Saturday, June 30, 2012

Conservatory: the beginning

Today was my first Conservatory class.  As far as I knew, there would be no familiar faces in this group, and that proved to be correct.  Twelve of us convened at the DeMaat Theater and made small talk before our instructor, Tim O'Malley, showed up at the appointed hour and began to mold us.  (Despite his Irish name, I thought he looked very vaguely like Bertolt Brecht -- that could be on account of his glasses.)

We actually stretched at the beginning of class.  That was a first for me.  We then did some warm-up games.  Particularly, we did one that had a purpose.  It was a word association game, but the premise was that we had to pick words that agreed with what we had been given before.  (Example: if "black" were the word, then a term that might "agree" with that could be "charcoal" or "eye" (black eye) or "coffee."  "White," on the other hand, would not be an agreement.)  In agreeing with the terms given, we could go back to a word that had already been said.  This was described as voting.  It was a difficult concept to grasp when it was explained, but as we played the game, it began to make sense.  This drill ended in a cool moment where we began with the word "strawberry" and eventually got onto the topic of things sexual with the word "orgasm" being introduced into the mix several times before one of our troupe members followed "orgasm" with "YES!"  That first "YES!" was all it took; everybody else followed suit, and that was the end of the game.

This class involved more theory and discussion than I've ever had in an improv class.  This isn't a criticism.  It was a change of pace and an indication (to me at least) that Conservatory is going to be more regimented -- not a big surprise.  Our scene work involved no two person scenes; we did three and four person scenes. That was a change from almost every class I've had before.  It just occurred to me, though, that our true scene work during the audition involved three people. Don't know the significance of that yet, but it may become clear in a few weeks.  There was also more side-coaching than other classes I've had.  It felt more like directing.  Again, another indication that the purpose of this program is more focused and professional than the level A through E classes.

Again, I didn't know any of my class mates, although a couple looked vaguely familiar from the corridors of the Second City's Piper's Alley complex.  I'm pretty excited though, because they seem like a good collection of people.

This Is Going to be Awkward: Opening Night

Tonight was opening night.  Finally. I don't know where to begin this post, but last week is probably a good place to start.

Last weekend we had our final rehearsals, and I think we had reached a point of self-doubt.  Self-doubt because the sketches no longer felt funny.  A few of us realized this was just funny fatigue, and recognized that we just needed to get our show in front of an audience.  Well, tonight we got our audience, our splendidly talented actors delivered, comedy was delivered, and laughs were paid in full.

Tonight had a different feeling to our Gorilla Tango show back in March.  For that show most of us were together for several hours before the show.  Today, it was more ad hoc.  I didn't even see the actors until a few minutes before the show.  Brian and I went back stage at the Skybox and hung with them before the curtain went up.  Personally, it was also a very different feeling this time around because I wasn't acting.  The nervous energy was markedly reduced by not acting.  My sketch is toward the end of the show, and whatever insecurities I may have about the script, I know that it's in great hands with Andy, Brigid, Dave, and Sam delivering the lines on stage.  So, this worrier felt pretty good and excited before the show began.  (This is a stark contrast to my feelings about the sketch I contributed to our show back in March.)

So, the show began.  The opening sequence looked great.  It really did.  As mentioned before, it was every actor on the stage in a freeze frame from the various sketches. As this sequence ended, the actors took their marks for the first sketch -- Laura's harrowing tale opt a date gone awry.  This is a very strong piece and was rightfully in the lead off spot.  We made a strong promise to the audience with this sketch: this is going to be a good show.  We delivered on that promise, as far as I'm concerned.

In previous post-show posts, I've given a somewhat exhaustive blow-by-blow of each piece and the crowd's reaction.  I'm not inclined to do that this time.  (It's tedious, and it's now 1:30 a.m. and I have my first conservatory class tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.)  One new thing that I did tonight was I took notes of where the laughs are in each sketch.  My wife gave me this idea because she heard that stand-ups do it.

For me, this exercise was fascinating, almost like taking score at a baseball game.  That sounds mega-nerdy, but hear me out: if you take score at a baseball game, you will pay more attention to the game than you otherwise would. You'll notice subtleties and nuances that may have otherwise escaped you.  Tonight I took crude notes of the phrase or action that preceded a good laugh from the audience. This information still needs to be processed (which will be the topic of a future post), but it will be interesting to see what crowds consistently laughed at, which jokes bombed, and which sequences may be loved by one audience but get no love from another audience.

Again, our actors did a phenomenal job tonight.  Getting back to my contribution to the show, I cannot say enough wonderful things about the life and energy they injected into my sketch.  My sketch began as something that was very "talking heads." (That is not a reference to the avant grade 80's band; "talking heads" is NOT how you want your work described in the sketch comedy world.)  These talented thespians dressed up my piece with accents, action, great timing, and wonderful chemistry.  I thank them.

And a funny (bad pun) thing happened tonight.  As I sat there watching the same sketches that I have seen over a dozen times in the past few weeks, the funny fatigue evaporated.  I was laughing and chuckling and chortling once again, even though I knew the jokes, the plot twists, and punchlines.  What a great feeling.

Pre- and post-show footage:

Fully-clothed and tasteful junk shot.

Yuk-Yuk-Yuk.

Slice of life. 

Oh yeah, up-jean action.

Milling about.

Scored me a backstage pass.

Pretty much sums up our weekends for about the past year.

Andy, Anne, and David.
So, the night concluded at the Old Town Ale House, which had an alarmingly high douche bag content tonight.  There was a feeling of relief as we drained pitchers of beer, and the remainder of this run will be great fun.  This is a great group of people.

Monday, June 25, 2012

T.E.C.H.


[Last night was our tech rehearsal.  Enjoy the following account from Mr. Mark "Marquis de Sade" Peters.]

John was too busy doing awesome things like BEING IN THE FREAKING SECOND CITY CONSERVATORY LIKE A GODDAMN ROCK STAR to attend our rehearsal Sunday night. [Not quite, but fuck it.] Thus, I am filling in for him this week, as a blogger, a historian, and a husband. [Wait?! What?!]

For myself—and Ben and Shane—the night began at the Old Town Ale House, where bourbon was sipped and tales were told of the days of old or whatever.

We then moved on to class for the final full rehearsal before the show, followed by the tech rehearsal. Unfortunately, one of our actors was sick. The actor in question was a lady, which led to much hilarity and horror as I subbed for her during the first run-through. For me, the highlights included being in a succubus sandwich with the lovely Brigid and Michelle, and then having my delicate hand licked by the piercing tongue of Sam. What the rehearsal lacked in progress, it made up for in ridiculousness, which was kinda beneficial to a somewhat stressed-out  group. For me, the pre-rehearsal bourbon proved to be a very good choice.

For tech, we got into the actual theater, and I passed the fill-in actor baton to Brian—a time traveler from the fifties, if you didn’t know—and sat in the booth with the techmeister (I forgot his name) and Laura (the soundmeister). The booth smelled like a combination of Jim Belushi’s ass and Tina Fey’s used tampons.

I’ve read Lorne Michaels likes to say, of Saturday Night Live, something like “The show doesn’t go on because it’s ready. It’s goes on because it’s 11:30.” We probably need to embrace that philosophy with this show. It ain’t gonna be perfect, but it should be good. At this point, we are so sick of the sketches that they seem as funny as a kitten raping a puppy. It will be good for these sketches to be heard by fresh ears.
Or as John’s sister likes to say, “You’re not a cop, are you?” [Damn you, Mark. I'm not even going to remark that either of my sisters could kick your ass, because you'd just beg me to make it happen.]

[Read more of Mark's sweet nothings at http://wordlust.blogspot.com/. If you're a woman (or reasonably passable she-male), please knock his boots.  He needs it.]

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Heilige Scheiße! We open in one week.

We open in less than one week.  Gulp.

Yesterday's rehearsal felt a bit tense.  At least it felt tense from where I sat, but I'm feeling pretty tense at the moment.  So, there could be some distortion in how I view things.

We ran through everything from start to finish in the running order that we'll most likely use for the show.  We ran it complete with songs, props, and sound effects -- oh my!

This also marked the first rehearsal since last week's bloodletting in which three sketches were cut.  The casualties were: Relation Shipwrecked, Anointing of the Sickos, and Therapy (aka "the talking penis sketch").   We had to cut things for time.  Chopping off the penis sketch was an easy call.  I can say that because it was mine.  It had a very real danger of confusing the audience, and you can't have that.

We spent the first several minutes of class concocting an opening choreographed sequence with freeze frames from each sketch.  Seeing this on stage with the lighting will be pretty cool.

We then ran through every sketch.  At this point, we've been running through some of these sketches several times a week for eight weeks.  I think the tension comes from the fact that we've rehearsed some the pieces so many times, that everybody in that theater isn't laughing too much.  The lack of laughter -- I think -- makes people nervous that something that was funny several months ago no longer is.  Sitting here a day later, I know that's not true.  Still, we need to get the show in front of an audience to let others laugh at what we've created.

On balance, things appear to be in good shape.  Some kinks need to be ironed out, and that will be the point of our tech rehearsal and a few final walk-throughs.

Opening Night: Friday, June 30, 2012 at 9:00 p.m. at Donny's Skybox in Piper's Alley (North Ave. and Wells St.).

Yesterday's footage.

Lord of the Dance

Why?  Come to the show!

It's a long story.

Underlord of the Dance

They're into role playing.

They're also into role playing.

Pretty friggin' artistic, n'est-ce pas?

He's fixin' to charm the dungarees right off of her.


Oh, cripe.  Are they running my sketch again?

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Blah Blah Blah

Blah Blah Blah
Busy day yesterday, Blah Blah Blah.
Ran through everything Blah Blah Blah.
All the actors were there Blah Blah Blah.
They are funny and talented Blah Blah Blah.
The show is running too long Blah Blah Blah.
Scenes have to be cut Blah Blah Blah.
Three scenes got cut Blah Blah Blah.
Holy shit, we opened in two weeks and half of the scenes Blah Blah Blah.
Blah Blah Blah off book.
Waste of Blah Blah Blah.
Saw Scott Adsit yesterBlah Blah Blah.
Too bad, no pictures because Blah Blah Blah.

We have a poster Blah Blah Blah.

Enjoy. Blah Blah Blah.

Blah Blah Blah
If you can navigate a webpage, you may be able to figure out how to buy a ticket.
BLAH BLAH FUCKING BLAH.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Decimated Ranks

We were severely short-handed yesterday.  Three actors and two writers were absent, but we didn't let that stop us from having some fun.  Every sketch got a run through yesterday, and we had writers filling in for actors in every sketch.

Yours truly got to take a stab at every sketch yesterday.  So, yesterday I got to be: an alien foot soldier who's a conscientious objector (of sorts), a woman on a first date with a man who has an exotic illness, a maniacal villain (with a German accent), a bumbling Slim Pickens cowboy, a succubus, a newlywed fleeing a sinking ship, a foghorn, an overbearing Jewish mother, an overbearing Catholic mother, an overbearing protestant mother, a nervous high school boy trying to work up his nerve for the big dance, a woman on a first date from hell, a mother with linguistic hang-ups, an alien commander who hates humanity (and jorts), and a reverend presiding over a same-sex marriage.  Whew.  Having that much fun in a couple hours should be illegal.  Oh, and Dave kissed another man yesterday.  His promiscuity is becoming less and less of a laughing matter.

I don't how useful yesterday was for blocking, but the actors at rehearsal are pretty much off-book by this point.  Things are coming along nicely at this point, and we get to start using props next week.  You know shit is getting real when toys are involved.

We are also compiling the music for the show.  I will be mega pissed if Ted Nugent's "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang" is not included.  Some Color Me Badd would also be nice.

I have no captures from yesterday's tomfoolery on stage because I left my camera in the car.  However, I do have one iPhone picture from the beginning of class:

Yes, it says "Michigan Sex Doll."
This was my present for getting accepted into the Conservatory.  Never has something so disgusting made me feel so loved.  The genesis of the term "Michigan Sex Doll" is a most crass inside joke.  No, I don't care to explain.  But what you are seeing is a watermelon stuffed with shaved salami.  I proudly paraded it through the streets of Old Town after class.  Some former fratboys seemed offended by this creation, no doubt they were having flash backs to suppressed memories of hazing rituals.


Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Neo-Conservatory

A break from sketch revue musings.

In addition to writing classes at the Second City, I also have taken improv classes there.  Levels A through E.  If you're not hip to the Second City hierarchy of classes, basic improv classes consist of five levels, and in Chicago, the levels are A through E.  At the conclusion of Level E, you can audition for the Conservatory, which currently consists of six levels.  If you complete the Conservatory, then you may actually get some sort of paying gig through the Second City.  (I understand that this can mean touring the country on and poking fun at other cities or performing on a boat where you make drunken newlyweds and pensioners laugh.)

So, anyhow, yours truly completed the five circles of improv classes at the end of April.  In theory, I could have auditioned at the end of March, but: (1) I'm a flake and didn't know about the sign up times for auditions, and (2) it was a very crazy time at my day job and a Friday off would have been ill-advised.  Fast forward to May, and sign-ups for auditions came around again.  I dutifully signed up and arranged to take Friday, June 1 off from work.  (I think there is more to do at work now than in late March, but oh well.  I arranged for the day off.)

Ideally, an one should have a theatre resume, a head shot, and the sense to arrive early for an audition. The resume was taken care of weeks ago, when a good friend let me plagiarize the format from her resume.  (She has much more acting experience than I do, so I had to dedicate a line to every theatrical thing I've done since age 18 -- including a playful choking of a Detroit sportscaster after Michigan lost a football game during my freshman year.  Fuck you, Kordell Stewart.) So, resume: check.

I was too busy with work to get to a session for a head shot in the past eight weeks, but I thought that I had decent pictures of my face and an ample supply of high quality photo paper at home. Wrong.  This paper did not exist.  I had to burn a CD and go to a Walgreen's near my house to print them out.  Bad idea. Walgreens' machine could not read my disc.  No can do.   I drove to Second City (already running late for my 2:00 p.m. time slot).  Traffic was so characteristically bad that I couldn't go to a proper camera/photo store to print my budget head shot.  I decided to try the Walgreen's across from Second City.  Again, the disc wasn't read.  I was pretty screwed because it was 1:50 and I was supposed to have arrived at 1:45 for my auction.  At this point, I was so desperate that I asked the Walgreen's person if a passport photo could be enlarged to 8 X 10.  Yes.  Yes!  I ran with that.  "Okay, that'll be ready in 30 minutes, sir." Huh? No, I don't need it then.  Forget about it.  (I was going to go the Ale House, give up, and just tie one on.)  They relented and printed me immediately.

I was on my way at 1:59 -- and arrived too late for my 2:00 slot.  Rightfully, my 2:00 p.m. slot was given to somebody off the wait list.  I was forced to wait to see if I could a wait list spot for 2:30.  I was so angry at myself.  Taking a day off from work when piles of paper need to be addressed. (Literal piles of paper.) Not having my head shot taken care of. Not bothering to pursue improv and sketch writing until I'm old enough to be a has-been.  And generally just angry at myself.

I listened to music while I waited and read a list of tips for good improv.  (A very pitiful form of cramming.)  I toyed with walking away and just getting tanked the entire time, but I knew I'd always regret going this far and then walking away.  I actually checked my work e-mail and responded to a few e-mails while I was waiting.  (Take that, fellow auditioners who just graduated from college.  I have a job.  A job that affects my mood, gives me gray hair, and disrupts my GI tract.  Jealous? You won't be in ten plus years.)

Well, I was the last guy allowed in for the 2:30 slot.  22 people auditioning for a slot in the Conservatory in Donny's Skybox. They had us go in groups of three.  So, I was the last guy and went in a group of three that consisted of two people who went earlier.  Our scene suggestion was "what's left of speed dating."  Me and two women.  I went smarmy.  One partner suggested with her first line that we get out of there.  An alarm went off in my head because that would kill the scene.  I thought of a way to stay and make them fight over me.  This culminated in me trying to convince two women that I was a wishbone and they had to pull me in half to "win" me and had their wish come true.  I sensed trepidation from my partners.  They would not try to rip my legs apart.  (They probably didn't want to hurt an old codger.)  So, that felt weird. Unlike a show, I really had no sense of whether others in the theatre were laughing.  I was relieved when they called "scene."

The final portion of the audition was "Freeze Tag."  I  hate freeze tag.  And the auditions are notorious for bad freeze tag because everybody wants to get as many looks as possible and they supposedly call freeze before you can get as much a facial expression out.  I only got involved twice, I think. Neither was memorable in my book. Oh well.  That was it. Audition over.

I walked out convinced that I would get a "Dear John" e-mail telling me whatever they tell you when you don't get in.  (I've received these many times from potential employers and grad schools.  I once received one that was dated two days before I interviewed! So, I was at least interested in how this rejection e-mail would be phrased.)  But here's the kicker -- I got an e-mail accepting me into the Conservatory.  I didn't see that coming.  So, ten dollar head shot, being late for designated slot, feeling defeatist up to the moment of walking in, shitty freeze tag -- it didn't harm me enough to keep me out.  Somebody must like wishbone humor.  (And I really hope that the lucky bitch or son of a bitch who got my 2:00 p.m. slot got accepted.)

What a weird mindfuck of a process, but I'm thrilled to get the chance to go further.

Yes, the rusty '79 El Camino of head shots:

An undated mugshot.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Skeleton Staff

Yesterday was a challenge.  We had three actors missing for most of the rehearsal.  As I was once told on a construction site: sometimes you just gotta piss with the dick you got.  That's exactly what we did.

We ran through a couple sketches that we hadn't blocked and hadn't run through in quite some time: Mark's "The P Word" and Benhur's "More than Enemies."  "Enemies" was a crowd favorite, and it is some very funny stuff.  One of the fun things about this process is when we block something for the first time.  The actors have their take on the movements their characters should have in the context of the script, Joe will have the actors try different things, and (every once in a while) we writers come up with something useful.  "Enemies" was one of those sketches where the suggestions were flying around, and the end result was pretty damn good.  We also saw Joe execute a perfect cartwheel.  Oh, yes, he did.

We also tried a new staging for Laura's "Original Jewish Mother."  This involved using a pillar that is off the stage.  Sorry, can't really divulge why needed to use this pillar, because that would give away too much.  It worked, and it will look even better when the lights are being adjusted during an actual show.  (During rehearsal, the pillar is in the shadows.)

Dan, wearing his shawl.

Some pillar action.

More pillar action.

Don't know the point of this picture.  Oh well.