What makes things comic? Characters on stage act with intentions. They hold opinions, they clash, they fight, they love, they laugh. Nobody is comic a priori. Whether or not we find something funny depends on the circumstances – perhaps there is a punchline, a contradictory situation, an unforeseen turn of events, a plunge from heady heights to the depths of the banal. Or just somebody slipping on a banana skin. Whatever it is, it's the audience who decides whether or not it's funny. Comic events might take place on stage, but their impact occurs in the auditorium. One and the same event can be comic or tragic – it just depends on the context and how it is perceived. Both can even apply at the same time – such as when Leporello reads out Don Giovanni's list of lovers to Donna Elvira. He finds it funny, while her whole world collapses in tragedy and the audience is torn between the one and the other. There are many such scenes that are all the more tragic, the funnier they are (and vice versa).

Fundamentally, there are two ways of achieving a comic effect. The one demands continuous fireworks with a punchline every twenty seconds. That is the way of boulevard comedy. One shouldn't dismiss it lightly, for it demands superior ability and a honed technique of dropping punchlines nonchalantly, or of juggling opposites such as big and small, slow and quick, pathetic and banal – as if pulling the rug out from under someone who's dressed to the nines.

The other, deeper and more comprehensive type of comic effect lies in situations, conditions, the character of people and their relationships to each other, and in the thrust of the whole story. This is how the great comedies achieve their impact. In fact, every great comedy is a thwarted tragedy. The essence of comedy lies in the ‘lieto fine’, the happy end, whether real or imagined.