The rest of the world has probably already seen this film, but it only kicks off its NL release tonight, seemingly only in the one cinema (Kriterion) in Amsterdam. But I did some poshified writing about it for the Amsterdam Weekly anyway, so here are the edited results if you’re still interested…

Heard the one about the man who walks into a talent agency? He says, ‘I’ve got an amazing family act for you.’ In his description of the fantabulous show he unleashes every swear word you’ve ever heard, and describes acts that trample on every taboo, shattering your already fragile morals. The agent looks horrified, but he can’t help asking the name of the act.

With a showbiz flourish, the man replies, ‘The Aristocrats!’

Cut down to its basic ingredients, it has to be one of the worst jokes ever: there are knock-knock and chicken jokes with sharper twists. So, could this one joke be worth a 90-minute movie?

Well, that would be missing the point a bit. You see The Aristocrats is a mainstay in the comedy world. It’s an in-joke, passed from comedian to comedian since vaudeville days, and it’s usually only performed by comedians for comedians because it’s so rude it would close down television networks and make paying audiences walk out. Yet when it’s told correctly, it will have you laughing out loud.

This documentary, directed by comedians Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette, attempts to explore the history and science of the joke’s performance, and tries to unlock the secrets of its success.

Promising 100 retellings by world famous–although primarily American–comics, it’s hard not to expect something special–especially given the kafuffle that’s preceded its release around the world, so far. Unfortunately, the film itself almost blows it right off the starting blocks. Immediately bombarding viewers with machine-gun swearing, vulgarity, bestiality, incest and paedophilia makes the statement that talking dirty just for the sake of it can be–but isn’t necessarily–funny. And in these days of desensitisation anyway, the things that should be shocking no longer are.

The editing makes things worse, leaving you feeling dizzy and nauseous with its rapid cuts. We see comedians finishing each other’s sentences and natural pauses removed. The introduction–which dives straight into the mystique and structure of the joke–is underwhelming; even a key opening recital by comedy legend George Carlin can only manage small laughs. At least his personal insights prove more entertaining.

Filmed on low-tech handheld cameras backstage at gigs, in restaurants, on streets, beaches and even in a public toilet, there’s absolutely no respite as comedians come and go. Some like Carlin, Robin Williams and Paul Reiser are revisited throughout the duration of the film, offering new insights, although each treading a lot of the same ground, while others vanish in a flash, managing only a basic recital of their favourite swear words.

But the film does improve. Like the joke itself, which requires momentum to build and build, The Aristocrats gets to a point where constant clock-watching becomes unnecessary, when the vulgarities drop, making way for some genuinely funny, bolder and more imaginative interpretations.

There are stand-out moments: Billy the Mime’s twisted pornographic comedy in front of an unsuspecting audience of passers-by; Eric Meade recreating the entire story in the form of a hilarious card trick; Penn & Teller adding their usual form of chaotic magic; Sarah Silverman turning the joke on its head to play the role of the daughter in the family act and South Park’s creators providing a naive animated version by Cartman.

Among all this, the editorial staff of The Onion debate the best techniques for modernising the joke and maintaining its shock value, while loudmouth Jewish comic Gilbert Gottfried demonstrates the difference environment can make. Sitting alone in a boardroom shouting, his style is nothing short of painful. Stuck onstage in front of a prickly New York audience just weeks after the September 11 attack, he uses the joke as an offensive defence, while his fellow comics roll around on the floor in hysterics and it becomes easier to comprehend the joke’s full power.

By the end, it’s hard not to come away thinking you should have laughed more, especially after enduring almost 10 minutes of credits accompanied by shots of each comedian breaking down in laughter. It’s worth remembering, though, that this is a documentary, not a scripted laugh-a-minute farce.

While there is a recurring thought that it’s a bad idea to tear apart and analyse a single joke for an hour-and-a-half, if The Aristocrats has one genuinely-worthwhile trait, that’s being able to look into the eyes of comics, delving into their mental processes as they improvise as fast as their tongue can wrap around the words. Only a select few in the film show the ability to be true masters of comedy. They serve an ultimate reminder to the rest of the bunch–words on their own aren’t funny, but layer them correctly and anything is possible.