By CHRIS VOGNAR

By CHRIS VOGNAR
DALLAS MORNING NEWS
NE OF THE MOST PAINFUL scenes in the superb new comedy "Sideways" comes when the downtrodden hero, Miles (Paul Giamatti), is told that his ex-wife has remarried. Giamatti's pliable face, which naturally veers toward distress, becomes a picture of abject sorrow. But before you can fully register the moment, it switches course. Miles grabs a bottle of wine and starts chugging as he runs down a steep hill, his buddy Jack in pursuit. We've gone from deep pathos to slapstick in the blink of an eye.
It's the kind of emotionally complex moment with which most comedies simply can't be bothered. "Sideways" writer/director Alexander Payne and his writing partner, Jim Taylor, are among a lonely breed of filmmakers who want you to laugh and think at the same time.
"Nothing ever seems to be a set-up joke for them," says Thomas Hayden Church, who turns in the performance of his career as Jack. "The gags are so cleverly written and executed, you don't see them coming. And they always manage to fit in moments that are so hilarious, but heartbreaking."
Payne and Taylor aren't alone in their willingness to evoke such bygone bittersweet comedy masters as Billy Wilder, Preston Sturges and Ernst Lubitsch. Other heady yuksters of today include David O. Russell, whose current film, "I u Huckabees," revolves around spiritual and existential crises; Todd Solondz, whose upcoming "Palindromes" continues an infamous spate of dark humor; and Dylan Kidd, whose May/September romance "p.s." opened last month.
But these films are far outnumbered -- and generally overshadowed at the box office -- by the likes of "Along Came Polly," "Eurotrip," "Dodgeball" and "Without a Paddle." Like most Hollywood product, this silly bunch is aimed at teen audiences with disposable income. And they tend to share reality TV's fascination with easy humiliation -- think any of Ben Stiller's recent outings.
Laughter is the key
"The important thing is the nature of this laughter, and what we're laughing at," says Solondz, whose films have evoked outrage with characters including a pedophile and a serial killer. "It could be a laughter that says, 'Ah, I recognize that, I've been there,' or you could laugh out of a lightheaded frivolity, a lightly satirical tone.
"However, if you find yourself laughing at someone in a way that says, 'Oh, look at her, she's fat,' or, 'He's funny-looking,' then it's a much more troubling kind of response."
Not that all comedy should aspire to highbrow status. Greats such as the Marx Brothers and W.C. Fields, both commemorated in deluxe new DVD sets, were quick and witty but also accessible and anarchic. Margaret Dumont was little more than a verbal punching bag for the Marx boys, who took every opportunity to give her their best shots. Even when the Marx Brothers took on political satire, as in "Duck Soup," there was something sublimely trivial and superfluous about the whole affair.
But the movie humor of the '30s, which has been matched in later eras by the likes of Blake Edwards and Woody Allen, was always verbally and physically dexterous. When it was stupid, it was still smart, and it was rarely gross for the sake of being gross, a trend that really took off in the wake of two great and highly successful comedies: 1978's "Animal House" and 1998's "There's Something About Mary."
"Dodgeball" can be counted among "Mary's" lesser comic offspring. It's a plucky underdog story that broke the $100 million mark at the box office this summer. It boasts fine comic performances from Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Rip Torn and Stephen Root. But it also insists on aiming low. In his commentary track, writer/director Rawson Marshall Thurber uses bracing bluntness in assessing a gross-out gag involving an overweight woman: "This is a blatant attempt at the lowest common denominator possible."
Sentimentality
"Dodgeball" also falls into a different sort of market-driven comedy trap: the sentimental ending that's supposed to make up for all the nastiness that came before.
"I hate it when they have a funny lead actor, and two-thirds of the movie is a vehicle, and then it needs to tie up very sweetly and it becomes very sentimental and the guy learns lessons, or some [stuff] like that," says Payne, whose previous films include "Election" and "About Schmidt."
Payne has built a highly respected body of work by staking out the intersection between comedy and tragedy. And he takes his comedy very seriously: "Sideways" boasts some of the year's most gut-busting laughs, including one involving a large naked man chasing after a car.
But these moments work largely because the rest of the film is grounded in a kind of emotional truth and complexity that can't be faked.
"A lot of things are funny because they're so sad at first, and vice versa," says Payne. "For me, there's an inherent dark side to comedy, and there's a painful side to the kind of stuff that I'm attracted to doing. Then again, I'm the first one to want to watch the Marx Brothers, or Peter Sellers in "The Party," which is essentially a silent comedy."
Worthy of admiration
Payne observes that the most famous mixture of pathos and comedy comes from the silent era: the final scene of "City Lights," in which Chaplin's Little Tramp is reunited with his blind waif. "It's a towering achievement," says Payne.
But Payne, known as a great film student as much as a great filmmaker, isn't all about the high comedy. Just ask him which comic filmmaker he admires today.
"Jay Roach is like an old-fashioned comedy director, and to me, some of the funniest movies being made these days are the 'Austin Powers' movies," says Payne. "They come from an old tradition where plot doesn't matter, and who cares what's going on? Keep the camera looking at Mike Myers, and don't cut away when he does the weird stuff. That's what you're there for. Whatever bogus story there is exists to get to the moments where he's spinning off."
But at the end of the day, the smartest comedy around isn't at the movies. It's on TV, where Jon Stewart, "The Simpsons," "Arrested Development," Ali G, Dave Chappelle and "South Park" draw subversive laughter on a regular basis.
"What's thriving right now is satire," says Payne. "It's thriving because there's so much to make fun of."
And that's why comedy and tragedy sing so well together when they get a chance, on big screen or small. Sometimes, things get so bad that all you can do is laugh.