Before I could reply and express my disgust, we were assaulted by terrible sounds from above, the building shook and, incredibly enough, the ceiling proceeded to cave in. A large airship (zeppelin, blimp, balloon kind) shaped like Yoda’s head crashed through the roof and brought the entire hospital down around us. Assessing the scene of mass destruction surrounding me I started to laugh, first nervously (I was in shock) and then raucously, howling out to the heavens (from whence the fallen Yoda came) with great mirth and hysterical glee. Don’t condemn me for being callous, cruel and tasteless. If you’d have been there the day of the Great Jedi Dirigible Disaster you’d understand my instant reaction and the enlightened viewpoint I’ve acquired as a result of it. What I realised is that the old amputee with the awful breath and the infectious disease was right. It was a perfect moment of someone making a point and then having it illustrated by external factors in dramatic style with explosive irony. If you don’t laugh at Death, he’ll beguile you with his ice cold eyes and stark, dread presence, then challenge you to a game of chess that you have no hope of winning. If you’ve seen The Seventh Seal you’ll know exactly what I mean – no one can checkmate the Reaper, and Bill and Ted were wise to take him on at Battleship and Twister instead. If you can’t laugh at Death, sink his battleship, remind him how inflexible he is, and then invite him to play bass in your metal band to cheer him up. Of course, His Deathness might not be anything like the dude who rocks out with the Wyld Stallyns in Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (“Get down with your bad self!”) and if that’s the case, put away the board games, pull open a tin of canned laughter and chuckle mindlessly at the morbid one. Dance across the hilltops and sing along to the catchy tunes that Eric Idle is chirruping in the background and you’ll have an absolute blast – way more fun than you would have had if you dwelt on the pathos and pain of your pathetically short life. There’s wisdom in the lyrics “Always look on the bright side of death, just before you draw your terminal breath” as uttered by Idle’s ultra-happy crucifixion victim at Life Of Brian’s climax. It’s a good attitude to have, even if you’re not on the verge of joining the choir invisible, and we should always regard our mortality with a sense of humour and crack a wry smile. If we don’t, the end result is disquieting taboos and an intense dread of death, which distracts from living in the present (where you are, unless you’re a zombie, still alive). Death’s predestined and must be accepted, so we may as well accept it light-heartedly. I know that I’d personally rather fill the black void of oblivion with the sound of resounding laughter than float in front of it feeling depressed, living out the finite time with a miserable grimace perpetually plaguing my person. This is why I totally approve of fresh theatrical release 50/50, which is billed as a ‘cancer comedy’ and based on the true-life illness of writer Paul Reiser. His off-screen best buddy Seth Rogen is acting and Reiser is being channelled by the great Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who I’ve had a great affinity with ever since I saw him get repeatedly beaten up in new school noir flick Brick. What’s promised in the movie, originally titled I’m With Cancer, is semi-autobiographical drama drawn from the screenwriter’s actual experience, except it’s touched with the gags, profanity and gross out matter that makes up the kind of comedies Seth Rogen is most renowned for. This bromantic feature thus sounds a lot more appealing and definitely a hell of a lot funnier than, say, Beaches. I’d rather see Rogen counteractively slap a stupid smile all over Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s 50 per cent chance of survival than watch Bette Midler warble Wind Beneath My Wings at best friend Barbara Hershey’s terminal cancer diagnosis. It’s not going to cure cancer, make you invincible or save you from the full force of chemotherapy, but I do believe that laughter is the best medicine. I have faith in this particular homeopathic remedy, and shall apply it to all future ailments, starting with this leprous growth I’ve developed after close contact with that ill-fated old man. The growth is shaped like Admiral Ackbar. “Well, you’ve gotta laugh ain’t’cha?” You can reach James on his Twitter feed here, see his film cartoons here and more sketches here. Follow Den Of Geek on Twitter right here. And be our Facebook chum here.
