【Written by Jill Schuck】

Developed by intellectuals like Sigmund Freud and Herbert Spencer, Relief Theory stands as one of the three classic theories of humor. Relief Theory, which views laughter “as an outlet for psychic…energy”,¹ applies to both old and contemporary models of comedy. As Sophie Davies highlights in her article, “Fleabag and Chewing Gum: Breaking the Fourth Wall on the Small Screen,” the first-person narrative in the television show Fleabag exemplifies Relief Theory. While I concur with Davies’ point that “Fleabag lets [the viewer] into the inner workings of her mind”,² I would argue against the show supporting Relief Theory. As an “unwilling observer”³ of Fleabag’s life, the audience infrequently feels emotionally liberated. In actuality, we feel exhausted having to act both as spectators and confidants in Fleabag’s life. Fleabag demands too much of the audience for it to serve as an escape from our own real suffering.  

While Fleabag aims to make its audience laugh, it also forces them to empathize with the titular protagonist. As I previously mentioned, Fleabag’s constant pandering to the camera allows the viewer “into the inner workings of her mind”⁴. Whether through her physicality (narrowed eyes, mischievous grins) or her words (“I hate myself”⁵), Fleabag vocalizes her thoughts to us. Though a new intimacy exists between the comic and the spectator, breaking  

the fourth wall can be equally as distancing. Fleabag’s direct references to the viewer gives them no other choice than to listen to and commiserate with her. However, several mistakes Fleabag makes are undeserving of our sympathy. Fleabag’s affair with Boo’s boyfriend, for instance, alienates us from her. Although Fleabag’s stepmother may be insufferable, we hesitate to commend Fleabag for stealing her sculpture. Still, as the audience is “the closest thing Fleabag has to a confidant,”⁶ we must be in perpetual agreement with her actions.  

In order to fully understand the relationship between first-person narratives and comedic release, we must consider who––the audience or the comic––gains liberation. Regarding Fleabag, the comic relies on fourth wall breaks for the sake of her own release. As I touched on in the previous paragraph, Fleabag is contingent on the viewer as a confidant. Fleabag habitually projects her feelings, whether they be self-consciousness or sarcasm, onto us. Evidently, Relief Theory affects her more than us. In congruence with Relief Theory, Fleabag “comically acknowledges”⁷ the bizarre happenings in her life and shares them with us. Breaking the fourth wall is therefore a “release valve”⁸ for Fleabag, who uses the technique to diffuse the awkwardness around her. We do not receive the same satisfaction. Seeing as this is Fleabag’s show, and she recognizes herself as the main character, the audience is there to serve her. Without us, Fleabag has no one she can trust with her emotional baggage.  

Clearly, the audience’s forced companionship with Fleabag is not as liberating for us as it is for her. Fleabag’s dependency on the viewer creates an added pressure for us. In Season Two, Episode Two, we see that Fleabag does not have the same trust in an actual therapist than in the viewer. Here, Fleabag outwardly lies to her therapist (such as saying that she and her family “get along well”⁹), expresses frustration (“I don’t need to be analyzed…”), and continues to look to us for comfort. Since Fleabag refuses to seek legitimate help, we have to guide Fleabag through her obstacles. As mere viewers we are limited in our capabilities to aid Fleabag. In contrast to Relief Theory, Fleabag expects us to provide relief rather than receive it. We gain little pleasure in “helping” Fleabag, as our efforts are ultimately futile.   

Whereas Relief Theory seems inapplicable to us and Fleabag, Berthold Brecht’s theory of Verfremdung is conspicuous. Rather than inspiring empathy within the audience, Verfremdung estranges us from the comic. In accordance with Verfremdung, Fleabag undertakes a “psychological operation”¹⁰ to distance the spectator from the protagonist. Fleabag’s frequent nods to the audience allow us to examine her at a personal level. Perceiving us as an imagery presence, Fleabag feels free to confide in us. Consequently, the viewer becomes aware of their position: we are only that—a viewer—and not an active role in Fleabag’s life. In spite of Fleabag’s reliance on the audience, we are not always willing or able to provide her with the support she seeks. While we may not condone all of Fleabag’s actions, we can, from a distance, analyze and understand her behavior. The effect of Fleabag breaking the fourth wall is not release, but realization. Now that we have a deep recognition for who Fleabag is, we do not find her mistakes humorous or endearing. Instead, we begin to pity her. No one can help Fleabag but herself.

Just as Fleabag disenfranchises the viewer, the show also seeks to embarrass us. Both the audience and the comic are “left with a sense of our own, real damage”¹¹. To further deny us liberation, Fleabag forces its audience to “become an unwilling observer” of Fleabag’s “own, real damage.” Though we act as Fleabag’s confidants, we are wholly ineffective in our role. All that the audience can do is “unwillingly observe” the damage Fleabag inflicts. In some scenarios, Fleabag’s shame is cathartic. We feel free to laugh at smaller faults, like Fleabag “surprising” Harry with a steak knife. But as Fleabag’s mistakes escalate to dangerous heights, we no longer find the humor in them. Fleabag’s betrayal towards Boo is one of such instances that demands our discomfort rather than our amusement. Insteading of laughing at Fleabag’s oversight, we carry the burden of her remorse. Unlike Relief Theory, in which “our pent-up psychic energy…is relieved”¹², our “pent-up psychic energy” fuses with that of Fleabag. Now we have additional “pent-up psychic energy” in need of relieving. We can then construe embarrassment as the antithesis to release, forcing the viewer to bear Fleabag’s guilt.  

To reiterate Gray’s point, Fleabag’s embarrassment often afflicts the viewer with “a sense of guilt…a real physical sensation”¹³. Towards the end of the series, embarrassment becomes two-sided. Our relationship with Fleabag deteriorates, where she now feels humiliated by our presence. I refer specifically to the scene in Season Two, Episode Three, when the priest witnesses Fleabag breaking the fourth wall. Fleabag denies having spoken to us, casting us a look of mortification. Overcome with embarrassment, Fleabag stops addressing the audience whenever she and the priest are together. Fleabag’s humiliation places both herself and the viewer in a distressing state. We now question what our role in the show is, if not as Fleabag’s confidants. The lack of Relief Theory in Fleabag becomes more discernible, with both the comic and the audiences’ psychic energy left unalleviated. Fleabag’s decision to abandon the viewer in the finale underlines her embarrassment, as well as her search for release. Fleabag walking away from the camera and shaking her head indicates that she has outgrown us. We have always been a childish fantasy for her, of which she no longer needs. Since we have become the sources of her embarrassment, Fleabag attempts to liberate herself from us here.  

Though Fleabag appeals to the audience for sympathy, breaking the fourth wall requires her to bear everything. As a result, the first-person narrative often unsettles Fleabag rather than relieves her. At times, Fleabag does not want to make herself vulnerable to the viewer. Boo’s story is one of the most devastating secrets Fleabag keeps from us. One scene in Season One, Episode Six even reveals Fleabag attempting to run from the camera when confronted about Boo’s past. All efforts of escape are fruitless, as the first person narrative urges Fleabag to confess everything to us. Not even Fleabag has the freedom to control her own story. Only in the final moments of the show, when Fleabag distances herself from the camera, does she earn her freedom. 

Technically speaking, fourth wall breaks are liberating. The physical act of breaking the fourth wall challenges the confines of comedy. While the comedian can now confide more intimately with the audience, the viewer is placed in an unsettling, estranged position. Though we are mere spectators, we must offer relief to the comic. In Fleabag’s case, art is by no means an escape from reality. Fleabag demands more action from us than from the characters themselves.  

Bibliography 

Brecht, Berthold, ‘Short Description of a New Technique of Acting That Produces a  

Verfremdung Effect’ (London, England: Methuen, 1940) 

Critchley, Simon, On Humor (Taylor and Francis Group, 2002) 

​​Davies, Sophie, ‘Fleabag and Chewing Gum: Breaking the Fourth Wall on the Small Screen’,  

Culturised, 25 August 2017 

Fleabag, dir. by Harry Bradbeer, prod. by Lydia Hampson (Two Brothers Pictures, 2016) 

Freud, Sigmund, The Philosophy of Laughter and Humor, ed. John Morreall (Albany: State  

University of New York Press, 1987), pp. 111-116 

Gray, Frances, ‘Privacy, Embarrassment and Social Power: British Sitcom’, in Beyond a Joke:

The Limits of Humour, eds. Sharon Lockyer and Michael Pickering (Basingstoke:  

Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), pp. 146-161