On humor – Jackson Arn in The Forward:

‘Sometimes you revisit the humor of the past and come away gasping for oxygen. Evelyn Waugh? Dawn Powell? “Bringing Up Baby?” “Ninotchka?” “His Girl Friday?” Society has come a long way in the last couple of decades, but when I think of these examples, I doubt it’s gotten any funnier. Maroon me on a desert island with some Marx Brothers Blu-Rays and I might lose interest in getting rescued.
Then there are the times when you revisit the humor of the past and wonder what all the fuss was about. Lenny Bruce? Bob Hope? Johnny Carson? “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town?” “The Jerk?” Fran Lebowitz is still alive, I realize, but probably the kindest thing I can write about her is that she’s a venerable relic of an ancient, comedy-challenged civilization. Comedy is subjective, of course. Martin Scorsese, whose sense of humor I usually trust, thought Lebowitz was hilarious enough to merit 200 minutes of film, roughly the same amount he needed to explain what happened to Jimmy Hoffa.
All of which is to say: I have no idea why people find Neil Simon funny, but that’s just me. When I saw “Plaza Suite,” currently being revived on Broadway with real-life couple Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick in the starring roles, theatergoers hooted and sniggered from start to finish, and afterward they rose eagerly for their ovation while I shook my head in mute horror. Borscht-y humor is alive and thriving.’

(…)

‘Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that tight plaid pants, curly hair and dorky white-guy dancing are inherently funny. Why, then, is there so much vamping in Act II, as though we need to be reminded every 10 seconds that tight plaid pants, curly hair and dorky white-guy dancing are funny? Let the tight plaid pants, curly hair and dorky white-guy dancing speak for themselves! At the end of Act III, after the mother and father of the bride have expended much energy trying to convince their daughter to go through with the wedding, the groom sets her right with two words: “Cool it!” — does the father really need to say, “He says two words and she comes out!”? I’ll never understand, which kind of annoys me. But I also kind of enjoy not understanding. It reminds me what my own sense of humor is like — all the Groucho and Matt Groening and Monty Python and Nathan Fielder and “Tim and Eric” and “Key & Peele” and “Eastbound & Down” coursing through my bloodstream, keeping me from clapping for this play. Feeling cheerfully kvetchy about Neil Simon is a very Neil Simon way to feel, anyway. Maybe, deep down, I’m a true fan.’

Read the review here.

I remember seeing a Neil Simon play in Amsterdam somewhere in the eighties, it must have been ‘The Prisoner of Second Avenue’. I liked it a lot, but I was 14 or 15, I liked all theater. Everything was new for me, especially Neil Simon.

Then I largely forgot about Neil Simon, although he is mentioned a few times in Mel Brooks’ biography.

Borscht-y humor has never left us. It’s not exactly my kind of humor (too American-Jewish) but on the other hand I will never forget the rage I got to see in ‘The Prisoner of Second Avenue’ thirty years ago or so.

The man and his rage. Nowadays this is labeled toxic masculinity – a few decades ago it was comedy. See also: Louis de Funès.
I believe we are just replacing toxicants, but who wants to live like a nihilist?