You ever have one of those times where you screw something up despite your best intentions? You know you're screwing up while you're screwing up, but the dominoes continue to fall.
That, in a nutshell was my Level Three audition. The "Dear John" e-mail I received at 1:30 a.m. was a mere formality: try again in two months.
At least I knew I had screwed up and why, so the result wasn't a shock. Only 36 people get accepted out of the approximately 75 people who audition. Several of my friends didn't make it on Friday. Several male friends. One of us posted the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer segment with the land of misfit toys. We may form our own troupe: The Land of Misfit Boys. Well, congrats to my friends who made it through.
Anyhow, a look behind the curtain: introduce yourself, do a three person scene, and then do montage.
It's over very quickly.
The three person scenes have you lined up alphabetically with your class members. So, in class it may have been wise to have sought out more scenes with the two people immediately after me in the alphabet to familiarize myself with these actors. Oops. Montage was done one of two ways: one class did sweep edits and had call backs in their montage. Our class and one of the other classes did walk-out edits with no call backs. The montage in our class devolved into a series of five person scenes. Five-person scenes are very cluster-fucky in a montage. It wasn't as bad as freeze tag during the initial audition, but that's not saying much.
You can also get your notes after the audition to find out what you need to work on. Me? My characters did not have enough detail, and I did not have enough emotional range during my audition. Fair enough, and I'm not surprised. I would've probably used the word "insipid" if I were to give myself notes. But, I digress, lest this become a pity-wank.
So, yours truly will be planning his next improv steps and looking forward to giving this another try in two months.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Something I learned Today
We had a double header. One, two, three, four, five, six -- count 'em -- six hours of improv. Loved it.
We began with some of our usual scene work exercises. As usual, it kind of went off the rails.
So, again, we came back to sharing stories of interactions that we had with people within the the past week or so. Sadly, many of us found ourselves scrapping to find an example, because it had to be a face to face reaction instead of e-mail, telephone, Skype, bathhouse rendezvous, etc. Gellman urged us to use these to initiate our scenes. That may seem contrary to the idea of making it up from scratch. It's not. One of the pitfalls is to try to be too "empty" when you begin a scene. Unless you are really at the top of the improv game, you probably can't be truly "empty" when you begin a scene and still be able to pull it off (i.e. produce a good scene). Having some lines stored up is just a trick of the trade. So we shared some of our personal interactions over the recent past, and began our scene work.
Again the fundamentals are stressed: emotional reactions to the situation, the other actors in the scene, and the environment. With respect to the interactions that we had, one may fall into the trap of assuming the role you were in when the interaction happened. The stronger choice for improvising is to choose the person on the interaction who is doing the action. A variation on that advice is to treat your scene partners the way that people treat you.
Dan and Kristen had a fun scene where he sought counseling from a friend who is not a licensed psychiatrist. She ran with it. Then he got pissed off with her diagnosis. Kristen had this funny Godzilla line -- complete with Godzilla claw motion -- that was directed at Dan.
The second three hour session was very much dedicated to Gellman drilling us on fundamentals to get us ready for our audition on Friday. (The audition to determine if we get to move on to level three and the remainder of the conservatory levels.) We worked on three person scenes (one part of the audition process) in the first of the second session (the third quarter?). We had ten people in class, so two lucky dogs got to perform two three person scenes. Yeah, I was all over that shit.
Scott, Zach (a Sunday session guy), and I played a fun scene in an airport. Our flight was delayed, and Zach's character was worried that his wife would flip out. My character was recently divorced and not happy about it. Scott's character was gay, and Zach and I agreed that he had it easier because guy's are easier to deal with and his partner Dale (not in the scene) was pretty cool. Scott had this great reaction line where he accused us of judging him with our eyes. He could see that we were just imagining he and his partner having sex every time he spoke. That was a fun scene to be in.
We had a bit of discussion afterwards about what works in a scene. Personally, I've been over thinking things way too much in my conservatory classes. In the past couple weeks, I've tried (with occasional success) to just have fun and not over think and over process a scene. Almost anybody who seriously pursues improv probably did impersonations and characters for their family and friends long before they ever took an improv course. And they probably made their family and friends laugh with these antics, an that encouragement maybe resulted in school plays, prank phone calls, being a class clown, or whatever.
I know that's how things played out for me, and when I'm impersonating a co-worker for other co-workers, or impersonating a relative for other relatives, or what have you, I don't over think it. I don't try too hard to be funny. I don't build up whatever I'm doing to be some great monumental statement. I just have fun and act the way I think that person would act with all the physical ticks, voice inflections, stock phrases, and whatever else enters my head. It's just fun. And it's easy to morph into these people because I've observed them. I've noticed the small things, spent time with them, and assuming their persona for a brief while doesn't feel like a huge stretch. The past few weeks, I've made a conscious effort to reconnect with that. I still stumble and fall into bad habits, but I've felt more locked into the process recently and simplifying things helps immensely. Paying attention to what the instructor says and has said for the past eight weeks also helps. (So glad I've been writing it down and regurgitating it into cyberspace; I can review my notes on my phone when I'm riding the Blue Line on a weekday morning. It sure as hell beats having what I think is a staring contest with the former fratboy day trader douche who wears his sunglasses for the entirety of train ride. But I digress.) The advice to have a line or even a character in your back pocket before you step out makes it less daunting. Ultimately, that's not too different from riffing with friends, except that you have some parameters to work with and ground rules to keep in mind.
On that note, Gellman told us that part of what we're being taught to do is to fuck around with focus. Fuck around with focus. What a great ethos.
The last portion of class was fucking around with characters and we were encouraged to get goofy, crazy, whacky, and bats hit. Shit got pretty warped -- as it was supposed to. I got to use my Canadian accent, which is always fun for me. (And not a great stretch because I have several relatives who live in various small towns east of Toronto along the 401.) There was a great scene where Kristen was a grandmother who had some form of dementia (I guess), two of her grandkids were trying to keep her from hurting herself, and she accused them of wanting her dead. Casey (the difficult third grandchild) just agreed with that accusation of wanting Grannie to croak, Grannie lauded him for his honesty, and the scene clicked into place after that.
There was so much great scene work that I'm not recalling at this late hour, but this was an immensely fun day of improv. Everybody in the class is immensely talented, and it's a privilege to play with them. We were joined by two awesome improvisers from the Sunday class: Zach and Ann Marie. It was a pleasure having them on stage.
Wow, after six hours, I wanted to keep going.
We began with some of our usual scene work exercises. As usual, it kind of went off the rails.
So, again, we came back to sharing stories of interactions that we had with people within the the past week or so. Sadly, many of us found ourselves scrapping to find an example, because it had to be a face to face reaction instead of e-mail, telephone, Skype, bathhouse rendezvous, etc. Gellman urged us to use these to initiate our scenes. That may seem contrary to the idea of making it up from scratch. It's not. One of the pitfalls is to try to be too "empty" when you begin a scene. Unless you are really at the top of the improv game, you probably can't be truly "empty" when you begin a scene and still be able to pull it off (i.e. produce a good scene). Having some lines stored up is just a trick of the trade. So we shared some of our personal interactions over the recent past, and began our scene work.
Again the fundamentals are stressed: emotional reactions to the situation, the other actors in the scene, and the environment. With respect to the interactions that we had, one may fall into the trap of assuming the role you were in when the interaction happened. The stronger choice for improvising is to choose the person on the interaction who is doing the action. A variation on that advice is to treat your scene partners the way that people treat you.
Dan and Kristen had a fun scene where he sought counseling from a friend who is not a licensed psychiatrist. She ran with it. Then he got pissed off with her diagnosis. Kristen had this funny Godzilla line -- complete with Godzilla claw motion -- that was directed at Dan.
The second three hour session was very much dedicated to Gellman drilling us on fundamentals to get us ready for our audition on Friday. (The audition to determine if we get to move on to level three and the remainder of the conservatory levels.) We worked on three person scenes (one part of the audition process) in the first of the second session (the third quarter?). We had ten people in class, so two lucky dogs got to perform two three person scenes. Yeah, I was all over that shit.
Scott, Zach (a Sunday session guy), and I played a fun scene in an airport. Our flight was delayed, and Zach's character was worried that his wife would flip out. My character was recently divorced and not happy about it. Scott's character was gay, and Zach and I agreed that he had it easier because guy's are easier to deal with and his partner Dale (not in the scene) was pretty cool. Scott had this great reaction line where he accused us of judging him with our eyes. He could see that we were just imagining he and his partner having sex every time he spoke. That was a fun scene to be in.
We had a bit of discussion afterwards about what works in a scene. Personally, I've been over thinking things way too much in my conservatory classes. In the past couple weeks, I've tried (with occasional success) to just have fun and not over think and over process a scene. Almost anybody who seriously pursues improv probably did impersonations and characters for their family and friends long before they ever took an improv course. And they probably made their family and friends laugh with these antics, an that encouragement maybe resulted in school plays, prank phone calls, being a class clown, or whatever.
I know that's how things played out for me, and when I'm impersonating a co-worker for other co-workers, or impersonating a relative for other relatives, or what have you, I don't over think it. I don't try too hard to be funny. I don't build up whatever I'm doing to be some great monumental statement. I just have fun and act the way I think that person would act with all the physical ticks, voice inflections, stock phrases, and whatever else enters my head. It's just fun. And it's easy to morph into these people because I've observed them. I've noticed the small things, spent time with them, and assuming their persona for a brief while doesn't feel like a huge stretch. The past few weeks, I've made a conscious effort to reconnect with that. I still stumble and fall into bad habits, but I've felt more locked into the process recently and simplifying things helps immensely. Paying attention to what the instructor says and has said for the past eight weeks also helps. (So glad I've been writing it down and regurgitating it into cyberspace; I can review my notes on my phone when I'm riding the Blue Line on a weekday morning. It sure as hell beats having what I think is a staring contest with the former fratboy day trader douche who wears his sunglasses for the entirety of train ride. But I digress.) The advice to have a line or even a character in your back pocket before you step out makes it less daunting. Ultimately, that's not too different from riffing with friends, except that you have some parameters to work with and ground rules to keep in mind.
On that note, Gellman told us that part of what we're being taught to do is to fuck around with focus. Fuck around with focus. What a great ethos.
The last portion of class was fucking around with characters and we were encouraged to get goofy, crazy, whacky, and bats hit. Shit got pretty warped -- as it was supposed to. I got to use my Canadian accent, which is always fun for me. (And not a great stretch because I have several relatives who live in various small towns east of Toronto along the 401.) There was a great scene where Kristen was a grandmother who had some form of dementia (I guess), two of her grandkids were trying to keep her from hurting herself, and she accused them of wanting her dead. Casey (the difficult third grandchild) just agreed with that accusation of wanting Grannie to croak, Grannie lauded him for his honesty, and the scene clicked into place after that.
There was so much great scene work that I'm not recalling at this late hour, but this was an immensely fun day of improv. Everybody in the class is immensely talented, and it's a privilege to play with them. We were joined by two awesome improvisers from the Sunday class: Zach and Ann Marie. It was a pleasure having them on stage.
Wow, after six hours, I wanted to keep going.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
The Words I Thought I Brought, I Left Behind
My notes are for shit this time around, so here goes (mostly from memory).
We began with a warm-up that was very much within my skill set: improvise as poorly as possible. Owned it. Clunky exposition. Talking about objects. Questions? Negating your scene partner's choice. Leaving. I told my my scene partner she had poop smeared on her forehead. Dicks were whipped out -- by women. Farts were mentioned. People were called gay. Sadly, we forgot to mention Hitler. Schade.
After that shit show, we got down to business. We did two exercises that allowed everybody to have three scenes. All in all, we had a solid class. The first exercise was two people with one of them doing an activity. An activity that takes concentration. Something you do not want to be distracted from, and your goal is to carry on with that activity for the entire scene. Your scene partner, is trying to distract you. Both actors were to strive to be a character. The exercise consisted of two scenes, with the same characters in each scene. In the second scene, the setting would change, and the "doer" from the first scene would be the distractor in the second scene and vice versa.
This was fun. Mario and Kristen did a scene where they were exes trying be "just friends." Yeah, right. Gellman pointed out a cool thing about their two scenes: they were both doing the same activity: moving around old shit (one time in an attic and the other time in a storage facility), which was also reflective of their dialogue. They were having a conversation that they had probably had had many times before when they were dating. Scott and Kris had a very fun scene where they were step-siblings. And they played and drew on Scott's activity from the first of the two scenes: building a house of cards.
This exercise marked the second time in Conservatory where I tried to perform a character based loosely on a good friend of mine. He's distinctive in his voice, diction, and personality. So that helps. It feels almost as if you're cheating when do something like that. There's another benefit too: the person I base this character on is extremely slow to anger and almost always sees the good in people. So, that helps with my anger issues during scene work. I was in the scene with Megan, who gave this overly agreeable nice guy persona great stuff to work with as the home-wrecking next-door neighbor.
A cool aspect of this exercise was that the second scenes were invariably stronger than the first. The second scenes were stronger because the exposition was already out of the way for us, so we didn't feel the need to set the table for the scene. It made the scenes stronger because it was believable that the two characters already knew each other, had a history, and the scene would just begin as if the audience is walking in on a conversation that was already underway.
The second exercise was quite the challenge: two person scene in which you can only speak when you touch your scene partner. And, no, you don't just get to hold onto your scene partner for the whole scene so you can talk whenever you want. This was a great exercise for making silence less uncomfortable and feeling its power while you're in the middle of it. You also have to focus more on your scene partner, his or her facial expression, movement, and location on stage. Really cool stuff. Scott and Elizabeth had an awesome scene where they were mother and son. Scott was a gamer with no friends -- with the exception of the eight people scattered all over the world with he plays his games.
Ultimately, the purpose of these exercises was to get us to do what we should be doing every time we play: be a character with strong needs and wants interacting with his or her environment with honest emotional reactions. Or something like that.
We began with a warm-up that was very much within my skill set: improvise as poorly as possible. Owned it. Clunky exposition. Talking about objects. Questions? Negating your scene partner's choice. Leaving. I told my my scene partner she had poop smeared on her forehead. Dicks were whipped out -- by women. Farts were mentioned. People were called gay. Sadly, we forgot to mention Hitler. Schade.
After that shit show, we got down to business. We did two exercises that allowed everybody to have three scenes. All in all, we had a solid class. The first exercise was two people with one of them doing an activity. An activity that takes concentration. Something you do not want to be distracted from, and your goal is to carry on with that activity for the entire scene. Your scene partner, is trying to distract you. Both actors were to strive to be a character. The exercise consisted of two scenes, with the same characters in each scene. In the second scene, the setting would change, and the "doer" from the first scene would be the distractor in the second scene and vice versa.
This was fun. Mario and Kristen did a scene where they were exes trying be "just friends." Yeah, right. Gellman pointed out a cool thing about their two scenes: they were both doing the same activity: moving around old shit (one time in an attic and the other time in a storage facility), which was also reflective of their dialogue. They were having a conversation that they had probably had had many times before when they were dating. Scott and Kris had a very fun scene where they were step-siblings. And they played and drew on Scott's activity from the first of the two scenes: building a house of cards.
This exercise marked the second time in Conservatory where I tried to perform a character based loosely on a good friend of mine. He's distinctive in his voice, diction, and personality. So that helps. It feels almost as if you're cheating when do something like that. There's another benefit too: the person I base this character on is extremely slow to anger and almost always sees the good in people. So, that helps with my anger issues during scene work. I was in the scene with Megan, who gave this overly agreeable nice guy persona great stuff to work with as the home-wrecking next-door neighbor.
A cool aspect of this exercise was that the second scenes were invariably stronger than the first. The second scenes were stronger because the exposition was already out of the way for us, so we didn't feel the need to set the table for the scene. It made the scenes stronger because it was believable that the two characters already knew each other, had a history, and the scene would just begin as if the audience is walking in on a conversation that was already underway.
The second exercise was quite the challenge: two person scene in which you can only speak when you touch your scene partner. And, no, you don't just get to hold onto your scene partner for the whole scene so you can talk whenever you want. This was a great exercise for making silence less uncomfortable and feeling its power while you're in the middle of it. You also have to focus more on your scene partner, his or her facial expression, movement, and location on stage. Really cool stuff. Scott and Elizabeth had an awesome scene where they were mother and son. Scott was a gamer with no friends -- with the exception of the eight people scattered all over the world with he plays his games.
Ultimately, the purpose of these exercises was to get us to do what we should be doing every time we play: be a character with strong needs and wants interacting with his or her environment with honest emotional reactions. Or something like that.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Mr. Self Destruct
Yesterday began with about half of us in class, so we began with freeze tag. This sequence of freeze tag felt good as a unit (even though it only involved about half of us). Poor Scott made the mistake of embracing me in a scene -- never do that immediately after I've ridden my bike to class.
Once the whole gang had arrived, we did a mock audition. (Because you have to audition after Level Two to be allowed to complete the program.) This was a mid term of sorts. If you remember that scene from Rocky IV where Ivan Drago declares to Rocky: "I must break you," you have an idea of what Gellman was out to accomplish with this exercise. Everybody was against the back wall, and we did three people scenes after getting a suggestion from the "audience." The characters were supposed to be somewhat close to who we are in real life.
Then, it was time to be broken. Of the ten people in our group, he said that two of us would have made it through. Spoiler alert: yours truly ain't one of 'em. And then, things got personal. "Personal" as in personal critiques of what we're doing wrong. Questions about what we were thinking on stage. And tips to improve what we're doing. (I think at that point it was pretty much a given that we would have a better turn out than usual for our post class drinking session.) A global suggestion was that we were taking far too long to get going. In these scenes, we need to check-in and get the first line out within three seconds. Tops. Another global suggestion/admonishment was that these scenes are about character. Character comes first and scenic content is a second. (Perhaps a distant second.) The goal of these scenes is to have the actors perform their characters with an emotion while interacting with their environment. Easier said than done. You've taught all these great things over the course of months or years, and it's confounding how it all can evaporate during that three minute scene. You (or I, more accurately) find yourself making the same mistakes. Again and again and again. Son-bitch.
Another mistake: letting the first line define the entirety of the scene. (This is useful corollary to the beginner's mistake with object work -- talking about the object or the action involved with the object.) Yet another error that found its way into more than one of our scenes was turning the three person scene into a two against one. This is bad. Very bad. Well, it's very bad for the two people who gang up on the one. The one, according to Sensai Gellman, will almost always come off looking better than the two. In fact, the one will have a much better chance of making it through because the auditors will conclude, "fuck, she deserves it after putting up with those assholes."
Yeah, I was involved in one of those 2 on 1 scenes as part of the 2. In the personal critiques afterwards, I was once again told -- wait for it -- TOO ANGRY. I was genuinely surprised, but it's again something to work and to try to banish. Gellman then asked me several questions about the character I was playing on stage. What did he want? What did he desire? I had no answers, which was reminiscent of trying to write a character based loosely on me in a writing class. I had the same critiques: this character's wants and desires were not well defined. Well, yeah, because I'm apathetic. And angry, evidently. (We grow 'em dispassionate and irritable in the wilds of southwestern Michigan.) So, that's a challenge and some homework worth doing with respect to improv and writing: stop doing the same shit.
But enough about me. As a unit we were also faulted for "yes anding" a single topic or just "yessing" a single topic. Example: grandma died. And then an entire scene about the single subject of grandma's demise. Throw another log on the fire and take it in another direction: "Cool. She was an ornery old bitch who never let me eat ice cream. And now we get to sell her house and pocket the money. I'm spending Christmas in La Paz with a gaggle of whores! Thanks, grams."
Going further on emotions, we all too often have the urge to treat a scene partner the same way that we would treat a real person who is emotional: we try to console or de-fuse the trauma. But we get a better scene when we throw gas on the fire instead of putting it out.
Another fundamental thing that we were drilled on was connecting on stage without constant eye contact. In several of our scenes, whatever object work we were doing would either get ignored entirely or get turned into a mindless and repetitive motion. (Think Daniel-san doing "wax on" when a table or something else is being scrubbed or wiped off.)
Man, that class was a punch in the gut. As I understand it, he is trying to get us out of the trap of thinking too much on stage and trying to be funny. We just need to let it go and start moving, talking and reacting without all the pre-planning, processing, and stammering. Just start delivering lines and moving around and figure out what you were doing after you did it. I've been trying to get myslef to do that in scenes for a while, but it just seems to fall apart in practice.
So, back to my anger issues and the above paragraph. The final scene of class was a four person scene: mother (Elizabeth) and her three kids (Dan, Megan, and I). After some side-coaching, Gellman got one of us playing the kids to assume a place in the birth order. It was Dan as the youngest (and he's a real life youngest child). And his lines were delivered after the mother and his sister. So, after he did his bit it was my turn to go. Given my crow's feet and ever-increasing light black hairs, I took the mantle of oldest child (even though I, too, am the youngest in real life). I just channeled my oldest sister and some of the tirades she used to have when we were all growing up and having an argument as an entire family. It was anger, sure, but it was also just delivered freely without trying to be witty or clever and the words just came out without searching for them beforehand. Despite this outburst of anger, Sensai told me it was a solid contribution. According to him the difference was that the emotion was honest and the character had an opinion, something to say, instead of just spouting off out of intellectual laziness.
Once the whole gang had arrived, we did a mock audition. (Because you have to audition after Level Two to be allowed to complete the program.) This was a mid term of sorts. If you remember that scene from Rocky IV where Ivan Drago declares to Rocky: "I must break you," you have an idea of what Gellman was out to accomplish with this exercise. Everybody was against the back wall, and we did three people scenes after getting a suggestion from the "audience." The characters were supposed to be somewhat close to who we are in real life.
Then, it was time to be broken. Of the ten people in our group, he said that two of us would have made it through. Spoiler alert: yours truly ain't one of 'em. And then, things got personal. "Personal" as in personal critiques of what we're doing wrong. Questions about what we were thinking on stage. And tips to improve what we're doing. (I think at that point it was pretty much a given that we would have a better turn out than usual for our post class drinking session.) A global suggestion was that we were taking far too long to get going. In these scenes, we need to check-in and get the first line out within three seconds. Tops. Another global suggestion/admonishment was that these scenes are about character. Character comes first and scenic content is a second. (Perhaps a distant second.) The goal of these scenes is to have the actors perform their characters with an emotion while interacting with their environment. Easier said than done. You've taught all these great things over the course of months or years, and it's confounding how it all can evaporate during that three minute scene. You (or I, more accurately) find yourself making the same mistakes. Again and again and again. Son-bitch.
Another mistake: letting the first line define the entirety of the scene. (This is useful corollary to the beginner's mistake with object work -- talking about the object or the action involved with the object.) Yet another error that found its way into more than one of our scenes was turning the three person scene into a two against one. This is bad. Very bad. Well, it's very bad for the two people who gang up on the one. The one, according to Sensai Gellman, will almost always come off looking better than the two. In fact, the one will have a much better chance of making it through because the auditors will conclude, "fuck, she deserves it after putting up with those assholes."
Yeah, I was involved in one of those 2 on 1 scenes as part of the 2. In the personal critiques afterwards, I was once again told -- wait for it -- TOO ANGRY. I was genuinely surprised, but it's again something to work and to try to banish. Gellman then asked me several questions about the character I was playing on stage. What did he want? What did he desire? I had no answers, which was reminiscent of trying to write a character based loosely on me in a writing class. I had the same critiques: this character's wants and desires were not well defined. Well, yeah, because I'm apathetic. And angry, evidently. (We grow 'em dispassionate and irritable in the wilds of southwestern Michigan.) So, that's a challenge and some homework worth doing with respect to improv and writing: stop doing the same shit.
But enough about me. As a unit we were also faulted for "yes anding" a single topic or just "yessing" a single topic. Example: grandma died. And then an entire scene about the single subject of grandma's demise. Throw another log on the fire and take it in another direction: "Cool. She was an ornery old bitch who never let me eat ice cream. And now we get to sell her house and pocket the money. I'm spending Christmas in La Paz with a gaggle of whores! Thanks, grams."
Going further on emotions, we all too often have the urge to treat a scene partner the same way that we would treat a real person who is emotional: we try to console or de-fuse the trauma. But we get a better scene when we throw gas on the fire instead of putting it out.
Another fundamental thing that we were drilled on was connecting on stage without constant eye contact. In several of our scenes, whatever object work we were doing would either get ignored entirely or get turned into a mindless and repetitive motion. (Think Daniel-san doing "wax on" when a table or something else is being scrubbed or wiped off.)
Man, that class was a punch in the gut. As I understand it, he is trying to get us out of the trap of thinking too much on stage and trying to be funny. We just need to let it go and start moving, talking and reacting without all the pre-planning, processing, and stammering. Just start delivering lines and moving around and figure out what you were doing after you did it. I've been trying to get myslef to do that in scenes for a while, but it just seems to fall apart in practice.
So, back to my anger issues and the above paragraph. The final scene of class was a four person scene: mother (Elizabeth) and her three kids (Dan, Megan, and I). After some side-coaching, Gellman got one of us playing the kids to assume a place in the birth order. It was Dan as the youngest (and he's a real life youngest child). And his lines were delivered after the mother and his sister. So, after he did his bit it was my turn to go. Given my crow's feet and ever-increasing light black hairs, I took the mantle of oldest child (even though I, too, am the youngest in real life). I just channeled my oldest sister and some of the tirades she used to have when we were all growing up and having an argument as an entire family. It was anger, sure, but it was also just delivered freely without trying to be witty or clever and the words just came out without searching for them beforehand. Despite this outburst of anger, Sensai told me it was a solid contribution. According to him the difference was that the emotion was honest and the character had an opinion, something to say, instead of just spouting off out of intellectual laziness.
* * * * *
I finally went out and saw professionals imrpovising this past week. I had fallen into a lull of not going to shows after the past several weeks. What got me off my ass and out of the house on a weeknight? One of my Second City instructors, Kate Duffy, is leaving flyover country for Los Angeles. Well, Kate was performing with her close friend, and improv giant, Susan Messing at the Annoyance on Wednesday. It was a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: see Kate before she left and finally see Susan Messing improvise.
The fuss and hype are entirely deserved. This show was awesome. You can tell that they are great friends and that they love being on stage together. As entertaining as the show was, it was also kind of intimidating for a novice improviser. You find yourself thinking, in between bursts of laughter, "damn, how do they that. I have so much to learn." Personally, I was tickled pink that they used the audience suggestion "Jimmy Hoffa" for the show. What ensued were scenes with mob wives, cellmates in prison having altercations over chess pieces, a mob wife cheating on her husband, a psychologist taking advantage of her patient and insisting on payment afterwards, a pervy dude named Glenn using fisting as a pick-up line, Turkish prison guards who are huge fans of the NHL, two early teen-age boys calling each other "abortion face" and trying to explain sex with a dinner date metaphor. The whole experience was a reminder of just how fun improv can be and is. A reminder worth keeping in mind after a harsh review, a bad class, or a bad performance.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
I Get So Emotional
About a week ago, I did a make-up class on Wednesday night. I couldn't make my usual Saturday slot on account of a baby shower. A baby shower for my baby. [Pause for appropriate emotional responses from all of you wonderful readers.]
All of the actors in class were strangers, even if a few had vaguely familiar faces. I didn't bother to learn any of their names. I guess that makes me an aloof prick, but nobody asked me my name either. So, there.
Back to my notes and observations from class. We concentrated on emotional reactions in our scenes. The sort of emotional reactions that somebody has when they've been holding onto something personal about somebody and have avoided saying it for too long. You know these sort statements: I love you. You're selfish. This isn't working. I hate your meatloaf recipe. That sweater is actually pretty ugly. You ruined oral sex for me. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The emotional response is a good piece of advice. Too often we make the mistake of being too polite in our scene work, probably because it's closer to the pussy-footing we do in our everyday conversations. And, perhaps, the tendency to mimic the insipid interactions we have every day is a misguided attempt to make our work seem more realistic.
We were also encouraged to make physical or emotional movements before we speak to get ourselves out of our heads on stage. The added bonus of making an emotional or physical movement before uttering a word is that your scene partner gets something to react to -- it puts less pressure on them to create something out of thin air.
To help with the night's emphasis on reactions, we played an immensely fun game called "Sentences." We each wrote a personal sentence on a scrap of paper and tossed them on top of a table. Then, you and your scene partner take five scraps of paper and put them in our back pockets. (Except for a woman who wore a dress that had no pockets. She held the papers in her hand.) The papers were there to be used when we were at a loss for a reaction to what our partner was saying. Gellman told us that the game is played poorly when the sentences are used as an initiation or in a manner equivalent to mad libs. A highlight was a scene involving Bosnian janitors (man and woman) who were having a contentious conversation that delved into unrequited love.
The main thing we took away from this exercise is that if you get emotional on stage, then you can't fuck it up. You just gotta go for it. That being said, anger is the emotion that is used as a default because it's the easiest one to reach for. I'm guilty of this.
The challenge is to reach for other emotions, to go elsewhere on the palette.
We then tried to put our knowledge to use in some improv games that we learned and payed numerous times in Levels A through E: 4 square and scene tag. The basic principles that we worked on was to make physical choices, to react, to play with emotion, and to listen.
I had fun playing with this new group, but I missed my Saturday posse.
All of the actors in class were strangers, even if a few had vaguely familiar faces. I didn't bother to learn any of their names. I guess that makes me an aloof prick, but nobody asked me my name either. So, there.
Back to my notes and observations from class. We concentrated on emotional reactions in our scenes. The sort of emotional reactions that somebody has when they've been holding onto something personal about somebody and have avoided saying it for too long. You know these sort statements: I love you. You're selfish. This isn't working. I hate your meatloaf recipe. That sweater is actually pretty ugly. You ruined oral sex for me. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The emotional response is a good piece of advice. Too often we make the mistake of being too polite in our scene work, probably because it's closer to the pussy-footing we do in our everyday conversations. And, perhaps, the tendency to mimic the insipid interactions we have every day is a misguided attempt to make our work seem more realistic.
We were also encouraged to make physical or emotional movements before we speak to get ourselves out of our heads on stage. The added bonus of making an emotional or physical movement before uttering a word is that your scene partner gets something to react to -- it puts less pressure on them to create something out of thin air.
To help with the night's emphasis on reactions, we played an immensely fun game called "Sentences." We each wrote a personal sentence on a scrap of paper and tossed them on top of a table. Then, you and your scene partner take five scraps of paper and put them in our back pockets. (Except for a woman who wore a dress that had no pockets. She held the papers in her hand.) The papers were there to be used when we were at a loss for a reaction to what our partner was saying. Gellman told us that the game is played poorly when the sentences are used as an initiation or in a manner equivalent to mad libs. A highlight was a scene involving Bosnian janitors (man and woman) who were having a contentious conversation that delved into unrequited love.
The main thing we took away from this exercise is that if you get emotional on stage, then you can't fuck it up. You just gotta go for it. That being said, anger is the emotion that is used as a default because it's the easiest one to reach for. I'm guilty of this.
The challenge is to reach for other emotions, to go elsewhere on the palette.
We then tried to put our knowledge to use in some improv games that we learned and payed numerous times in Levels A through E: 4 square and scene tag. The basic principles that we worked on was to make physical choices, to react, to play with emotion, and to listen.
I had fun playing with this new group, but I missed my Saturday posse.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Head Games (It's You and Me, Baby)
It was one of those days. One of those days where you're thinking about other things when you should be thinking about you're doing. So, my scenework was basically for shit today. Well, it happens.
We began by listing some current events topics at the beginning of class. Topics such as the teachers' strike here in Chicago, the nutcase-dipshit who made the anti-Islam movie that has pissed off the nutcase-dipshit faction of the Islamic world, the brouhaha over the princess's boobs (is that France's revenge for Waterloo?), and Romney's "Obama supports the Islamic radicals" quip. The point of this exercise was to get us thinking about how our improvised characters might mention these events during a scene to add depth to our characters and the scenes themselves. I like that idea because it takes the action on stage out of a vacuum.
We spent a good chunk of our time on theoretical stuff. Part of that discussion was the notion that being trained to create shows that are sold to an audience somehow compromises the content or the integrity of the show. Gellman was adamant that being able to learn this craft to communicate and connect with a broad audience is more sophisticated than just doing it for the amusement of your friends and their friends. He uses IO as an example. He says that when you go to a show at IO, chances are the audience consists of other improv students or other improvisers you've seen around town. (True enough, I guess.) His point was that communicating with a broader audience is more difficult, and it is not necessarily dumbing down your material. If you just make other people in your improv group laugh, and nobody ever pays to see you perform that material, then your just having a circle jerk.
In our scenework, we spent an extensive amount of time on montages -- which will be a huge focus of our audition to be allowed to complete the conservatory. As a preface to that work, Gellman shared a piece of advice that stuck with me: as an actor, your line is not over until your scene partner reacts/responds to your line.
In montages, the idea is to come out, take a few seconds with an action on stage, and check in with your partners before delivering lines. Leading off with a line without seeing what's happening, who's on stage with you, and what they are doing can lead to some very bad beginnings to your scene. For example, you say "Dad, I'm not going to college" but you're onstage with two female actors. Or you start working with a wrench and say something about the car you're working on when the people behind you are bowling. This goes against what many people are taught in their beginning classes -- to just say something as you are walking out. Also, we were bluntly told that montages do not have call backs (or reincorporation) of previous scenes or characters.
We began class on hour early this week, which was kind of cool because we had our usual room for an hour after class ended. We used that time to jam and practice our montages.
Damn, is that all I have to say about this week? Fuck, I need to take better notes.
We began by listing some current events topics at the beginning of class. Topics such as the teachers' strike here in Chicago, the nutcase-dipshit who made the anti-Islam movie that has pissed off the nutcase-dipshit faction of the Islamic world, the brouhaha over the princess's boobs (is that France's revenge for Waterloo?), and Romney's "Obama supports the Islamic radicals" quip. The point of this exercise was to get us thinking about how our improvised characters might mention these events during a scene to add depth to our characters and the scenes themselves. I like that idea because it takes the action on stage out of a vacuum.
We spent a good chunk of our time on theoretical stuff. Part of that discussion was the notion that being trained to create shows that are sold to an audience somehow compromises the content or the integrity of the show. Gellman was adamant that being able to learn this craft to communicate and connect with a broad audience is more sophisticated than just doing it for the amusement of your friends and their friends. He uses IO as an example. He says that when you go to a show at IO, chances are the audience consists of other improv students or other improvisers you've seen around town. (True enough, I guess.) His point was that communicating with a broader audience is more difficult, and it is not necessarily dumbing down your material. If you just make other people in your improv group laugh, and nobody ever pays to see you perform that material, then your just having a circle jerk.
In our scenework, we spent an extensive amount of time on montages -- which will be a huge focus of our audition to be allowed to complete the conservatory. As a preface to that work, Gellman shared a piece of advice that stuck with me: as an actor, your line is not over until your scene partner reacts/responds to your line.
In montages, the idea is to come out, take a few seconds with an action on stage, and check in with your partners before delivering lines. Leading off with a line without seeing what's happening, who's on stage with you, and what they are doing can lead to some very bad beginnings to your scene. For example, you say "Dad, I'm not going to college" but you're onstage with two female actors. Or you start working with a wrench and say something about the car you're working on when the people behind you are bowling. This goes against what many people are taught in their beginning classes -- to just say something as you are walking out. Also, we were bluntly told that montages do not have call backs (or reincorporation) of previous scenes or characters.
We began class on hour early this week, which was kind of cool because we had our usual room for an hour after class ended. We used that time to jam and practice our montages.
Damn, is that all I have to say about this week? Fuck, I need to take better notes.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
I Am A Man Who Will Fight For Your Honor
Back at it.
Once again, we got into things with some freeze tag. But before we began, Gellman shared a story about a classic Laurel & Hardy scene where they have to deliver a piano to a house in the Hollywood Hills and they have to go up 250 steps from Sunset Blvd. to get to the house. His lesson from that story was that adding the stairs to that scene was the source of the comedy, and we need to add stairs (in a metaphorical sense) to our scenes to create comedy.
After our freeze tag warm-up, we had a review of last week's ground rules for dialogue and Gellman's personal rules for his class. He expanded on one of the reasons for his no gender-bending rule: in some improv circles men play women because there are no women in the troupe, and there are often no women in the troupe because of the bullshit notion that "women aren't funny." That shit don't fly in Gellman's class. And rightfully so. During this part of class, he also shared a vitally important life lesson: "Junkies can't be trusted, especially when they are speedballing."
One of the drills that we did, which we also did last week, was sixty second relationship scenes. Two people are on the stage, and the audience gives them a setting for their scene. What the actors have to do during that scene is to stick to the dialogue guidelines (yes, and; statements; and stay in the present) and establish a relationship between their two characters. It sounds easier than you'd think. You can't just be obvious about the relationship (Hello, mom, I am your son, and I am going to come out as gay in this scene...). It actually gets easier if you just look at your scene partner and react honestly to his or her cues, statements, and body language.
Some highlights of this exercise were Kris and [fuckican'trememberwhowasinthescenewithher] as sisters at a campground. Sister A accused sister B of hating her soul because it was so beautiful and that's why people like her. Another highlight was Dan and Kristen. Dan was hitting on Kristin after she had told him not to do it. He thought that restriction only applied for the previous shift as opposed to a blanket prohibition. It was then revealed that she was particularly opposed to his advances because they are co-workers -- and cousins.
Gellman's tip during this exercise was that the scene works better when the characters are fighting for something or someone -- such as a couple fighting to keep their relationship going (even if they want different things out of the relationship, they still want to be together). This idea of a clear exposition in the scene at the beginning is also usual for sketches because if a scene isn't working, a good place to start in trying to fix it is to go back to the beginning --the first sixty seconds -- and see if the characters relationships and objectives (what they are fighting for) are well defined.
Our next exercise was a wrinkle on the sixty second drill. We each had to write down a line that we said to somebody during the previous week or that somebody said to us. The line had to be person A saying something personal about themselves or the recipient of the line; it could not be about some third person. So, we got on stage with our scene partner and the audience gave us a relationship and a setting. Whoever went first said their line as the first line of the sixty-second scene. During that sixty seconds, a scenario had to develop. For the next scene, you and your scene partner have the same relationship, but you're given a new location, and it was the other person's turn to deliver their line first.
This was quite fun. My personal favorite was Mario and Siera as husband and wife. In scene one, they were in the yard of their home in Boise, ID. Mario's first line was "you're a prick." (Something a husband usually says to his wife.) In sixty seconds, they had the beginnings of a marital misunderstanding that was nuanced by a desire to make things work. In the second scene, they were on a balcony at a resort in Puerto Vallarta. Siera began with "you really are a selfish person." This couple had this funny scene where they both found common ground in that they are both selfish and put themselves before their spouse. But hey, it's just peachy because even though I put myself first, honey, you're number two above all others.
The idea of using a line as the spark for a scene is a good one. Gellman told us that one of his friends would keep a list of "overheards" that he'd use to begin scenes. I'm going to steal that idea.
Once again, we got into things with some freeze tag. But before we began, Gellman shared a story about a classic Laurel & Hardy scene where they have to deliver a piano to a house in the Hollywood Hills and they have to go up 250 steps from Sunset Blvd. to get to the house. His lesson from that story was that adding the stairs to that scene was the source of the comedy, and we need to add stairs (in a metaphorical sense) to our scenes to create comedy.
After our freeze tag warm-up, we had a review of last week's ground rules for dialogue and Gellman's personal rules for his class. He expanded on one of the reasons for his no gender-bending rule: in some improv circles men play women because there are no women in the troupe, and there are often no women in the troupe because of the bullshit notion that "women aren't funny." That shit don't fly in Gellman's class. And rightfully so. During this part of class, he also shared a vitally important life lesson: "Junkies can't be trusted, especially when they are speedballing."
One of the drills that we did, which we also did last week, was sixty second relationship scenes. Two people are on the stage, and the audience gives them a setting for their scene. What the actors have to do during that scene is to stick to the dialogue guidelines (yes, and; statements; and stay in the present) and establish a relationship between their two characters. It sounds easier than you'd think. You can't just be obvious about the relationship (Hello, mom, I am your son, and I am going to come out as gay in this scene...). It actually gets easier if you just look at your scene partner and react honestly to his or her cues, statements, and body language.
Some highlights of this exercise were Kris and [fuckican'trememberwhowasinthescenewithher] as sisters at a campground. Sister A accused sister B of hating her soul because it was so beautiful and that's why people like her. Another highlight was Dan and Kristen. Dan was hitting on Kristin after she had told him not to do it. He thought that restriction only applied for the previous shift as opposed to a blanket prohibition. It was then revealed that she was particularly opposed to his advances because they are co-workers -- and cousins.
Gellman's tip during this exercise was that the scene works better when the characters are fighting for something or someone -- such as a couple fighting to keep their relationship going (even if they want different things out of the relationship, they still want to be together). This idea of a clear exposition in the scene at the beginning is also usual for sketches because if a scene isn't working, a good place to start in trying to fix it is to go back to the beginning --the first sixty seconds -- and see if the characters relationships and objectives (what they are fighting for) are well defined.
Our next exercise was a wrinkle on the sixty second drill. We each had to write down a line that we said to somebody during the previous week or that somebody said to us. The line had to be person A saying something personal about themselves or the recipient of the line; it could not be about some third person. So, we got on stage with our scene partner and the audience gave us a relationship and a setting. Whoever went first said their line as the first line of the sixty-second scene. During that sixty seconds, a scenario had to develop. For the next scene, you and your scene partner have the same relationship, but you're given a new location, and it was the other person's turn to deliver their line first.
This was quite fun. My personal favorite was Mario and Siera as husband and wife. In scene one, they were in the yard of their home in Boise, ID. Mario's first line was "you're a prick." (Something a husband usually says to his wife.) In sixty seconds, they had the beginnings of a marital misunderstanding that was nuanced by a desire to make things work. In the second scene, they were on a balcony at a resort in Puerto Vallarta. Siera began with "you really are a selfish person." This couple had this funny scene where they both found common ground in that they are both selfish and put themselves before their spouse. But hey, it's just peachy because even though I put myself first, honey, you're number two above all others.
The idea of using a line as the spark for a scene is a good one. Gellman told us that one of his friends would keep a list of "overheards" that he'd use to begin scenes. I'm going to steal that idea.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Knockin' On Mine
Last Saturday was the first day of Conservatory Two with Michael Gellman.
When you
mention to Second City veterans that you are taking a class with “Gellman,”
they give you a knowing look. The sort
of look that suggest: “he’s a hard ass, fasten your seatbelt.” Well, he started us off with a game of freeze
tag. I felt rusty. As a group, we must have looked rusty,
because Gellman asked us if we had “last fucking improvved six fucking months
ago.” And, so, it begins.
Our freeze tag
had more than one moment of awkward-man on woman action. So much so that Gellman admonished the
menfolk to not be afraid of women. He called us nerds. He accused us of jerking off in our basements to Spy vs. Spy
from Mad Magazine. (What? I need to re-visit that because I never got a boner from Spy vs. Spy.) He also told us that not every scene needs to end with "fucking or sucking. I know that's what Tim O'Malley taught you, but ...."
Gellman then
asked us about interactions that we had with actual people in the past week.
Many of these involved alcohol, including my story. Oh well, we’re drunken clichés.
After that, we
were drilled on why we are here. We’re
here to hone our skills to see if we have the chops to be actors for the Second
City. The purpose of the Conservatory’s
first two levels is to distill what we’ve learnt in Levels A through E and to
see if we’ve retained those lessons. The
acid test to see if retained these lessons is the audition at the end of
Conservatory 2.
To that end,
we were reminded of dialogue guidelines in improv: (1) make statements; (2)
yes, and; (3) stay in the fucking present.
And, incidentally, in a Second City scene, the audience should see a
change in the character.
We were also
given some guidelines for the coming weeks.
(1) No gender-bending (i.e. men playing women and vice versa). The reason is that the audience cannot
suspend its disbelief at the gender-bend.
(2) Keep your bodily fluids inside you.
Not sure what that means. I’ll take it under advisement. (3) No sounds
effects. That one, even can I
understand.
At that point,
we given a history of improv. Sorry, my
notes for this segment of class are incoherent, but it boils down to this: our
tradition began with kids saying “fuck you” to the grown ups.
Before we got
back into scene work, we were given some pointers. Anger.
It ends a scene with argument or confrontation. Fearful is better than angry. We need to find out what’s underlying the
anger, deal with it, and make a better scene as a result.
Fighting. You have to build up to fight to get the
audience on your side: you get pushed three times before you’ve had
enough. If you get pushed three times,
then the audience thinks that it’s justifiable for you to snap.
Action. Don’t stop the action on stage. Your mind works better when you’re moving,
and action is like putting another log on the fire – which is another way of
saying “yes, and” to the scene.
Well, off to
have some real life experiences that do not involve alcohol.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
One Night in Bangkok....
Last day of Conservatory 1. What a great class.
Our warm-up exercise was the word association game that we did in our first class. (Look through previous posts if you don't believe me.) We begin with "you" and eventually a word gets said after "you," and the group votes on these words by repeating them or stating words that agree with the word said immediately before. Eventually, a narrative arises from these words. In our first attempt yesterday, it took us a while, but a story emerged where a guy went on a vacation to Hawaii and was attacked by a shark at a beach. He was taken to the hospital, a limb was amputated, and he eventually had sex with a nurse. (It's undetermined whether the nurse was male or female.) We got some suggestions and did it again. The second time, we had a murder, a burial in a shallow grave, a manhunt, a chase, and then a trial. (Knowing our group, it's somewhat surprising that prison sex wasn't introduced to the equation, but perhaps if had had more time....)
Tim then took suggestions from us for four categories: social/political issues, book or fictional works that have influenced us, things that we have done for the first time in the last several years, and locations (the more detailed the better). These categories were used as jumping off points for black outs and sketch ideas that consumed most of the rest of our class time.
We began by being divided in groups to work on three black outs. I was grouped with two very funny and talented friends: Scott and Kristin. Writing in a group is usually a source of frustration for me, but working with these two this was a very energetic, fun, and smooth process. We targeted a news issue (gas prices), a social issue (corporate citizenship and so-called right to lifers), and a place (the Air & Water Show -- we could hear the planes during class). Dr. Evil made an appearance in our gas prices blackout, Kristin had a PTSD flip-out induced by the airborne war machines at the Air & Water Show, and Scott and got to play rabid corporate right-to-lifers. (Note to self: you are too angry; it scares people.) We received some classic advice from Tim after our corporation abortion blackout: kill the bad people because audiences want justice.
Siera, Mario, and Christine had a very funny blackout regarding Chik-Fil-A. Siera and Christine were two lesbian lovers having a kiss in outside a Chik-Fil-A. Mario was a conservative evangelical who was at Chik-Fil-A to show his support for its social stand and the company's free speech rights. Despite his foaming hatred of "gays" he gets turned on by the sight of two women getting it on. All we need is love, right?
Our sketch work had us shuffled into new groups with the goal of choosing a place off our list of suggestions and focussing on character, action, and support. Ryan, Christine, Casey, and I were working in a slaughterhouse in Chicago during the 1920s. This involved several accents. (We were mostly immigrants.)
Scott, VP, and Kristin had a funny scene involving a roommate (Kristin) coming to sleep in the same room as her roommate (VP) and her friend/stud-muffin Scott. She eventually climbs into bed with them because the floor is too uncomfortable. And things get very uncomfortable.
The last group was Mario, Dan, and Siera. The setting: Bangkok. The premise: Mario was an effeminate Thai man. Dan was trying to get his lesbian sister (Siera) this girly boy as a mail order husband. But actually, Dan and Mario had hooked up the night before. Mario's antics were super funny in this scene.
Tim's insights after these scenes was that trying to be funny in a scene can break down the support between the actors which then short circuits the scene's development. We just have to trust that the funny will happen because our scene partners are talented and funny people instead of forcing the funniness. A counterexample to that advice is that even with silly characters the scene can progress and develop when the actors are playing their characters with emotional truth.
We ended class as we usually do with montage work, but we had a twist: we used the suggestions from earlier in class. We had Bill Clinton at a roller park, Romney and Ryan hanging out at a hipster bar in Logan Square, a women's studies class, and wild west saloon whose proprietor is allergic to cats.
We had a great time this term, and I cannot wait for next term.
Our warm-up exercise was the word association game that we did in our first class. (Look through previous posts if you don't believe me.) We begin with "you" and eventually a word gets said after "you," and the group votes on these words by repeating them or stating words that agree with the word said immediately before. Eventually, a narrative arises from these words. In our first attempt yesterday, it took us a while, but a story emerged where a guy went on a vacation to Hawaii and was attacked by a shark at a beach. He was taken to the hospital, a limb was amputated, and he eventually had sex with a nurse. (It's undetermined whether the nurse was male or female.) We got some suggestions and did it again. The second time, we had a murder, a burial in a shallow grave, a manhunt, a chase, and then a trial. (Knowing our group, it's somewhat surprising that prison sex wasn't introduced to the equation, but perhaps if had had more time....)
Tim then took suggestions from us for four categories: social/political issues, book or fictional works that have influenced us, things that we have done for the first time in the last several years, and locations (the more detailed the better). These categories were used as jumping off points for black outs and sketch ideas that consumed most of the rest of our class time.
We began by being divided in groups to work on three black outs. I was grouped with two very funny and talented friends: Scott and Kristin. Writing in a group is usually a source of frustration for me, but working with these two this was a very energetic, fun, and smooth process. We targeted a news issue (gas prices), a social issue (corporate citizenship and so-called right to lifers), and a place (the Air & Water Show -- we could hear the planes during class). Dr. Evil made an appearance in our gas prices blackout, Kristin had a PTSD flip-out induced by the airborne war machines at the Air & Water Show, and Scott and got to play rabid corporate right-to-lifers. (Note to self: you are too angry; it scares people.) We received some classic advice from Tim after our corporation abortion blackout: kill the bad people because audiences want justice.
Siera, Mario, and Christine had a very funny blackout regarding Chik-Fil-A. Siera and Christine were two lesbian lovers having a kiss in outside a Chik-Fil-A. Mario was a conservative evangelical who was at Chik-Fil-A to show his support for its social stand and the company's free speech rights. Despite his foaming hatred of "gays" he gets turned on by the sight of two women getting it on. All we need is love, right?
Our sketch work had us shuffled into new groups with the goal of choosing a place off our list of suggestions and focussing on character, action, and support. Ryan, Christine, Casey, and I were working in a slaughterhouse in Chicago during the 1920s. This involved several accents. (We were mostly immigrants.)
Scott, VP, and Kristin had a funny scene involving a roommate (Kristin) coming to sleep in the same room as her roommate (VP) and her friend/stud-muffin Scott. She eventually climbs into bed with them because the floor is too uncomfortable. And things get very uncomfortable.
The last group was Mario, Dan, and Siera. The setting: Bangkok. The premise: Mario was an effeminate Thai man. Dan was trying to get his lesbian sister (Siera) this girly boy as a mail order husband. But actually, Dan and Mario had hooked up the night before. Mario's antics were super funny in this scene.
Tim's insights after these scenes was that trying to be funny in a scene can break down the support between the actors which then short circuits the scene's development. We just have to trust that the funny will happen because our scene partners are talented and funny people instead of forcing the funniness. A counterexample to that advice is that even with silly characters the scene can progress and develop when the actors are playing their characters with emotional truth.
We ended class as we usually do with montage work, but we had a twist: we used the suggestions from earlier in class. We had Bill Clinton at a roller park, Romney and Ryan hanging out at a hipster bar in Logan Square, a women's studies class, and wild west saloon whose proprietor is allergic to cats.
We had a great time this term, and I cannot wait for next term.
 |
| Tada! |
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Move, move, move
Yesterday we focussed on movement and action. Before we got to that, however, we had an extended warm-up exercise. We played the game "I know people who have...." The premise behind the game is this:
One person is in the middle, and everybody else in the class is seated around the middle person.
The person in the middle says something about him- or herself, but phrases that statement, "I know people who have...."
Anybody seated who has also had that experience has to get up and take a new seat and the person in the middle can snatch a seat. The person left standing is in the middle.
Confused? Here's an example:
A is in the middle and B, C, D, and E are seated.
A says, "I know people who have masturbated during their lifetime." Obviously, that statement is true of everybody in the group, so everybody scurries for a seat. B is the person left standing.
B then says, "I know people who were born in Michigan." B was born in Michigan, and so was C. So, C has to get up, B takes C's seat and C is in the middle.
C then says, "I know people who have had a jelly donut and chili dog with Mel Gibson and Paul Ryan. C is the only person in the group who has done this, so he remains standing and gets a round of applause from the group. (And, unfortunately, this factoid can't be shared with the public at large because what is said in the circle of truth stays in the circle of truth.)
So, we played this game for a good while, which was pretty cool from a class bonding perspective.
We then did montages. The goal was to practice juggling our variation of characters and not getting into a rut performing the same type of character. A highlight of this exercise was Mario as a teenager talking to one of his friends. Mario's mom had found his stash of pot and thought that he was suicidal, so his friend suggested killing Mario's mom. (As you do.) The murderous friend got tagged out for a new friend who was talking to Mario about how his mom was overreacting to think that just because she caught him masturbating, that he wasted to kill himself. The solution? Well, go into your mom's bed and whack off. (Duh.) That friend was tagged out for Mario's new friend: Geez, just because your mom caught you trying to hang yourself, she thinks you're suicidal. Mario's classic response: I know, was just doing that for a better orgasm. (Scene.)
Our work with action consisted of raising the action in the scene and going from space to space on the stage. The action is supposed to pull the actors from part of the stage to another (or even off stage). This makes sense. Action keeps the actors moving around the stage and the audience has something to look at. A scene with two people planted in the center of the stage talking for two minutes gets a little old and stale. In the sketch world, scenes like this are criticized as "talking heads." It's very easy to get trapped into writing a talking heads scene, and perhaps it's also easy to get bogged down with a talking heads improv scene when the actors are trying to focus on emotion of character traits too much. (In my experience (albeit limited), the main culprit in getting stuck in the talking heads muck is focussing too much on plot.)
All in all, it was a great class, even though it was far from being our funniest class. It's hard to believe that next week is the last of our eight weeks of tutelage with Tim.
One person is in the middle, and everybody else in the class is seated around the middle person.
The person in the middle says something about him- or herself, but phrases that statement, "I know people who have...."
Anybody seated who has also had that experience has to get up and take a new seat and the person in the middle can snatch a seat. The person left standing is in the middle.
Confused? Here's an example:
A is in the middle and B, C, D, and E are seated.
A says, "I know people who have masturbated during their lifetime." Obviously, that statement is true of everybody in the group, so everybody scurries for a seat. B is the person left standing.
B then says, "I know people who were born in Michigan." B was born in Michigan, and so was C. So, C has to get up, B takes C's seat and C is in the middle.
C then says, "I know people who have had a jelly donut and chili dog with Mel Gibson and Paul Ryan. C is the only person in the group who has done this, so he remains standing and gets a round of applause from the group. (And, unfortunately, this factoid can't be shared with the public at large because what is said in the circle of truth stays in the circle of truth.)
So, we played this game for a good while, which was pretty cool from a class bonding perspective.
We then did montages. The goal was to practice juggling our variation of characters and not getting into a rut performing the same type of character. A highlight of this exercise was Mario as a teenager talking to one of his friends. Mario's mom had found his stash of pot and thought that he was suicidal, so his friend suggested killing Mario's mom. (As you do.) The murderous friend got tagged out for a new friend who was talking to Mario about how his mom was overreacting to think that just because she caught him masturbating, that he wasted to kill himself. The solution? Well, go into your mom's bed and whack off. (Duh.) That friend was tagged out for Mario's new friend: Geez, just because your mom caught you trying to hang yourself, she thinks you're suicidal. Mario's classic response: I know, was just doing that for a better orgasm. (Scene.)
Our work with action consisted of raising the action in the scene and going from space to space on the stage. The action is supposed to pull the actors from part of the stage to another (or even off stage). This makes sense. Action keeps the actors moving around the stage and the audience has something to look at. A scene with two people planted in the center of the stage talking for two minutes gets a little old and stale. In the sketch world, scenes like this are criticized as "talking heads." It's very easy to get trapped into writing a talking heads scene, and perhaps it's also easy to get bogged down with a talking heads improv scene when the actors are trying to focus on emotion of character traits too much. (In my experience (albeit limited), the main culprit in getting stuck in the talking heads muck is focussing too much on plot.)
All in all, it was a great class, even though it was far from being our funniest class. It's hard to believe that next week is the last of our eight weeks of tutelage with Tim.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
The Ecstasy of Defeat
Birthday Face made its debut last night. We part of the Sketch CAGEMATCH! at Stage 773. Seven teams performing sketch comedy to win a coveted three week run in October.
The rules: each team had ten minutes to do their thing. After each team went, the audience members had to text their vote for their favorite team, and the team with the most votes wins. These competitions are won and lost by getting your friends to show up and vote. Spoiler alert: we lost.
Despite the defeat, this was a good experience. We tried out three new sketches. We were able to get all three completed in less then ten minutes (about ten seconds shy of ten minutes). And we were in a room of people who mostly didn't know us, and we got laughs.
We also got exposed to six other groups to see what other people are doing. The quality of the competition varied. Some pieces were too talky. Others were too heavy with their exposition. Some sketches took too long to get to the point. On the plus side, we also saw some very tight and funny stuff.
I thought we had a nice blend of material. We began with a zombie attack, then we had a heartbreaking unrequited love between a nerd and the robot sex doll he made, and we ended with an orgasm.
So, no free October run for us. Guess we'd better get to work on something new.
The rules: each team had ten minutes to do their thing. After each team went, the audience members had to text their vote for their favorite team, and the team with the most votes wins. These competitions are won and lost by getting your friends to show up and vote. Spoiler alert: we lost.
Despite the defeat, this was a good experience. We tried out three new sketches. We were able to get all three completed in less then ten minutes (about ten seconds shy of ten minutes). And we were in a room of people who mostly didn't know us, and we got laughs.
We also got exposed to six other groups to see what other people are doing. The quality of the competition varied. Some pieces were too talky. Others were too heavy with their exposition. Some sketches took too long to get to the point. On the plus side, we also saw some very tight and funny stuff.
I thought we had a nice blend of material. We began with a zombie attack, then we had a heartbreaking unrequited love between a nerd and the robot sex doll he made, and we ended with an orgasm.
So, no free October run for us. Guess we'd better get to work on something new.
Emotional Rescue
Yesterday in Conservatory, we worked with emotions. We did a whopping amount of work with emotion.
Tim coached us to be emotionally honest. In fact, he's offered that advice several times during this course. (Perhaps it's important.) One of his insights was that truth, honesty, and realism make for good theatre. In doing our scene work yesterday, he encouraged us to play characters close to who we are in real life. However, this doesn't necessarily mean that we react to situations as we would in real life. For example, an audience connects with people standing up for themselves. And standing up for oneself may not seem like "yes, and..." but it still affirms your scene partner's choice when you move the scene forward.
We spent a considerable amount of time coming up with a list of words to describe a spectrum of emotions. We covered the following basic fields: Love, Anger, Fear (both normal and abnormal), Happiness, and Sadness. No, I'm not listing the words here. Use the aforementioned word, grab a thesaurus, and make your own damned list.
In working with the emotions, our goal is to physicalize these emotions without saying the word. Saying the word dispels its power. Tim's goal for us is to get us to be emotionally mobile as actors, truthful with our emotions, and able to change emotions with the scene. Most of the trick in accomplishing this goal is figuring out what your scene partner wants. That being said, we were warned about hidden objectives in a scene because they can throw things off kilter if and when they aren't picked up by our scene partners.
As usual, we did an extensive amount of three person scenes. We also did some five person scenes.
In the three person scenes, we had pretty funny one where VP and Christine were sisters who pushed Scott (Christine's husband) to the breaking point. The poor guy's epic Labor Day weekend was ruined, but he got to have his barbecue during the five person scenes. He played a roided-out suburban dad who intimidated his daughter's new boyfriend by lifting a huge barbecue grill -- while it was cooking steaks.
Jesus Christ, is that all I have from yesterday? Making that list of words took up a lot of time.
Tim coached us to be emotionally honest. In fact, he's offered that advice several times during this course. (Perhaps it's important.) One of his insights was that truth, honesty, and realism make for good theatre. In doing our scene work yesterday, he encouraged us to play characters close to who we are in real life. However, this doesn't necessarily mean that we react to situations as we would in real life. For example, an audience connects with people standing up for themselves. And standing up for oneself may not seem like "yes, and..." but it still affirms your scene partner's choice when you move the scene forward.
We spent a considerable amount of time coming up with a list of words to describe a spectrum of emotions. We covered the following basic fields: Love, Anger, Fear (both normal and abnormal), Happiness, and Sadness. No, I'm not listing the words here. Use the aforementioned word, grab a thesaurus, and make your own damned list.
In working with the emotions, our goal is to physicalize these emotions without saying the word. Saying the word dispels its power. Tim's goal for us is to get us to be emotionally mobile as actors, truthful with our emotions, and able to change emotions with the scene. Most of the trick in accomplishing this goal is figuring out what your scene partner wants. That being said, we were warned about hidden objectives in a scene because they can throw things off kilter if and when they aren't picked up by our scene partners.
As usual, we did an extensive amount of three person scenes. We also did some five person scenes.
In the three person scenes, we had pretty funny one where VP and Christine were sisters who pushed Scott (Christine's husband) to the breaking point. The poor guy's epic Labor Day weekend was ruined, but he got to have his barbecue during the five person scenes. He played a roided-out suburban dad who intimidated his daughter's new boyfriend by lifting a huge barbecue grill -- while it was cooking steaks.
Jesus Christ, is that all I have from yesterday? Making that list of words took up a lot of time.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
We did extensive character work in Conservatory today. In practice, this consisted of doing scenes in accents. At least for this week. Last week, we also did some character work at the start of class, but accents weren't necessarily part of the package.
Trying to improv a character is hard yakka. It isn't necessarily easy when writing, but the risk of getting it wrong on the page is less immediate or painful than getting it wrong on stage. In fact, the process that goes into writing a good character for a sketch is in many ways the opposite of improvising: it's calculated. When a character is written for a sketch (or a sketch is written for an existing character), the character's foibles, wants, and needs are usually carefully and meticulously plotted out by the writer beforehand. A very detailed character profile may include traits or details that never even find their way into the sketch, they just help the author add depth to the character that's in the scene.
In improv, on the other hand, we're encouraged to keep our mind open until the instant that we get on stage. We're meant to initiate our character or our scene after we step out instead of thinking five moves ahead before doing so. Again, it's tough. The task is made all the more daunting when trying to navigate those channels in an accent that you may or may not be able to pull off well. Of course, half the fun with accents in comic sketches can be when they're done poorly. (I'm thinking of Andy Samberg's atrocious attempt at an Australian accent as Hugh Jackman -- when the real Hugh Jackman was onstage with him.)
In class yesterday, we had Australian accents, English accents, German accents, Indian accents (as in the subcontinent), and southern accents. A highlight was Siera and Casey's scene set in an English convenience store with Scott as a Yank tourist (complete with fanny pack) who had his banger pointed at by Casey's take on a homophobic English git.
We were encouraged/told/directed/ordered to bring energy and emotion to the scene because we owe it to the scene. That recommendation comes with a word of caution: if this emotion or energy is too over the top, you will be scolded.
An insightful tidbit from yesterday was that scenes fall apart when one or more of the actors panic and think "this is comedy, I have to fuck it up." Yeah, it gets fucked up, but all-too-often it gets fucked up in the sense that that it doesn't work.
We concluded with montage work and ended the class with a wedding scene involving the entire class. the groom was having an asthma attack and his best man had to keep administering his inhaler to him during the vows. The bride had a nasty bout of eczema afflicting her skull and her maid of honor had to keep scratching her head for her. They lived happily ever after.
Trying to improv a character is hard yakka. It isn't necessarily easy when writing, but the risk of getting it wrong on the page is less immediate or painful than getting it wrong on stage. In fact, the process that goes into writing a good character for a sketch is in many ways the opposite of improvising: it's calculated. When a character is written for a sketch (or a sketch is written for an existing character), the character's foibles, wants, and needs are usually carefully and meticulously plotted out by the writer beforehand. A very detailed character profile may include traits or details that never even find their way into the sketch, they just help the author add depth to the character that's in the scene.
In improv, on the other hand, we're encouraged to keep our mind open until the instant that we get on stage. We're meant to initiate our character or our scene after we step out instead of thinking five moves ahead before doing so. Again, it's tough. The task is made all the more daunting when trying to navigate those channels in an accent that you may or may not be able to pull off well. Of course, half the fun with accents in comic sketches can be when they're done poorly. (I'm thinking of Andy Samberg's atrocious attempt at an Australian accent as Hugh Jackman -- when the real Hugh Jackman was onstage with him.)
In class yesterday, we had Australian accents, English accents, German accents, Indian accents (as in the subcontinent), and southern accents. A highlight was Siera and Casey's scene set in an English convenience store with Scott as a Yank tourist (complete with fanny pack) who had his banger pointed at by Casey's take on a homophobic English git.
We were encouraged/told/directed/ordered to bring energy and emotion to the scene because we owe it to the scene. That recommendation comes with a word of caution: if this emotion or energy is too over the top, you will be scolded.
An insightful tidbit from yesterday was that scenes fall apart when one or more of the actors panic and think "this is comedy, I have to fuck it up." Yeah, it gets fucked up, but all-too-often it gets fucked up in the sense that that it doesn't work.
We concluded with montage work and ended the class with a wedding scene involving the entire class. the groom was having an asthma attack and his best man had to keep administering his inhaler to him during the vows. The bride had a nasty bout of eczema afflicting her skull and her maid of honor had to keep scratching her head for her. They lived happily ever after.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Geburtstaggesicht
You can't keep a good team down.
We are hard at work on our next project: Sketch Cagematch on Saturday, August 4, 2012 at 10:00 p.m.
This will be a ten minute gig with 3(!) sketches crammed into that time. We'll be competing against other sketch revues for the prize: a four-show run in October. So, we need all of you reading this to come to Stage 773 on August 4, love our gig, and vote for us to win the competition. Yes, all of you reading this -- we'd love to see our Russian fans. And we'd love to see whoever is responsible for our three page views from Israel during this past week. Come one, come all.
We've got a sketch from Laura, a sketch from Shane, and a sketch from our Duke of Whacky, Mark. All sketches are entirely new material in that they haven't been staged before. We also have a new name. (It's disguised in this blog entry. Happy hunting!)
We've brought back some of our favorite actors: Sam, Michelle, and Brigid. And -- this will be the triumphant return to the stage for me and Dan.
It's interesting going back to doing this on our own. More work. Less swanky rehearsal space. More discussions about what looks right in a sketch, what doesn't, and whether we should go with tested material or entirely new material. That said, I think we've learned to be more open as a group about material that works and that which doesn't. We've emerged from this last show as a better, more professional group.
And we're gonna keep making funny.
We are hard at work on our next project: Sketch Cagematch on Saturday, August 4, 2012 at 10:00 p.m.
This will be a ten minute gig with 3(!) sketches crammed into that time. We'll be competing against other sketch revues for the prize: a four-show run in October. So, we need all of you reading this to come to Stage 773 on August 4, love our gig, and vote for us to win the competition. Yes, all of you reading this -- we'd love to see our Russian fans. And we'd love to see whoever is responsible for our three page views from Israel during this past week. Come one, come all.
We've got a sketch from Laura, a sketch from Shane, and a sketch from our Duke of Whacky, Mark. All sketches are entirely new material in that they haven't been staged before. We also have a new name. (It's disguised in this blog entry. Happy hunting!)
We've brought back some of our favorite actors: Sam, Michelle, and Brigid. And -- this will be the triumphant return to the stage for me and Dan.
It's interesting going back to doing this on our own. More work. Less swanky rehearsal space. More discussions about what looks right in a sketch, what doesn't, and whether we should go with tested material or entirely new material. That said, I think we've learned to be more open as a group about material that works and that which doesn't. We've emerged from this last show as a better, more professional group.
And we're gonna keep making funny.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Black Out
Yesterday's Conservatory class began with the usual warm ups. We were missing one of our classmates, but we had a guy from another Conservatory time slot, Trevor, in our class for the day. He was a very high energy guy.
We spent our early scene work in class trying to develop characters. I took a punt on a character that I've been working on that's actually based on a friend of mine. I always feel kind of wrong when I base a comic character on somebody who's a friend. (I feel even worse when it doesn't get any laughs. That proves that I'm a selfish bastard.)
The remainder of class was different from any improv class I've ever taken. We wrote. I understand that eventually in Conservatory, the goal is to develop a sketch show inspired by improv. As part of that education, we'll eventually learn to write sketches by being introduced to the common styles of sketches and reading archived material. Basically, the stuff they teach you over the course of a year and six courses in the writing program.
Interestingly, our introduction to writing was blackouts. We didn't do blackouts until writing three. We also attempted to write our black outs in groups of three. This inevitably leads to chaos. Ideas get spit out as fast as possible, and it's damn hard to keep up or even spend a decent amount of time distilling an idea. I was tempted to just steal some of the ones that I had already written. I was even more tempted to steal some of the blackouts that Mark has written. (Hey, that's a compliment to Mark.)
Ultimately, we had four groups of three people attempting to write six blackouts each. Three of these were meant to be topical/news related and three were meant to be almost anything. Tim actively encouraged us to be bawdy, raunchy, and borderline stereotypical in our content. He later explained that blackouts are an outlet for all of the bottom of one's intelligence, smutty, going-blue tendencies that funny people are often prone to indulging. And that perfectly explains why blackouts are so difficult and so hit or miss. When we had an entire class of sharing blackouts in writing three, Joe was satisfied in our output because "we had a couple good ones and even more that stunk up the joint."
I don't think we were told about the rule of ten yesterday: out of ten ideas that you have, you're doing well if one of them hits the mark. Yesterday was no different. Some were good, more were bombs, and others were just pedestrian. Still, when you're writing these amongst friends, the terrible ones are actually as much fun as the good ones. So, we got some good laughs out of this exercise.
The end of the class we tried to develop a sketch idea using a historical time period as our reference to make a comment about current events or something that is as true today as it was yesterday. It would've been cool if we had had time to review some archival material as examples, but we didn't have time. We were split into two groups of six each for this exercise and did not have a very long to try to come up with a sketch idea. I'm curious to see if we come back to this in future classes.
Some highlights from yesterday: Kristin had multiple improv orgasms in class. One resulting from Fifty Shades of Grey and the other resulting from apple strudel. One blackout involved people on a train getting jostled into each other that culminated in all of them groping each other. There was also a shoot-out at a cupcake store. Poor Scott was inadvertently cock-punched. (Occupational hazard.) Oh, and Tim declared that I am crazy. I'm taking that as a compliment.
We spent our early scene work in class trying to develop characters. I took a punt on a character that I've been working on that's actually based on a friend of mine. I always feel kind of wrong when I base a comic character on somebody who's a friend. (I feel even worse when it doesn't get any laughs. That proves that I'm a selfish bastard.)
The remainder of class was different from any improv class I've ever taken. We wrote. I understand that eventually in Conservatory, the goal is to develop a sketch show inspired by improv. As part of that education, we'll eventually learn to write sketches by being introduced to the common styles of sketches and reading archived material. Basically, the stuff they teach you over the course of a year and six courses in the writing program.
Interestingly, our introduction to writing was blackouts. We didn't do blackouts until writing three. We also attempted to write our black outs in groups of three. This inevitably leads to chaos. Ideas get spit out as fast as possible, and it's damn hard to keep up or even spend a decent amount of time distilling an idea. I was tempted to just steal some of the ones that I had already written. I was even more tempted to steal some of the blackouts that Mark has written. (Hey, that's a compliment to Mark.)
Ultimately, we had four groups of three people attempting to write six blackouts each. Three of these were meant to be topical/news related and three were meant to be almost anything. Tim actively encouraged us to be bawdy, raunchy, and borderline stereotypical in our content. He later explained that blackouts are an outlet for all of the bottom of one's intelligence, smutty, going-blue tendencies that funny people are often prone to indulging. And that perfectly explains why blackouts are so difficult and so hit or miss. When we had an entire class of sharing blackouts in writing three, Joe was satisfied in our output because "we had a couple good ones and even more that stunk up the joint."
I don't think we were told about the rule of ten yesterday: out of ten ideas that you have, you're doing well if one of them hits the mark. Yesterday was no different. Some were good, more were bombs, and others were just pedestrian. Still, when you're writing these amongst friends, the terrible ones are actually as much fun as the good ones. So, we got some good laughs out of this exercise.
The end of the class we tried to develop a sketch idea using a historical time period as our reference to make a comment about current events or something that is as true today as it was yesterday. It would've been cool if we had had time to review some archival material as examples, but we didn't have time. We were split into two groups of six each for this exercise and did not have a very long to try to come up with a sketch idea. I'm curious to see if we come back to this in future classes.
Some highlights from yesterday: Kristin had multiple improv orgasms in class. One resulting from Fifty Shades of Grey and the other resulting from apple strudel. One blackout involved people on a train getting jostled into each other that culminated in all of them groping each other. There was also a shoot-out at a cupcake store. Poor Scott was inadvertently cock-punched. (Occupational hazard.) Oh, and Tim declared that I am crazy. I'm taking that as a compliment.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
An End to Awkardness
Last night was the final show. Four up, four down.
As usual, the crowd laughed in all the spots they were meant to laugh. I tracked the laughs for each show, and the crowd reaction was remarkably consistent. Some nights certain jokes were better received than others, but we didn't have a situation where something just bombed one night and killed on another night. I'm sure that will happen eventually.
My perch for the show was off to the side. My big sister came to town to catch the show, and I had a clear view of her. I have to admit that watched her a fair amount to see if she was liking what was happening. I was especially pleased that she laughed heartily at the luridly pedophilic tunes in "Crossroads." Dark humor runs in my family, so I wasn't surprised.
We got a treat in the audience member that Brigid and Michelle summoned for "Earthwads." He is a friend of Dan's and does a fair amount of acting, so he gave some good lines that gave Brigid and Michelle lots to work with.
As the show came to a close with Brigid, Michelle, and Janna in a soufflé of lesbianic tyranny, our run as student writers at the Second City came to an end. I can't say that there was any feeling of misty-eyed emotion that accompanied the end of the show. The seven of us who began together in Writing One have put on a show together in March, and we've got future projects in the works. So, we damn well that we'll be seeing more of each other. We just have less structure for the time being.
Still, an ending calls for a look back. Dan, Mark, Laura, Ben, Shane, Angela, and I began this journey in May 2011 -- all strangers. We were in a class with several others -- including the infamous "Buff Guy and Old Dude." Buff Guy and Old Dude worked for some start up or some other vaguely defined but purportedly impressive business venture. Their stated purpose in taking Writing One was to get ideas for their business. Or something. Anyway, I think they were paired with Mark for an early exercise. They are probably making millions at this very instant off a sex doll made of pancakes that tells poop jokes. (All of which are things that Mark holds very dear.)
We really didn't start to hang out after class until late May 2011. It soon became an extension of class where most of us would adjourn at Corcoran's or the Old Town Ale House and b.s., spitball ideas, and run through moments in class that we really liked. Social gatherings soon followed. Late last summer we were having a cookout when our friend Mary told us she had an in to put on a show at Gorilla Tango. In November and December, we began planning that show and all seven of us took the term off because Laura had too much work-related travel during November and couldn't take Writing Four at that time.
As a result of our show, we were introduced to several talented actors. We also were introduced to several talented writers when we had our massive Writing Four class. That is when Brian joined the fray. From there, the eight writers who wrote "This is Going to be Awkward" built our show together. It's been a Hell of a ride. We had a great cast party at Shane and Natalie's last night. We drank, laughed, and stuffed ourselves with tasty food.
This has been a very wonderful experience. Thanks.
As usual, the crowd laughed in all the spots they were meant to laugh. I tracked the laughs for each show, and the crowd reaction was remarkably consistent. Some nights certain jokes were better received than others, but we didn't have a situation where something just bombed one night and killed on another night. I'm sure that will happen eventually.
My perch for the show was off to the side. My big sister came to town to catch the show, and I had a clear view of her. I have to admit that watched her a fair amount to see if she was liking what was happening. I was especially pleased that she laughed heartily at the luridly pedophilic tunes in "Crossroads." Dark humor runs in my family, so I wasn't surprised.
We got a treat in the audience member that Brigid and Michelle summoned for "Earthwads." He is a friend of Dan's and does a fair amount of acting, so he gave some good lines that gave Brigid and Michelle lots to work with.
As the show came to a close with Brigid, Michelle, and Janna in a soufflé of lesbianic tyranny, our run as student writers at the Second City came to an end. I can't say that there was any feeling of misty-eyed emotion that accompanied the end of the show. The seven of us who began together in Writing One have put on a show together in March, and we've got future projects in the works. So, we damn well that we'll be seeing more of each other. We just have less structure for the time being.
Still, an ending calls for a look back. Dan, Mark, Laura, Ben, Shane, Angela, and I began this journey in May 2011 -- all strangers. We were in a class with several others -- including the infamous "Buff Guy and Old Dude." Buff Guy and Old Dude worked for some start up or some other vaguely defined but purportedly impressive business venture. Their stated purpose in taking Writing One was to get ideas for their business. Or something. Anyway, I think they were paired with Mark for an early exercise. They are probably making millions at this very instant off a sex doll made of pancakes that tells poop jokes. (All of which are things that Mark holds very dear.)
We really didn't start to hang out after class until late May 2011. It soon became an extension of class where most of us would adjourn at Corcoran's or the Old Town Ale House and b.s., spitball ideas, and run through moments in class that we really liked. Social gatherings soon followed. Late last summer we were having a cookout when our friend Mary told us she had an in to put on a show at Gorilla Tango. In November and December, we began planning that show and all seven of us took the term off because Laura had too much work-related travel during November and couldn't take Writing Four at that time.
As a result of our show, we were introduced to several talented actors. We also were introduced to several talented writers when we had our massive Writing Four class. That is when Brian joined the fray. From there, the eight writers who wrote "This is Going to be Awkward" built our show together. It's been a Hell of a ride. We had a great cast party at Shane and Natalie's last night. We drank, laughed, and stuffed ourselves with tasty food.
This has been a very wonderful experience. Thanks.
 |
| They're up to no good. |
 |
| How does that go, again? |
 |
| AMPED! |
 |
| Mr. Sherbet Trousers himself. |
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| Fla-la-la-la-la. Lalalala. |
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| Ebony and Ivory, living together in perfect harmony. |
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| These fuckin' guys. |
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| The Graduate. |
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| This is how you control an alien hand. |
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| Fuck you, too. |
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| How Brian looks through beer goggles. |
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| Birthday Face. |
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| Before he did a strip tease as Woody Woodpecker. |
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Clique It
Yesterday in Conservatory, Tim introduced us to the concept that having teams or sub-groups within an ensemble is OK. This is a good lesson to get out of the way early in a class of twelve. (I was correct after all. Our class has twelve people in it, not eleven.) He introduced us to that concept during our warm up. He then had us do an extended exercise where we struck poses and took turns and then had us group together to make scenes from our poses, sometimes in groups of two, there, four, etc. That was pretty cool.
A theme throughout yesterday's class was playing scenes at the top of our intelligence and being emotionally truthful to the situation. Part and parcel of that concept is acting. Yes, acting in the true sense of a scene instead of trying to blow things up by trying to be funny for the sake of funny. This sounds beginnerish, but it's a trap that experienced improvisers fall into all the time. Hell, I was in a scene yesterday where I made the beginner mistake of making the scene too much about the action or the object work that I was doing. You'd think after a year of doing this several hours each week that wouldn't happen, but it did.
Tim also shared with us an overall suggestion for our scenes in that we should try to get to the "who" with our scene partner instead of concentrating too much on the "what" within the scene. Too often improvisers get caught up with plot in the scene. That's when things get forced and you try to be funny for the sake of it.
That's all I got for today. I've got a dog to walk and phlegm to cough up. (Having a cold in July really sucks.)
A theme throughout yesterday's class was playing scenes at the top of our intelligence and being emotionally truthful to the situation. Part and parcel of that concept is acting. Yes, acting in the true sense of a scene instead of trying to blow things up by trying to be funny for the sake of funny. This sounds beginnerish, but it's a trap that experienced improvisers fall into all the time. Hell, I was in a scene yesterday where I made the beginner mistake of making the scene too much about the action or the object work that I was doing. You'd think after a year of doing this several hours each week that wouldn't happen, but it did.
Tim also shared with us an overall suggestion for our scenes in that we should try to get to the "who" with our scene partner instead of concentrating too much on the "what" within the scene. Too often improvisers get caught up with plot in the scene. That's when things get forced and you try to be funny for the sake of it.
That's all I got for today. I've got a dog to walk and phlegm to cough up. (Having a cold in July really sucks.)
Da Turd
"Da Turd." That doesn't mean we laid a turd last might. It means that last night's show was "the third." But if you the "the third" in an over-the-top Chicago accent, you get "da Turd." So there.
One might say that's an awkward way to begin this post, but "awkward" is the name of the game for us. It's IN the title, for fuck's sake. So, yeah, show three.
The show feels like a well-oiled machine at this point. That should bode well for the fourth show, which is closing night. So, COME OUT AND SEE THE SHOW NEXT FRIDAY, OR YOU'RE SHIT OUT OF LUCK!
The actors met at 7:30 to run through lines, and I showed up about 8:30 to hang out with them as they prepare. I like seeing this process, but it dawned on me that maybe it's kind of creepy.
I think maybe I do it because I've acted with half the cast before: Michelle, Sam, and David. All three are very great people to have around when you want to expel nervous energy. Even as a writer, I feel nervous energy before a show. I know that the actors will portray the words and the scene in the best way possible, but if the jokes fall flat or the scene fundamentally isn't funny, it's on me as a writer. I still think that way before every show, it makes me nervous, and spending time with the actors before they go on helps to quell that anxiety. Thanks, thespians.
The actors began to do a very cool thing before the show as a warm-up. They were in a circle, and began to pass a ball around and whoever had the ball had to say something positive about the others in the circle. Unfortunately, it had to be truncated to the person with the ball saying something nice about the person from whom they received the ball. (This exercise began five minutes before show time.) Nevertheless, this was a very cool exercise before going on.
On that note, I think I'll take a break from listing my highlights from last night's show. If I had the ball in my hand and had to look around the room at the people who've been a part of this process, I would say:
Michelle: I've had the pleasure of seeing you bring life to characters that I've written, and I've also had the privilege of sharing the stage with you. You bring physicality and depth to roles and scenes that could easily fall flat as boring conversations. Anybody can look like a good actor with you on stage because you initiate with your fellow actors in a way that is convincing and seamless. I will always laugh whenever I hear a Melissa Etheridge song because of you.
Detroit Angie: You are a dynamo of funny scene ideas, and you also have the skill to actually turn funny ideas into funny scenes. (Hey, that's easier said than done.) Your dedication to the group is an inspiration to us all, and you're an awesome friend to boot. You've written funny conventional scenes, and you've come up with some asinine stuff that has left us with our sides hurting. And, of course, you're just another example of why Detroit is awesome.
Andy: In a sketch show you still improvise in discreet ways that don't overshadow the scene but add to it and make it slightly different each week -- e.g. the antics with the baby in "Real Version," the tie rolling out of your mouth as vomit (or a tongue?) in Wild Wild West, and the awesome whiteboy dancing in The Big Dance. Also, the different voices really inform and change your characters.
Benhur: It's not fair that you have such a wide comedic range. In both of our shows, you've consistently produced some of our strongest sketches, and they have been incredibly varied in their content. If I keep heaping praise on you, people may think I have a crush on you, so I'll stop.
Brigid: You are a force of nature. It's been informative watching the energy that you bring to the stage every week. Selfishly, I cannot thank you enough for injecting life into my sketch. When I wrote the sketch, I was worried that Gloria's character was garnish. But you're never garnish, and you made the entire scene better as result.
Dan: A great friend, a funny and talented writer, and a seriously awesome actor. Because of these varied talents, you made class fun in two ways -- you'd write a funny sketch, and then we'd get to see you act in several sketches each week and kill it. You are a magician at writing date scenes that go horribly wrong and scenes that lampoon self important dickheads. And, of course, you gave us writers the phrase, "Jeezers Peezers."
Sam: You go after your roles with passion. It shows in how freakishly fast you get off book and in how you dissect your contribution to the scene afterwards. You also have a very broad range as an actor: a superhero, a Zorro-esque Lothario, a folksy farm boy with delusions of grandeur, an oversexed husband losing his shit at a wedding, and a cross-dressing teenage boy from the upper crust. But damn it all if you aren't funnier off stage.
Mark: You are a sick and depraved talentless hack. Give $50 to a hooker, lose your virginity, and move on. That is all.
Janna: You really do become your characters. Because of that, you deliver your lines in a very seamless and convincing way. Case in point: the object work that you do in Wild Wild West. In that scene, you keep your self busy with the business of the scene even when the action is elsewhere on stage. And then there is the motherly muttering that you do doing Original Jewish Mother, classic.
Laura: Two of our strongest sketches and yet you had at least three other submissions that easily could have been staged for this show. Not fair. I am especially envious of your ability to take incidents from your life and meld them into funny sketches. Yeah, you're alright for a University of Chicago egghead. No comment on your college football allegiance.
David: I'm so happy you're part of this show, and I miss being on stage with you. I was always impressed with your skill as an improviser, and you've nailed the sketch thang as well. The research and hard work you put into your roles shows, especially in the Alien Hand. I hope the future holds more opportunities for us to make funny together.
Brian: It's been fun getting to know you over the past several months. I still think that Anointing of the Sickos needs to be staged somewhere. Afterwards, we can have the best excommunication party ever! Seriously, you have a rare gift of being able to go to opposite ends of the innocence/offensive continuum. I envy that, and you made the show better as a result.
Joe: Yeah, the Big Cheese. Suppose I gotta play nice, or you'll blacklist me and I'll never be considered funny in the Great Lakes watershed ever again, right? Your vision as a director elevated our show, and taught us all so much through osmosis. You love your job, and I especially envy you for that. You made wonderful suggestions to our writing throughout this process, and you provided the necessary pat on the back when needed.
Shane: Our Bro-mance is long documented. I'll withhold further comment to as to avoid any speculation regarding the true nature of our friendship. I don't think our fans in Russia (or our wives) would be ready for that revelation.
Last Chance: BUY A TICKET
http://www.laughstub.com/secondcitychicago-skyboxtheater
Pre-Show Footage:
One might say that's an awkward way to begin this post, but "awkward" is the name of the game for us. It's IN the title, for fuck's sake. So, yeah, show three.
The show feels like a well-oiled machine at this point. That should bode well for the fourth show, which is closing night. So, COME OUT AND SEE THE SHOW NEXT FRIDAY, OR YOU'RE SHIT OUT OF LUCK!
The actors met at 7:30 to run through lines, and I showed up about 8:30 to hang out with them as they prepare. I like seeing this process, but it dawned on me that maybe it's kind of creepy.
I think maybe I do it because I've acted with half the cast before: Michelle, Sam, and David. All three are very great people to have around when you want to expel nervous energy. Even as a writer, I feel nervous energy before a show. I know that the actors will portray the words and the scene in the best way possible, but if the jokes fall flat or the scene fundamentally isn't funny, it's on me as a writer. I still think that way before every show, it makes me nervous, and spending time with the actors before they go on helps to quell that anxiety. Thanks, thespians.
The actors began to do a very cool thing before the show as a warm-up. They were in a circle, and began to pass a ball around and whoever had the ball had to say something positive about the others in the circle. Unfortunately, it had to be truncated to the person with the ball saying something nice about the person from whom they received the ball. (This exercise began five minutes before show time.) Nevertheless, this was a very cool exercise before going on.
On that note, I think I'll take a break from listing my highlights from last night's show. If I had the ball in my hand and had to look around the room at the people who've been a part of this process, I would say:
Michelle: I've had the pleasure of seeing you bring life to characters that I've written, and I've also had the privilege of sharing the stage with you. You bring physicality and depth to roles and scenes that could easily fall flat as boring conversations. Anybody can look like a good actor with you on stage because you initiate with your fellow actors in a way that is convincing and seamless. I will always laugh whenever I hear a Melissa Etheridge song because of you.
Detroit Angie: You are a dynamo of funny scene ideas, and you also have the skill to actually turn funny ideas into funny scenes. (Hey, that's easier said than done.) Your dedication to the group is an inspiration to us all, and you're an awesome friend to boot. You've written funny conventional scenes, and you've come up with some asinine stuff that has left us with our sides hurting. And, of course, you're just another example of why Detroit is awesome.
Andy: In a sketch show you still improvise in discreet ways that don't overshadow the scene but add to it and make it slightly different each week -- e.g. the antics with the baby in "Real Version," the tie rolling out of your mouth as vomit (or a tongue?) in Wild Wild West, and the awesome whiteboy dancing in The Big Dance. Also, the different voices really inform and change your characters.
Benhur: It's not fair that you have such a wide comedic range. In both of our shows, you've consistently produced some of our strongest sketches, and they have been incredibly varied in their content. If I keep heaping praise on you, people may think I have a crush on you, so I'll stop.
Brigid: You are a force of nature. It's been informative watching the energy that you bring to the stage every week. Selfishly, I cannot thank you enough for injecting life into my sketch. When I wrote the sketch, I was worried that Gloria's character was garnish. But you're never garnish, and you made the entire scene better as result.
Dan: A great friend, a funny and talented writer, and a seriously awesome actor. Because of these varied talents, you made class fun in two ways -- you'd write a funny sketch, and then we'd get to see you act in several sketches each week and kill it. You are a magician at writing date scenes that go horribly wrong and scenes that lampoon self important dickheads. And, of course, you gave us writers the phrase, "Jeezers Peezers."
Sam: You go after your roles with passion. It shows in how freakishly fast you get off book and in how you dissect your contribution to the scene afterwards. You also have a very broad range as an actor: a superhero, a Zorro-esque Lothario, a folksy farm boy with delusions of grandeur, an oversexed husband losing his shit at a wedding, and a cross-dressing teenage boy from the upper crust. But damn it all if you aren't funnier off stage.
Mark: You are a sick and depraved talentless hack. Give $50 to a hooker, lose your virginity, and move on. That is all.
Janna: You really do become your characters. Because of that, you deliver your lines in a very seamless and convincing way. Case in point: the object work that you do in Wild Wild West. In that scene, you keep your self busy with the business of the scene even when the action is elsewhere on stage. And then there is the motherly muttering that you do doing Original Jewish Mother, classic.
Laura: Two of our strongest sketches and yet you had at least three other submissions that easily could have been staged for this show. Not fair. I am especially envious of your ability to take incidents from your life and meld them into funny sketches. Yeah, you're alright for a University of Chicago egghead. No comment on your college football allegiance.
David: I'm so happy you're part of this show, and I miss being on stage with you. I was always impressed with your skill as an improviser, and you've nailed the sketch thang as well. The research and hard work you put into your roles shows, especially in the Alien Hand. I hope the future holds more opportunities for us to make funny together.
Brian: It's been fun getting to know you over the past several months. I still think that Anointing of the Sickos needs to be staged somewhere. Afterwards, we can have the best excommunication party ever! Seriously, you have a rare gift of being able to go to opposite ends of the innocence/offensive continuum. I envy that, and you made the show better as a result.
Joe: Yeah, the Big Cheese. Suppose I gotta play nice, or you'll blacklist me and I'll never be considered funny in the Great Lakes watershed ever again, right? Your vision as a director elevated our show, and taught us all so much through osmosis. You love your job, and I especially envy you for that. You made wonderful suggestions to our writing throughout this process, and you provided the necessary pat on the back when needed.
Shane: Our Bro-mance is long documented. I'll withhold further comment to as to avoid any speculation regarding the true nature of our friendship. I don't think our fans in Russia (or our wives) would be ready for that revelation.
Last Chance: BUY A TICKET
http://www.laughstub.com/secondcitychicago-skyboxtheater
Pre-Show Footage:
 |
| Family Sing-A-Long |
 |
| The Guitar Man |
 |
| Andy |
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| Sam |
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| Family Sing-A-Long #2 |
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| Brigid & David -- Takin' it to Church |
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| Git Down! |
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| Programs. Duh. |
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| Men. Participating in Ball Play. |
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| He gets a shave with a straight razor before every show. |
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