As I chuckled my way through the very funny animated series of Asterix And Obelix – The Big Fight on Netflix, I couldn’t help but wonder why a global streamer like Netflix would invest so much money on something that, to me, was completely untranslatable French humour.
I guess I would have to watch the dubbed English version to find out – or perhaps the IP is strong enough to stand on its own without the jokes. But it made me think about what’s funny where, and why.
Some types of humour just click no matter where you’re from. Take La Grande Vadrouille, for example-a French film about British and French characters bumbling their way through Nazi-occupied Paris. It’s been a huge hit not just in France but internationally, thanks to its clever physical comedy and universal themes of misunderstandings and unlikely friendships. Over in the UK, Mr. Bean is another perfect example. Rowan Atkinson’s mostly wordless slapstick is easy to get and funny for everyone, no matter what language you speak. And then there’s Airplane!, the American spoof whose wild, absurd humour has earned it a cult following all over the world. These shows and films prove that when comedy taps into physical gags and shared human moments, it can break down any language barrier.
French, Anglo-Saxon, and American Humour: A World Apart
But some laughs are more culturally specific. In France, humour often hinges on delivery and absurdity. Shows like La Flamme and films like Les Nouvelles Aventures d’Aladin thrive on parody, wordplay, and theatricality. Take the deadpan monologue of the scribe in Astérix et Obélix: Mission Cléopâtre: it’s not just what’s said, but how it’s said, packed with cultural references and subtle irony.
Across the Channel, British humour leans into self-deprecation, history, and wit. Horrible Histories brilliantly transforms the gory and bizarre moments of British history into sketches that educate and entertain. Similarly, Upstart Crow revels in wordplay and the frustrations of genius, all delivered with a whingey, distinctly English charm. Upstart Crow is a favourite show of mine and I have tried to convert French friends, with no success at all. The jokes, the tone, the references, are all too specific.
British humour, like French humour, can also be very dark – and sometimes downright offensive, something that can be a big barrier. As a movie like Four Lions demonstrates, there is very little that the Brits won’t laugh at, including suicide bombers. In France, films like Delicatessen or the cult Le Père Noël est une Ordure go very far in what you can laugh at.
American humour, as seen in iconic family-friendly sitcoms like Friends, Seinfeld, and Cheers, is distinguished by its reliance on sharp one-liners, observational comedy rooted in everyday life, and carefully structured comedic timing. The jokes are direct, accessible, and often designed for mass appeal, emphasising entertainment and relatability over provocation.
Overall, American sitcom humour is highly formatted, prioritising feel-good narratives and character-driven gags, and typically avoids the kind of provocative or subversive material more common in European comedy.
Beyond the Anglo-Saxon World: South America, Africa, and Japan
Humour in South America is vibrant and diverse, rooted in social satire, physical comedy, and everyday absurdities. Brazilian comedies mix slapstick with sharp social commentary, while Argentinian humour often plays with irony and national quirks.
Africa’s comedic tradition is equally rich. From the oral storytelling of West African griots to the stand-up scenes of Lagos and Johannesburg, African humour blends satire, parody, and social critique. Comedians like Trevor Noah adapt their material to different audiences, illustrating how humour shifts across cultural contexts. In many African countries, comedy serves as a tool for resilience and resistance, critiquing authority and processing social change.
Japanese humour offers yet another fascinating dimension. Shows like Gaki No Tsukai are famous for their physical, slapstick comedy-elaborate punishment games and over-the-top reactions that transcend language barriers. Manzai, the classic Japanese double act, relies on timing, rhythm, and physical cues as much as words. This style is instantly accessible, much like Mr. Bean, which has made generations laugh without a single punchline needing translation.
What Happens in the Brain When We Laugh?
Recent neuroscience research reveals that different types of humour actually light up different areas of the brain. For example, visual humour (like sight gags) activates high-level visual areas, while language-based jokes engage classic language regions. Despite these differences, both types of humour activate a shared network, including the amygdala and midbrain, responsible for the euphoric, rewarding feeling we get from a good laugh.
Humour is more than just a cognitive puzzle; it’s also deeply emotional. Brain imaging studies show that appreciating humour-whether it’s a sarcastic line, a punchline, or a physical gag-lights up areas associated with both advanced thinking and emotional reward, such as the ventromedial prefrontal cortex and bilateral amygdala. This helps explain why humour feels so good and why it’s so valued in social life..
The Pleasure of Discovering New Humour
Discovering a new style of humour is like unlocking a fresh way to see – and laugh at – the world. There’s a thrill in watching La Flamme or Aladin and appreciating French parody and absurdity, or in enjoying the relentless wordplay of Horrible Histories in the UK. Then there’s the razor-sharp observational humour of Seinfeld or the surreal rapid-fire gags of Airplane! in America. Each style offers a unique flavour, rewarding once you crack the cultural code.
Social media has supercharged this cross-cultural exchange. Platforms like TikTok and Instagram Reels serve up bite-sized sketches and memes from around the globe, making it easier than ever to discover a Brazilian parody, a South African skit, or a British meme that suddenly goes viral worldwide. The algorithm doesn’t care about borders-it cares about what makes us laugh. This instant, global sharing exposes us to new comedic rhythms, references, and even physical comedy traditions that don’t rely on language.
There’s something deeply satisfying about the moment you “get” a joke from another culture. It’s a small victory-a sign you’ve tuned into a different wavelength. And in a world where TikTok can turn a Japanese prank or a South African sketch into a global phenomenon overnight, the boundaries of what’s “funny” are wider-and more exciting-than ever.
So, “funny how?” Maybe the real answer is: funny everywhere, if you’re willing to look.
Claire Tavernier 