, relatable, and essential.
Maintain personal stakes
A straight man can too easily fall into ironic detachment, a figure that steps outside of the comedy to merely point out how weird it is. This style of play deflates the scene and removes the visceral effect you want.
Instead, make sure to stay engaged by giving the character personal stakes. They care deeply about the person in front of them. The straight man is not trying to spike the ball in the unusual character’s face or pummel them into submission. They’re trying to continue the rally by understanding why the unusual character is playing the game in the first place—and caring is an intuitive leader to understanding. Which leads us to…
Try curiosity until it fails
It’s tempting to default to a confrontational energy as the straight man; to overplay frustration or anger. But this leads to one-sided, abrasive, and even mean-spirited scenes.
Instead, start from a place of curiosity, empathy, and positivity. Human beings seek pleasure and avoid pain. So, start with your straight man desiring a positive outcome with the unusual character. If you play from a place of construction, not destruction, you will find surprise and nuance along the way.
However, the moment this curiosity tactic fails, shift your gears into frustration. This works because it's grounded in the positive. It’s more relatable to an audience because they know you tried your absolute best to keep things on the rails.
Remember the order of obviousness
This is especially helpful in performing improv or sketch: Call out the unusual behaviors by order of obviousness.
Let’s say you’re playing a scene where a character wants to marry a piece of chewing gum (perfect example, I know). If your straight man begins with this callout—“But it’s cinnamon gum! Isn’t that too spicy?”—then you are moving past many more obvious unreasonable elements. Thus, you are leaving your audience behind and unmooring your scene partner.
To move past the most obvious, unusual thing is to tacitly admit that the unusual behavior is accepted. In this example, calling out the absurdity of cinnamon gum implies that marrying gum is reasonable, just not cinnamon. This is the opposite of what we want our straight man to do.
Instead, go for the most obvious, low-hanging fruit, and work your way up. In this case, that would probably be: “You cannot marry chewing gum! It’s an inanimate object!”