Did that really happen? Did I really spend a couple hours yesterday sitting on TJ Jagodowski's comfy couch while asking him any question about improv I could cook up in my hungry, little brain?
Yeah. Yeah, I did.
While my dear friend Peter held the camera (cue the "bow chicka bow wow" music), TJ and I hung out in his living room together yesterday during our interview for my Geeking Out with.... series. For TJ and TJ alone, I made a rare exception to my practice of interviewing my subjects via online chat. Although I will think of various uses for the video (none of them including porn, I swear!), it really was just an ultra-safe way of recording the interview. I also recording it on my computer, just for double safety. The buttload of extra work transcribing the interview will be well worth it, however. TJ was charming, open, extraordinarily humble, and entirely poetic in his descriptions of his improv philosophies and experiences. When I asked, "How does your mom describe your job to her friends?" he called her to find out. And then during her loving description, he got a little choked up. That's some fine TJ TV right there, that's what that was folks.
But in all seriousness, I'm feeling overwhelmingly grateful for the opportunity to talk about this art from with my favorite improviser on the planet. What a huge, huge gift. Much gratitude abounds in my heart.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Not Fit for Normal Humans
Last night I realized that the iO Summer Intensive has rendered me unfit for normal human social interactions. Not realizing I had stepped outside the improv vortex, I hung out with five friends from high school. Despite a lovely dinner of laughter and margaritas, I felt distinctly out of step with them, like an Other faking my way through their ways but taking unintended missteps by over-sharing about blow jobs and vaginas. When they asked about my last three weeks and I would begin to wax ecstatically about my improv life, their eyes would seek out the nearest fire exits in a way one does when someone is talking about religion or Amway.
With the greatest relief, I soon plugged back into my Visibly Tight team outside the sculpted entrance of Second City where we were meeting before our set. I felt like a refuge who had finally found her way back home.
"They don't understand me," I clumsily tried to explain the outside world to my team. "It's scary out there. They hardly talk about improv at all!"
My teammates seemed confused for I believe they have forgotten the existence of the non-improv world. But we shrugged it off good naturedly, slipsliding back into the vortex together. Before long, we were warming up with improvised songs about Piero's room and organic opens and the constant stream of improv analysis upon which we feed. After a fun set at Second City, we hung out until the 1am "third set" show to watch some great improv while nursing a very strong vodka and soda. By 3am, we were singing and whooping it up, making funny-mostly-to-us in our private, little world. Home safe at last.
With the greatest relief, I soon plugged back into my Visibly Tight team outside the sculpted entrance of Second City where we were meeting before our set. I felt like a refuge who had finally found her way back home.
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| Visibly Tight at Second City after our set |
My teammates seemed confused for I believe they have forgotten the existence of the non-improv world. But we shrugged it off good naturedly, slipsliding back into the vortex together. Before long, we were warming up with improvised songs about Piero's room and organic opens and the constant stream of improv analysis upon which we feed. After a fun set at Second City, we hung out until the 1am "third set" show to watch some great improv while nursing a very strong vodka and soda. By 3am, we were singing and whooping it up, making funny-mostly-to-us in our private, little world. Home safe at last.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Favorite Susan Messing Quotes from the First "Group Pretty" Workshop
"Hello, lover." - how she greeting some people while taking attendance.
"...late to my vagina." - what she said to late arrivals
"This is stuff I made up while high in my tub." - intro. to exercises
"Holy fuck stick."
"Horny means hello."
"Symmetry gets me off."
"Fear and adrenaline causes mistakes, bitches."
"We do things slowly because we love watching the fucking process."
"I know you think that Harold fucks us. But we fuck Harold!" - making the point that we are in control and we need to initiate harder and push the agenda
And my favorite:
"A recycled mistake is your greatest fucking comic gift. When else does two wrongs make a right?"
"...late to my vagina." - what she said to late arrivals
"This is stuff I made up while high in my tub." - intro. to exercises
"Holy fuck stick."
"Horny means hello."
"Symmetry gets me off."
"Fear and adrenaline causes mistakes, bitches."
"We do things slowly because we love watching the fucking process."
"I know you think that Harold fucks us. But we fuck Harold!" - making the point that we are in control and we need to initiate harder and push the agenda
And my favorite:
"A recycled mistake is your greatest fucking comic gift. When else does two wrongs make a right?"
Friday, July 27, 2012
Smell It Touch It Taste It Feel It Fuck It: My Improv Life
Peter: See you at Second City for our set tonight? (He's referring to Visibly Tight's 10 minute set at the "Midnight Melt.)
Peter and Me (David too)
Me: I don't think I can make it.
Peter: Oh? What show are you seeing?
Me: The Inside of My Eyelids.
Peter: I don't know that show. Who's in it?
Me: It's a one-woman show, starring me.
This conversation, held in the few moments after my musical improv workshop got out and his began, perfectly sums up the state of our lives. If we're not learning about improv or talking about improv, we're performing it or watching it. There simply are no other options in this delicious Chicago life. The title of this post is a famous Susan Messing quote that has to do with staying in the moment. But really, I need to put the moment on pause.
I done run out of steam tonight. It's 7pm on Friday and all I can think about is getting my laundry done and going to bed. You know it's bad because I'm blowing off Visibly Tight's set at Second-fucking-City. This is a luxury I can allow because: 1.) It's only a ten minute set and there will about 9-10 players there already, 2.) We have a 20 minute set at 10:30pm at Second City tomorrow night, and wild horses couldn't keep me away from that bad boy! We're opening up for a student show at the de Maat Theatre at Second City.
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| Senja and Scott finding a fun way to endure Dave's long feedback on their scene |
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| Dave, giving feedback |
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| Ben, James, Cheslea, Christian |
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| David |
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| David, TJ & Tracy Letts |
That was Wednesday.
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| I include these two because they are porn shots of TJ and Dave making out |
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| More improv porn |
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| Tracy Letts feeling up TJ |
We returned to the theater on Thursday morning, our final day of Level Three with Dave Asher, with a renewed sense of unity, humor and vigor which spread the whole group, even those who were not able to make it to Peter's house the previous evening. We were able to laugh off the moments of tedium and take his feedback with a grain of salt, gratitude and compassion. We ended by very successfully performing two musical Harolds in which we surprised ourselves with our new-found skills and abilities.
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| Musical Harold |
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| I'm telling you, we do some weird shit (I love every second of it!) |
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| Stuart & me |
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| The "Dirty Girl/Boy" song Brilliant! |
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| Lyndsay playing a really weird, fucked up character Hilariously. |
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| "European" |
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| Her honest yoga teacher was our favorite |
Peter, Scott and I took the lull between the end of that show and the 10:30 show at iO to grab some drinks (I had another Flirtini! Yum! I'm officially in love.) and more heart-to-hearts. I love those guys. I really do. While we were there, we got an SOS call on our Facebook page from one of our members whose boyfriend dumped her unceremoniously via Skype that evening. (What a dick.) So we skittered down to iO to sit with her at the shows. We saw Michael Pizza and a great show called The Scene (with TJ!) who had a great structure that I need to see again so I can bring it back home because I think it will work well for our group. After the show, we commiserated at the theater's bar with our jilted friend.
I couldn't help but to notice TJ at his usual space at the bar. I have been trying to get up the courage to approach him, and even wrote him a message via FB that I wanted to introduce myself and ask him again if he'd be willing to let me interview him while he's in town. (He had begged off of the usual Geeking Out with... instant message procedure because he says he is a very slow typist. For him, I told him, I would make an exception.) If I haven't made it clear already, I love TJ Jagodowski's work, and I've only fallen even more in love with his work the more shows I see. He's so brilliant and such a flawless team player, and I have the world of admiration for him. He's quite literally the most skilled and generous improviser I've ever seen. It's like watching Monet paint. I finally got the nerve up to introduce myself - he's from western Mass., I've met some of his family, etc., so I had an intro. line.
As promised by people who know him, he was completely friendly, open and congenial. He invited me to hang with him out behind the theater so he could smoke a cigarette (ew), so I enjoyed a private audience with my most revered improviser on the planet. As I passed my friends, it was too much fun to exchange silent looks of, "OMG!" and "Shutthefrontdoor! Look at this shit!" as I trailed TJ out of the back of the theater. We sat side-by-side on the fire escape steps, shooting the shit for about 15 minutes. Of course, I was BEYOND thrilled to get to chat with him - despite the fact that I was blathering on like a big fucking IDIOT(omg, please teach me to shut up one of these days!) AND he agreed to let me interview him in person on Sunday. So now I am BEYOND beyond thrilled.
But that moment on the back steps of iO Theater sitting next to TJ Jagodowski. That was a moment to remember.
I'm loving the fact that we all feel so comfortable at the theater. I'll easily spend more time there than anywhere else in Chicago, including my own bedroom. For these five weeks, iO has become my home, and this familiarity fills my heart.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Visibly Tight's Cherry Has Been Popped
Tonight we had our first set as a group! We performed in a bar on N. Lincoln called The Horseshoe to a handful of people, including the Executive Director of the Chicago Improv Festival. (As I have aspirations of our group getting into CIF next year - mostly so we can reunite and have fun together again - I was hoping we would knock his socks off. Spoiler alert: We didn't...yet. He did, however, catch me taking a photo of my boobs with my phone, so at least there is that.)
Most folks seemed to have fun during our set, so that was important. But, no, it wasn't our finest set ever. Granted, "barprov" feels like hard work. But still, I had hoped we would hit it a little farther out into the field. We didn't suck. Definitely not. There was a TON of agreement and joy and yes-anding...but maybe not so much listening and trusting the people on stage to let the scene grow and breathe. We were nervous. It's okay. Better to get this set out of the way now than later in the week when we have not one but two sets at Second City. On Friday, we're at the "Midnight Melt," or something like that, at one of the training center theaters there at, of course, midnight. And on Saturday at 10:30 opening up for a show at the training center's de Maat Studio Theatre.
More performance, more better. Feed my monkey. Feed my monkey.
Most folks seemed to have fun during our set, so that was important. But, no, it wasn't our finest set ever. Granted, "barprov" feels like hard work. But still, I had hoped we would hit it a little farther out into the field. We didn't suck. Definitely not. There was a TON of agreement and joy and yes-anding...but maybe not so much listening and trusting the people on stage to let the scene grow and breathe. We were nervous. It's okay. Better to get this set out of the way now than later in the week when we have not one but two sets at Second City. On Friday, we're at the "Midnight Melt," or something like that, at one of the training center theaters there at, of course, midnight. And on Saturday at 10:30 opening up for a show at the training center's de Maat Studio Theatre.
More performance, more better. Feed my monkey. Feed my monkey.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Week Three, Day One - The Reign of Napoleon?
I have exactly ten minutes to give a lickety split update between my after-school shower (Hello??? It's 100 degrees in Chicago right now?! WTF?) and running out to see a friend's show....
We arrived at the theater today eager to discover who our Level Three teacher would be. Due to a weird last-minute change, nobody told us who we would get, so we went in blind and hopeful. Turns out it's the musical improv guy, Dave Asher. He's a little man with a big voice. Straight away, it was clear that he didn't hold back or sugar-coat his feedback. A far, far cry from our dear Level One teacher.
I have no doubt we have important and useful skills to learn from Dave. This is a chocked-full week in which we are meant to study the two-person scene, the cornerstone of improv. Though his feedback is harsh, he often makes good points albeit without grace or tact. For example, he told one pair today that their scene was "painful to sit through." (I wouldn't go that far, but it wasn't the best scene for sure.) He seems to be easier on women than men (which both relieves and angers me) and he plays favorites-of-the-day. One woman broke down in tears at one point in the afternoon which seemed to scare the dickens out of him. And worst of all, he pits people against each other by comparing scenes and players. This last one is a great concern to me as our groupmind and unusually high supportive vibe is what makes our group such a stand out.
Fortunately, he recognized the talent in our group. After only a couple hours, he said out loud that he would have to re-tool this week's curriculum in order to skip some stuff we didn't need and challenge us more. For all his bluster, unnecessary verbosity and tactlessness, he does have a very good eye. So I'll try to keep that in mind when he turns his fangs on me.
Personally, I had a good day as far as performance went. I did some good work. Believe it or not, the best scene I had was a musical, non-verbal (just musical noises) "singing" scene which he accompanied on the piano. Who would have guessed that, huh?!
We arrived at the theater today eager to discover who our Level Three teacher would be. Due to a weird last-minute change, nobody told us who we would get, so we went in blind and hopeful. Turns out it's the musical improv guy, Dave Asher. He's a little man with a big voice. Straight away, it was clear that he didn't hold back or sugar-coat his feedback. A far, far cry from our dear Level One teacher.
I have no doubt we have important and useful skills to learn from Dave. This is a chocked-full week in which we are meant to study the two-person scene, the cornerstone of improv. Though his feedback is harsh, he often makes good points albeit without grace or tact. For example, he told one pair today that their scene was "painful to sit through." (I wouldn't go that far, but it wasn't the best scene for sure.) He seems to be easier on women than men (which both relieves and angers me) and he plays favorites-of-the-day. One woman broke down in tears at one point in the afternoon which seemed to scare the dickens out of him. And worst of all, he pits people against each other by comparing scenes and players. This last one is a great concern to me as our groupmind and unusually high supportive vibe is what makes our group such a stand out.
Fortunately, he recognized the talent in our group. After only a couple hours, he said out loud that he would have to re-tool this week's curriculum in order to skip some stuff we didn't need and challenge us more. For all his bluster, unnecessary verbosity and tactlessness, he does have a very good eye. So I'll try to keep that in mind when he turns his fangs on me.
Personally, I had a good day as far as performance went. I did some good work. Believe it or not, the best scene I had was a musical, non-verbal (just musical noises) "singing" scene which he accompanied on the piano. Who would have guessed that, huh?!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Lyndsay Hailey-isms
There is no doubt my time with Lyndsay will influence and enhance my improv forevermore. Here is but a list of her special sauce. I hope I got most of this down correctly. I definitely interview Lyndsay in order to clarify all these points:
To limit the amount of narrative created and to focus your scenework, be true to what you have created in the first ten seconds of your scene. Lyndsay says, "You make a promise to the audience at the top of the scene, and you must honor it." There is a fear that one small topic - say lobsters - can't be explored for 25 minutes, but it can. We can spend 25 minutes, in fact, exploring the head of the lobster in the opening and another 25 minutes on a first date scene in which the guy is scared of boiling the lobster but doesn't want to let on to his date. "Dig deeper in the same ditch" means that you don't have to cast about to add more details and more narrative to your scene. Keep exploring what is right there - what you've created already - and you'll be amazed.
MAINTAIN EYE CONTACT
Holy shit. So simple, right? I cannot over-emphasize how important this tip is to good improv. Watch TJ & Dave. They almost never take their eyes off each other. There is the obvious benefit to eye contact, that if you're looking at someone you won't miss anything they do or say, but then there is a deeper level to not just looking at but seeing your scene partners. Employ this technique and your improvising will improve instantly. Fucking magic.
DIG DEEPER IN THE SAME DITCH
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| Lyndsay |
BRICK BY BRICK
While we are Digging Deeper in the Same Ditch, we're also building a scene Brick by Brick. (Who knew there would be so much manual labor in improv?) By this bon mots, Lyndsay instructs us to add small details to the scenes that build directly off the last thing said. Small bricks, people. Small bricks. As David Pasquesi said about the TJ & Dave process in our interview, "we were just trying to let some unknown thing unfold one tiny moment at a time. No plans. No great scene ideas or stories. Just the next little, tiny thing."
THE LAST THING SAID IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING
This good'un relates to the points above and speaks directly to the Brick by Brick concept. Oh, yes, we listen. But we need to hear with our whole selves, and yes-and that bad boy. Listen to what your scene partner is saying at that moment and react to it. This tenet involves a willingness to alter or entirely discard whatever narrative your busy brain may have been churning up. Again, we're aiming for discovery, not invention, my friends. Listen. Hear! Pause. Agree.
SHOOT THE GRANDMA
Ah, one of my favorites. I never did find out the derivation of this motto, but it means that we shouldn't be afraid to call out the "deal" of the scene near the top of the scene, even if it feels a little artificial. "Mom, you always worry I'm going to get hit by a bus, and I never do." (Spoiler alert: That character must get hit by a bus.) Or, I suppose, better yet, "Mom, you're such a worrywart." Call it out. Don't beat around the bush. Shoot the fucking grandma.
TIP THE HAT
Tipping the Hat is related to Shooting the Grandma, but it seems to be directed to one's troupemates. It's making a statement that calls out what the scene is about in order to make sure your teammates know we're all on the same page.
3-7-10
This relates to energy and can be applied to many different levels of scenework, both within a scene and over the course of a story's arc throughout a series of scenes. On a 1-10 scale, the first beat of an opening or an individual scene or Harold could be played at a "3," the second at a "7," and then heighten it to a "10."
CHARACTER CAN LIVE ANYWHERE. PLOT CANNOT.
We can't lead in plot, according to Lyndsay. We can only lead in character or emotion. Your plot ideas ("I am using a machete in my hunt for Big Foot!") can be destroyed unintentionally by your scene partner before you even utter a word in the scene when she says, "Hi, Dad! How's your golf game going?" But if you come on with a character with an emotion ("I'm a banker in jail for embezzlement"), you can play that person no matter what your scene partner throws at you. So instead of having to chuck out your whole Big Foot scenario and being stranded with nothing, you can play the guilty banker with whatever your scene partner brings to you. Boom, your son is visiting you in jail. Boom, your son is with you in jail. Boom, you're having an outwardly banal conversation with your wife over brunch at the club, but you're burning up with guilt inside. Your character can live anywhere. Plot? Notsomuch.
SPECIFICITY KILLS AMBIGUITY
This one is self-explanatory and you improvisers have heard it a million times. God lives in the details. The more improv I watch out there, the more I want to strengthen this muscle. "I want a bear claw" is a funnier than "I want a donut" every fucking time. Specificity is a free laugh just ripe for the gleaning.
HYPER-COMMIT TO EMOTION AND CONNECTION
When in doubt, double down on your emotional relationship. This is why "I love you" works so well in a scene. It's intense emotion. You can take care of your scene partner by endowing relationship and emotional connection, then heightening the emotion. Don't forget to maintain eye contact and make physical contact. (Lyndsay using the example of tucking someone's hair behind their ear. See that? Instantly there is a whole bunch of information, relationship and emotional connection created.) Eye contact also will help you from going to Koo Koo Town. 3-7-10 your emotional state - not by yelling your head off about stupid shit. A "10" on the dial is not the same thing as volume. Even quietly playing three notes on a piano over and over can be heightened to a 10 very powerfully. The audience will connect the dots and endow your scene with more depth and you will discover lovely subtext if you hyper-commit to your emotion.
While we are Digging Deeper in the Same Ditch, we're also building a scene Brick by Brick. (Who knew there would be so much manual labor in improv?) By this bon mots, Lyndsay instructs us to add small details to the scenes that build directly off the last thing said. Small bricks, people. Small bricks. As David Pasquesi said about the TJ & Dave process in our interview, "we were just trying to let some unknown thing unfold one tiny moment at a time. No plans. No great scene ideas or stories. Just the next little, tiny thing."
THE LAST THING SAID IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING
This good'un relates to the points above and speaks directly to the Brick by Brick concept. Oh, yes, we listen. But we need to hear with our whole selves, and yes-and that bad boy. Listen to what your scene partner is saying at that moment and react to it. This tenet involves a willingness to alter or entirely discard whatever narrative your busy brain may have been churning up. Again, we're aiming for discovery, not invention, my friends. Listen. Hear! Pause. Agree.
SHOOT THE GRANDMA
Ah, one of my favorites. I never did find out the derivation of this motto, but it means that we shouldn't be afraid to call out the "deal" of the scene near the top of the scene, even if it feels a little artificial. "Mom, you always worry I'm going to get hit by a bus, and I never do." (Spoiler alert: That character must get hit by a bus.) Or, I suppose, better yet, "Mom, you're such a worrywart." Call it out. Don't beat around the bush. Shoot the fucking grandma.
TIP THE HAT
Tipping the Hat is related to Shooting the Grandma, but it seems to be directed to one's troupemates. It's making a statement that calls out what the scene is about in order to make sure your teammates know we're all on the same page.
3-7-10
This relates to energy and can be applied to many different levels of scenework, both within a scene and over the course of a story's arc throughout a series of scenes. On a 1-10 scale, the first beat of an opening or an individual scene or Harold could be played at a "3," the second at a "7," and then heighten it to a "10."
CHARACTER CAN LIVE ANYWHERE. PLOT CANNOT.
We can't lead in plot, according to Lyndsay. We can only lead in character or emotion. Your plot ideas ("I am using a machete in my hunt for Big Foot!") can be destroyed unintentionally by your scene partner before you even utter a word in the scene when she says, "Hi, Dad! How's your golf game going?" But if you come on with a character with an emotion ("I'm a banker in jail for embezzlement"), you can play that person no matter what your scene partner throws at you. So instead of having to chuck out your whole Big Foot scenario and being stranded with nothing, you can play the guilty banker with whatever your scene partner brings to you. Boom, your son is visiting you in jail. Boom, your son is with you in jail. Boom, you're having an outwardly banal conversation with your wife over brunch at the club, but you're burning up with guilt inside. Your character can live anywhere. Plot? Notsomuch.
SPECIFICITY KILLS AMBIGUITY
This one is self-explanatory and you improvisers have heard it a million times. God lives in the details. The more improv I watch out there, the more I want to strengthen this muscle. "I want a bear claw" is a funnier than "I want a donut" every fucking time. Specificity is a free laugh just ripe for the gleaning.
HYPER-COMMIT TO EMOTION AND CONNECTION
When in doubt, double down on your emotional relationship. This is why "I love you" works so well in a scene. It's intense emotion. You can take care of your scene partner by endowing relationship and emotional connection, then heightening the emotion. Don't forget to maintain eye contact and make physical contact. (Lyndsay using the example of tucking someone's hair behind their ear. See that? Instantly there is a whole bunch of information, relationship and emotional connection created.) Eye contact also will help you from going to Koo Koo Town. 3-7-10 your emotional state - not by yelling your head off about stupid shit. A "10" on the dial is not the same thing as volume. Even quietly playing three notes on a piano over and over can be heightened to a 10 very powerfully. The audience will connect the dots and endow your scene with more depth and you will discover lovely subtext if you hyper-commit to your emotion.
Shows shows shows
In the two weeks I've been here, last night was the second night I didn't go to any shows. After a 5+ hour workshop with Piero Procaccini (my Chicago mentor who runs workshops for us at home) followed by a dinner with the crew, I took the night off to connect virtually with my husband, with whom I've barely been able to talk to all week. Perhaps that sacrifice makes me the Wife of the Year. Or at least the Wife of the Hour. Or maybe just begins to make up for leaving him in the lurch with a barking puppy at 3am last Thursday.
I've seen some great shows, some good shows, and some so-so shows since I've been here. At iO, where we get into most shows for free, there is a Harold show every night of the week, so I tried to check out as many teams as possible in order to better understand the structure that is the pride of iO and will be our focus for the remaining weeks. Typically, a Harold show involves two or three sets by a rotation of teams. Often a visiting team will open for a more established house team, like the longtime team Carl and the Passions. Then there are the highlight shows - like the ever-popular Improvised Shakespeare, The Armando Diaz Experience and Hootenanny, TJ & Dave, and the musical show featuring The Deltones which I still haven't been able to get into so I'll soon break down and shell out the cash for a ticket. Other must-see shows I've caught include 3033 and the quick-witted BFF boys team Cook County Social Club. And those are just the iO shows. They are all a blur, but I'm sure I can come up with some stand outs. Let's see...
Ok, for sure the most joyous night of shows was last Tuesday when I saw a rare triple team line up featuring the Harold team Berserker, Jet & Susan (that's Eveleth and Messing, people!) and Waterbed with the sure-to-be-famous Tim Robinson and my new improv crush Dina Facklis. I definitely laughed the most at those shows. Jet was being her wonderful kooky self while Susan held down the straight man position with her usual aplomb. And then there was Waterbed....so. fucking. hilarious. I am somewhat crushed that this show was their last while I'm here because it would be a show I would see as every possible occasion. Tim Robison is the kind of comedian where you just wind him up and stand out of the way. This show was his third of the night - I had seen him in The Cook County Social Club earlier in the evening, and then he performed with TIM (all guys named Tim) - but he was still rarin' to go when he took the stage with Facklis. Though he's the ultimate teammate, he's also the kind of player who could dominate the stage just with his larger-than-life personality and Tigger-like energy, but Facklis was his perfect other anchor. The first time I saw her, in an Armando show, as soon as she initiated a scene with "Class, class. Everyone come out here," I knew those type of mother hen group scenes were her specialty. Dina seems to bring people together. She is an absolute pro with controlled confidence who willingly shares the stage, playing her lovely supportive note, but then at just the right moments adds in these fantastic, discordant zingers that let you peek into the crazy weird shit that goes on in her brain. I'd happily watch Dina Facklis fold clothes.
Not a one of you will be surprised that my Deepest Laugh Award goes TJ & Dave in the first week I got here. They performed their typical seductively slow improvised dance that built upon itself so artfully that I didn't fully appreciate it until it was over. The climax of the show, for me, was this quick retort by Dave (who was playing a gentle, giant high school student responding to TJ's verbally abusive father) that was so perfect, so smart and so dead-on that it hit the audience like a palpable wave. At first there were a few smattering of laughs, but then I could clearly hear as the depth of the retort sunk in and the audience response gained strength, crested and crashed over the room. Total improvgasmic moment. And, yes, I'm using these sensual terms consciously because, as it is well joked about in my team, I "have a boner" for TJ and Dave. Especially TJ, who steals my improv heart more and more in every show I see him.
I was the teensiest bit disappointed the past Wednesday night when Dave was out of town and TJ played with someone else. Without a doubt the show lacked the depth and gravitas without Dave's classical presence. But of course it was still a terrific show, most notably because TJ was freed up to play silly sexual hijinx with his partner. I did take special delight in watching him improvise the various ways he would titillate a vagina.
And I think I'll leave you with that.
Though for those of you who now need some visual imagery to ease any vajayjay discomfort you may be having, here are some photos I took of other shows:
I've seen some great shows, some good shows, and some so-so shows since I've been here. At iO, where we get into most shows for free, there is a Harold show every night of the week, so I tried to check out as many teams as possible in order to better understand the structure that is the pride of iO and will be our focus for the remaining weeks. Typically, a Harold show involves two or three sets by a rotation of teams. Often a visiting team will open for a more established house team, like the longtime team Carl and the Passions. Then there are the highlight shows - like the ever-popular Improvised Shakespeare, The Armando Diaz Experience and Hootenanny, TJ & Dave, and the musical show featuring The Deltones which I still haven't been able to get into so I'll soon break down and shell out the cash for a ticket. Other must-see shows I've caught include 3033 and the quick-witted BFF boys team Cook County Social Club. And those are just the iO shows. They are all a blur, but I'm sure I can come up with some stand outs. Let's see...
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| Jet and Susan in their show "Fart on a Stick: Ethereal Improv" |
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| "Waterbed" with Dina Facklis and Tim Robison |
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| TJ |
I was the teensiest bit disappointed the past Wednesday night when Dave was out of town and TJ played with someone else. Without a doubt the show lacked the depth and gravitas without Dave's classical presence. But of course it was still a terrific show, most notably because TJ was freed up to play silly sexual hijinx with his partner. I did take special delight in watching him improvise the various ways he would titillate a vagina.
And I think I'll leave you with that.
Though for those of you who now need some visual imagery to ease any vajayjay discomfort you may be having, here are some photos I took of other shows:
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| Bill Arnett as Armando |
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| Dina Facklis and Noah Gregoropoulos in Armando |
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| Haterade improv rap show |
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| Kevin Mullaney |
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| Susan |
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| Second City (I haven't seen a show here yet, but attended a workshop.) |
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| So far I've seen two Messing with a Friend shows here |
Thursday, July 19, 2012
A Perfect Day
Spending all day doing improv with people I love.
Having a nice dinner with a friend with a lovely British accent in an noisy bar. Drinking a concoction called a "Flirtini" and talking, non-stop, about improv improv improv.
Sitting in the fourth row "Messing with a Friend" at the Annoyance Theatre and running into half my teammates.
Being greeted with a big "Hi Pam! I saw you in the audience!" and a hug by Susan.
Standing in the lobby, dissecting the show and shooting the shit with my friends while Mick Napier works the bar, surveying the crowd with shifty eyes.
Taking the train three stops with friends and walking in the perfect night air at midnight past Wrigley Field on my way home.
There are worse ways to spend a Thursday.
Blessed am I.
Having a nice dinner with a friend with a lovely British accent in an noisy bar. Drinking a concoction called a "Flirtini" and talking, non-stop, about improv improv improv.
Sitting in the fourth row "Messing with a Friend" at the Annoyance Theatre and running into half my teammates.
Being greeted with a big "Hi Pam! I saw you in the audience!" and a hug by Susan.
Standing in the lobby, dissecting the show and shooting the shit with my friends while Mick Napier works the bar, surveying the crowd with shifty eyes.
There are worse ways to spend a Thursday.
Blessed am I.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Week Two - Character
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| Chris, Fogg, Senja & Robert Week Two |
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| James, Stephanie, Stuart being interviewed in character |
My approach to this week has been to take it as an opportunity to reserve my forces, try to coast and recharge. Or at least not expend too much energy. Circumstance has played into this approach as well.
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| Stephanie & James playing Doublemint Twins Get Fucked Up the Ass |
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| Stuart & Peter Doublemint Twins |
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| James & Robert finally get to sleep together in "Good Morning, Fucko" |
I was very excited to do some famous Susan Messing exercises I had heard about, like "Good Morning, Fucko" and "The Doublemint Twins Get Fucked Up the Ass," which are not as scary as they sound. Susan likes to give them wicked names in order to keep it light, fun and engaging. Unfortunately, I sometimes needed to coax the real names of the exercises out of Marla at first. She has a pretty straight-laced demeanor and the words "fucko" and "up the ass" don't roll off her tongue; whereas when Susan says them, they sound like pearls dropping on a thick carpet...and rolling up to your vagina.
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| I don't think any of us will forget Chelsea and Stuart doing Good Morning, Fucko |
In another post, I will detail some of the exercises that I found most useful. I definitely have learned that little "hooks" where you can hang your improv hat - such as something as simply as a repeated movement or a catchphrase - can help enormously to make a firm choice in a character and bring richness to your scenework.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Visibly Tight
I have so much catching up to do, and I can see that there is no way I'll be able to stay on top my blogging duties, which sucks because I know I'll want to look back on my day-by-day life here. But I literally don't have a moment to spare. Monday through Thursday, my days are wake up, grab a quick breakfast, hightail it over to class, do improv from 11-1:30, have a one hour lunch break when we bond and talk about improv, more improv 2:30-5:00, plan what shows we'll see and tear ourselves away from each other, shower off the sweaty theater mess, grab a quick dinner at home, hightail it to iO for shows until about midnight, go home and attempt to shake off the improv high and sleep. Rinse. Repeat.
It's glorious.
I'm exhausted.
On Thursday, we found our team name, Visibly Tight. I don't remember the context, but one of our delightfully quirky British member, who goes by the name Fogg, said the phrase while dissecting a Harold. Our teacher, Lyndsay Hailey, took instant delight in the phrase, insisting we must take it as our team name or she would never speak to us again. We listen well to what Lyndsay says.
Since there is no possible way of doing this week justice, let me just say the most important and dazzling part: I love my team so very deeply. I love each and every person on my team. Beautifully, we come together from so many different places - Hawaii, London, Finland, San Francisco, Cincinnati - from so many walks of life, but we all share one mind and our deep, geeky love of improv. In many ways, they are all people from my home planet. We speak the same language. Think the same thoughts. Over meals, we lean in together and guzzle massive quantities of improv philosophy, history and gossip along with our food. It's magic.
I love the fact that we are all at, more or less, the same high level with our improv performance skills. I am not the only person who produces an improv show. There is years of experience between us, and we compliment and balance each other beautifully. Most of all, under Lyndsay's expert guidance, we trust each other and are without question there to serve each other. To exalt each other. To hold the net under each other.
I have a feeling we sped through a good chunk of the Level One curriculum early on in the week, and Lyndsay chucked some of it aside to best meet our needs. We ran Openings of Harolds over and over and over again. I loved it. Openings are weird, wooly, woo-woo performance pieces to watch, but I now understand their importance in the form in order to uncover the theme.
I swear I spattered geek juice all over Lyndsay the day she said we'd do an Invocation, one of the pagan rituals/improv exercises invented by Del Close. We invoked a locket. I loved it.
Obviously, I loved it all. Week One has been glorious and hard and exhausting, but I loved it. Around Wednesday, I hit a wall. We all did actually. Our work was pretty sucky as Lyndsay tried to teach us the Armando structure.
Here is a note I wrote to a friend last Wednesday:
Our group has been kicking ass so hard, it's no wonder we would stumble back a couple steps. I think we're just all tired. I know that I did some supremely shitty improv today, and I just about lost it in class when I was just absolutely blank going into a scene with something that the teacher was asking me to do. I actually had to stop the scene (terrible form!) and admit that I had nothing. But they couldn't have been more supportive. They literally all cheered my name, and then once the scene got started I felt incredibly taken care of and supported by the other actors. So though my work sucked, it was absolutely remarkable and pretty fucking magical that these people who I didn't know last week would have my back so thoroughly. It's like fucking bootcamp - except instead of tearing you down, our teacher builds us up and then builds us up some more. But like bootcamp, the bonds we're forming - particularly with my group who are extremely connected and bonding - is pretty profound. I'm so lucky to be a part of it, and I'm sure once I get back on the horse tomorrow, I'll be riding high.
Gotta run now. After lunch with Joe Bill, I swung by the house to do my laundry, and now I'm running out the door to meet my team for the Deltones show tonight at iO.
It's glorious.
I'm exhausted.
.jpg) |
| Our Level One teacher Lyndsay "Goosebumps" Hailey, who we love |
Since there is no possible way of doing this week justice, let me just say the most important and dazzling part: I love my team so very deeply. I love each and every person on my team. Beautifully, we come together from so many different places - Hawaii, London, Finland, San Francisco, Cincinnati - from so many walks of life, but we all share one mind and our deep, geeky love of improv. In many ways, they are all people from my home planet. We speak the same language. Think the same thoughts. Over meals, we lean in together and guzzle massive quantities of improv philosophy, history and gossip along with our food. It's magic.
 |
| Scott, Senja, Stephanie running a Harold |
I love the fact that we are all at, more or less, the same high level with our improv performance skills. I am not the only person who produces an improv show. There is years of experience between us, and we compliment and balance each other beautifully. Most of all, under Lyndsay's expert guidance, we trust each other and are without question there to serve each other. To exalt each other. To hold the net under each other.
 |
| Scott, James, David, Senja, Robert July 12, 2012 |
I have a feeling we sped through a good chunk of the Level One curriculum early on in the week, and Lyndsay chucked some of it aside to best meet our needs. We ran Openings of Harolds over and over and over again. I loved it. Openings are weird, wooly, woo-woo performance pieces to watch, but I now understand their importance in the form in order to uncover the theme.
I swear I spattered geek juice all over Lyndsay the day she said we'd do an Invocation, one of the pagan rituals/improv exercises invented by Del Close. We invoked a locket. I loved it.
Obviously, I loved it all. Week One has been glorious and hard and exhausting, but I loved it. Around Wednesday, I hit a wall. We all did actually. Our work was pretty sucky as Lyndsay tried to teach us the Armando structure.
Here is a note I wrote to a friend last Wednesday:
Our group has been kicking ass so hard, it's no wonder we would stumble back a couple steps. I think we're just all tired. I know that I did some supremely shitty improv today, and I just about lost it in class when I was just absolutely blank going into a scene with something that the teacher was asking me to do. I actually had to stop the scene (terrible form!) and admit that I had nothing. But they couldn't have been more supportive. They literally all cheered my name, and then once the scene got started I felt incredibly taken care of and supported by the other actors. So though my work sucked, it was absolutely remarkable and pretty fucking magical that these people who I didn't know last week would have my back so thoroughly. It's like fucking bootcamp - except instead of tearing you down, our teacher builds us up and then builds us up some more. But like bootcamp, the bonds we're forming - particularly with my group who are extremely connected and bonding - is pretty profound. I'm so lucky to be a part of it, and I'm sure once I get back on the horse tomorrow, I'll be riding high.
Gotta run now. After lunch with Joe Bill, I swung by the house to do my laundry, and now I'm running out the door to meet my team for the Deltones show tonight at iO.
Annoyance Lore & Hippy Lunch at Kopi
Just back from a lunch date with Joe Bill. In a nod to my hippy-dom, we went to his friend Al Rose's crunchywonderful restaurant in Andersonville called Kopi. Turns out, Al ended up play music for early Annoyance shows. He sort of fell into the role of playing the opening for the first Splatter Theater in their original production of Metraform or, as they call it, "Annoyance before it was Annoyance." I got to sit there as Joe and Al played "back in the day," remembering the craziness of the show, their youthful foolheartiness, the fact that they pushed on ahead because they were too young, overly confident and ignorant to know it couldn't be done. They just did it because they didn't yet know they couldn't.
I especially loved the story about the intermission-type act that they threw in there to allow them to change costumes. It was a "puppet" show called Meat Puppets featuring a pork chop and a hot dog. Oh, and by the way if Joe's memory is correct, the pork chop was played by David Pasquesi and the hot dog by Tim Meadows.
Al talked about this gig with us.
I especially loved the story about the intermission-type act that they threw in there to allow them to change costumes. It was a "puppet" show called Meat Puppets featuring a pork chop and a hot dog. Oh, and by the way if Joe's memory is correct, the pork chop was played by David Pasquesi and the hot dog by Tim Meadows.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
The Day I've Been Visualizing for Years
By the time I got to iO for the first day of the summer intensive, the cabaret was already packed. I wasn't late; I think the other students were merely enthusiastic and nervous. As was I. We gather, do some paperwork, and get a little intro and pizza, which of course I can't eat. In the paperwork, I see that I'm in section six (whoever they are). For the entire intensive, we stay with our groups. And each week (corresponding to five advancing levels) a different teacher works with us. I don't recognize any of the names of my teachers, which concerns me somewhat. It just means I won't be getting any of the "superstars." Fine. I'm just thinking about my team, and I can hardly focus on a face in the crowd because it makes me too scared to think about which ones will be the most important people in my life for the next five weeks.
After a long delay, the joker in the booth starts playing some sort of royal march (or perhaps it was the theme to Masterpiece Theater.) And Charna Halpern owns the stage. Literally and figuratively. The teachers are lined up behind her, and as she hops up on stage, she goes down the line, punching each one in turn. Then she turns to us, her eager and presumably adoring audience, holds up her middle finger on each hand in a salute, and playfully yells, "Fuck you!" And then she says with obvious pride, "Welcome to my home." This, ladies and gentlemen, is Charna Halpern.
She is smiling, though flustered, as she explains that she has just moved one significant step closer to owning a new home for iO, a bigger theatre that they will move into in a year. We are privy to the grand announcement first! She introduces herself as the "only, living longform creator," which makes me wonder how David Shepherd would feel about that, not to mention Keith Johnstone. She gives a brief introduction to iO and their philosophy, echoing what David Pasquesi told me in our interview, "We take our scenes nice and slow. One line at a time. We listen between the lines." There is some skittering in the audience, and Charna calls out to her dogs. She has four though only two are at the theater with her that day. The dogs have their own theme song too as they join her on stage.
Finally, we are dismissed to meet our sections. Each section is meant to have 16 people. We have 15, and I shyly peek at them as we bake outside the theater waiting for our teacher to take us to our off-site classroom. It's an eclectic bunch in ages and appearance. They all look pretty cool. But can they improvise?
"This will undoubtably change your life," our first week teacher, Lyndsay Hailey promises in her introduction. She seems very cool with a vibrant energy of positive enthusiasm that puts me at ease in her hands. She is a gentle, strong force that guides us forward during our time together.
We circle up on the floor. Going into the intensive, my biggest worry was that I wouldn't get a good team, people at my level. I was worried that too much of my precious time in Chicago would be wasted watching new improvisers stumble their way through scenes. (Bitchy, I know. But the truth nonetheless.) The class team is important at the intensive. Like boot camp or even just regular summer camp, we are meant to bond strongly with these people, establish unbreakable trust, and genuinely get pleasure from each other. I notice that there are three other women on the team, a willowly blond from Finland, a young actress from NYC, and a dark-haired improviser, newly arrived in Chicago, who looks just like the "This one time, at band camp..." girl from the American Pie movie. For some reason I'm unperturbed by the gender imbalance. The guys look kind and open, and something in my brain says, "Good. This will be a good chance for you to stretch and learn to play better with men." After we do the first exercise in which we share our most embarrassing moment stories (just imagine stories with lots of poop, pee, vomit and menstrual blood), I'm pretty psyched to discover that I genuinely like these people. They are each one of them Good Folk, kind-hearted people who I could be friends with. Phew. But can they improvise?
Finally, we're up on our feet. We launch into learning how to do the "Opening" of a Harold, which is an organic group mindmeld - pretty experimental theatery looking - as we work together to spontaneously create a soundscape and a human "machine" that will reveal the theme of our show. Afterwards we do a few scenes, cycling through the group. I become increasingly ebullient to discover that all these people are GREAT improvisers who know their shit. HOORAY!!!!! Aside from our weakest link, an older man named John, every single person clearly has studied and performed a great deal of improv. In fact, miraculously enough, they all seemed to be at the exact same evolutionary stage in their improv as I am with mine. (Insert the triumphant music and happy dancing here.)
By the end of the class at 5pm, I am walking on air. My dreams have been answered, and I'm eager to dive back into more improv with these new friends. After a brief time at home to shower and bolt down some food, most of us meet up that evening at iO for the all-star cast who do The Armando show, which is red hot that night in front of the eager, packed house of mostly students. I mean, they killed it. I can hardly sleep that night at all because my body is pulsing with improv joy.
After a long delay, the joker in the booth starts playing some sort of royal march (or perhaps it was the theme to Masterpiece Theater.) And Charna Halpern owns the stage. Literally and figuratively. The teachers are lined up behind her, and as she hops up on stage, she goes down the line, punching each one in turn. Then she turns to us, her eager and presumably adoring audience, holds up her middle finger on each hand in a salute, and playfully yells, "Fuck you!" And then she says with obvious pride, "Welcome to my home." This, ladies and gentlemen, is Charna Halpern.
She is smiling, though flustered, as she explains that she has just moved one significant step closer to owning a new home for iO, a bigger theatre that they will move into in a year. We are privy to the grand announcement first! She introduces herself as the "only, living longform creator," which makes me wonder how David Shepherd would feel about that, not to mention Keith Johnstone. She gives a brief introduction to iO and their philosophy, echoing what David Pasquesi told me in our interview, "We take our scenes nice and slow. One line at a time. We listen between the lines." There is some skittering in the audience, and Charna calls out to her dogs. She has four though only two are at the theater with her that day. The dogs have their own theme song too as they join her on stage.
 |
| Dame Charna Halpern and the backend of one of her dogs |
Finally, we are dismissed to meet our sections. Each section is meant to have 16 people. We have 15, and I shyly peek at them as we bake outside the theater waiting for our teacher to take us to our off-site classroom. It's an eclectic bunch in ages and appearance. They all look pretty cool. But can they improvise?
"This will undoubtably change your life," our first week teacher, Lyndsay Hailey promises in her introduction. She seems very cool with a vibrant energy of positive enthusiasm that puts me at ease in her hands. She is a gentle, strong force that guides us forward during our time together.We circle up on the floor. Going into the intensive, my biggest worry was that I wouldn't get a good team, people at my level. I was worried that too much of my precious time in Chicago would be wasted watching new improvisers stumble their way through scenes. (Bitchy, I know. But the truth nonetheless.) The class team is important at the intensive. Like boot camp or even just regular summer camp, we are meant to bond strongly with these people, establish unbreakable trust, and genuinely get pleasure from each other. I notice that there are three other women on the team, a willowly blond from Finland, a young actress from NYC, and a dark-haired improviser, newly arrived in Chicago, who looks just like the "This one time, at band camp..." girl from the American Pie movie. For some reason I'm unperturbed by the gender imbalance. The guys look kind and open, and something in my brain says, "Good. This will be a good chance for you to stretch and learn to play better with men." After we do the first exercise in which we share our most embarrassing moment stories (just imagine stories with lots of poop, pee, vomit and menstrual blood), I'm pretty psyched to discover that I genuinely like these people. They are each one of them Good Folk, kind-hearted people who I could be friends with. Phew. But can they improvise?
Finally, we're up on our feet. We launch into learning how to do the "Opening" of a Harold, which is an organic group mindmeld - pretty experimental theatery looking - as we work together to spontaneously create a soundscape and a human "machine" that will reveal the theme of our show. Afterwards we do a few scenes, cycling through the group. I become increasingly ebullient to discover that all these people are GREAT improvisers who know their shit. HOORAY!!!!! Aside from our weakest link, an older man named John, every single person clearly has studied and performed a great deal of improv. In fact, miraculously enough, they all seemed to be at the exact same evolutionary stage in their improv as I am with mine. (Insert the triumphant music and happy dancing here.)
By the end of the class at 5pm, I am walking on air. My dreams have been answered, and I'm eager to dive back into more improv with these new friends. After a brief time at home to shower and bolt down some food, most of us meet up that evening at iO for the all-star cast who do The Armando show, which is red hot that night in front of the eager, packed house of mostly students. I mean, they killed it. I can hardly sleep that night at all because my body is pulsing with improv joy.
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