Improv for the Non-Improv Set

This is my dear friend Kat Koppett, with whom I've had the great pleasure of performing and teaching with over the years. Here, she gives an all-too-brief motivational speech about the power of improv in everyday life.  

If you want to check out Kat and her improv company (MopCo) and you happen to live in the Albany-Troy-Schenectady district of New York, please don't miss out. 

From Beer to Eternity

For those of you with a free hour on your hands tonight, since there's clearly no new episode of LOST to occupy your viewing schedule, may I suggest you take a few minutes to check out my good buddy Sam's new series of videos entitled, From Beer to Eternity.

In his own words: "As a comic, I started seeking out brewpubs whenever I was on the road.  Often, over frosty mugs, glasses, steins or yards of heavenly brew, I began to wonder: who are these mad, geniuses making this beer?  Where are their lairs we call 'craft breweries?'  And what is the alchemy in these sacred labs that makes these beers so special? So I’m hitting the highways and backroads to find out and I’m’s taking you with me. I’m going to travel…. From Beer to Eternity."

So, grab a brew, take a look at his fine work, and be sure to spread the word.

Improv 101 – Don’t Plan Ahead

The Hermit

I've worked with many improvisers over the years. Some were amazing talents. Some needed to be carried a bit until they found their footing. Others were "look at me" spotlight hogs who had no business on the stage.

I've done shows that I'm incredibly proud of, scenes that still make me cringe at the memory over a decade after the fact, and thousands more scenes that if you pulled out a videotape which had secretly recorded those performances I would have absolutely no recollection of having taken part in them.

That's part and parcel of "being in the moment" on stage. When a pair of performers is "in the zone" it can sometimes be an out-of-body experience. It's getting to the point of trust with your fellow actors where you allow yourself that kind of "freedom to fail miserably" that's difficult to achieve, and even harder to maintain. Yet, it is in those rare moments of "improv nirvana" where the greatest work is created.

Of all the moments I've ever had on stage, one stands out as being simultaneously the most "pure" and most fleeting of them all. I was in a company called Freestyle Rep in New York, and we were doing a show which was based around the tarot deck, playing the characters of the Major Arcana.

Our set that season consisted of a series of screens (pull-down window shades) each with a different backdrop painted on it. Pull down the "city" screen and you're in a bustling metropolis. Pull down the "starry sky" screen and suddenly it's nighttime.

We were in the middle of the show, and as one scene ended, my fellow improviser, Asaf Ronen had taken to the stage to pull down a different screen, so as to intimate a change of location. Today, I don't remember the complicated plot that was going on at the time, but I do recall that the story dictated that my Hermit character needed to meet secretly with Asaf's Magician in order to get the ball rolling towards the tale's denouement. Asaf knew this as well, and was calling my character's name as he took the stage.

"Ben! Where are you Ben?"

I stood ready at the foot of the stage ready to bound on, reminding myself what we needed to accomplish in the scene plotwise, but before the scene could proceed, Asaf began to have trouble with the shades. He was trying to pull down the "forest" yet couldn't get the screen to "click" into place.

"Ben!"

It kept rolling itself back up.

"Where are you, Ben?"

Asaf continued vamping for time as the set refused to cooperate with him.

After a few aborted tries, Asaf finally gave up and pulled down another screen – perhaps it was the "castle wall"? I don't really remember the details. All I remember is my starting and stopping as I waited for him to get a screen into place so that the stage lights could be brought up to full from their dim state and I could enter and we could proceed with the screen – and the mild tittering from the audience as they became amused with his failure to be successful.

Finally, after a delay which surely felt light years longer than it actually was, a screen clicked in, the lights shone brightly, and I finally started up the steps to the center of the stage. Asaf immediately continued as if nothing had happened, but of course, as he'd been calling my name for some time, when he finally saw me on stage, he simply said, "You're late!"

Without even a moment's hesitation, I made a small gesture towards the screen and said, "You moved."

It was pure instinct – and it was a perfect moment.

Asaf lost it.

The audience lost it, laughing and applauding.

I lost it.

And as quickly as it came, that "improv nirvana" vanished. I don't remember anything else about that scene or that show. But that moment? I still treasure it to this day, because for an improviser… that's as good as it gets.

Asaf Ronen, neither actual size, nor actual level of evil

If you love improv, be sure to check out Asaf's blog here. His advice about the craft is always spot on.

Brushes With Pre-Greatness (Volume 2)

Robert Sean Leonard

Back in 1996, my improv group was performing at the John Houseman Theatre, one of the premiere off-Broadway venues in the city at the time.

Well, I take that back - we weren't technically performing in the Houseman, but rather in one of the two studio spaces beneath the Houseman, right next door to Kenny Kramer, who was using the space to show his customers videos of episodes of Seinfeld before leading them out to a tour bus to take a sightseeing tour from "the Real Kramer."

We did a few seasons in this location, so we knew our weekend matinee performances were required to start with one of us standing at the top of the staircase making sure that our audience knew to descend, rather than follow the crowd into the mainstage space to see Sylvia with Sarah Jessica Parker pretending to be a dog. (I only wish I were making that up.)

We also knew that because the signage for whatever the "big show" above was at the time would be far superior to ours, we always set out to do a huge postering of the local businesses to get the word of our show out into the public eye - or ear or any other organ that got them to buy a ticket. In 1996, I was in charge of this campaign, and on a cold and rainy weekend morning, I played point-man as I sent my postering charges out into the neighborhood in teams of two making sure we got as much coverage as possible until all the posters were gone.

At the time, the show preparing to open "above us" was ironically called Below the Belt and as it turns out, they were doing a dress rehearsal that morning. So, while I sat and read a book, every so often, into the small hallway came Judd Hirsch and Robert Sean Leonard wearing a lot of blue terry cloth. At this time, everyone knew Hirsch from his days on Taxi, but although he had been in Dead Poets Society, Leonard was not quite yet a household name. He was getting there, but it's not like Swing Kids - guilty pleasure as I think it to be - had been a box office smash.

Anyway, the postering campaign was a three-hour tour, so when the cast broke for lunch, I was still sitting there waiting for the last team to report back to home base, and as far as Robert Sean Leonard knew, I had been sitting there by myself the whole time - he had never been in the hallway when any of my teams had been there.

Slowly, he came over and excused himself, and asked if I was OK. He seemed genuinely concerned that I might be in need of help, but it was clear that he was also, at heart, a very shy individual, and was leaving his comfort zone to do so.

I explained to him why I was there, and showed him a copy of our poster. He immediately relaxed and brightened up. "I was worried you were either in trouble or a stalker. Thank goodness!" I invited him to be a guest judge, or just stop by and see the show if he had the time, and he said he would try to drop in. I don't think he actually ever did, but I do believe that when he said it, he meant it.

Anyway, it's an example of the "person" being as likable as the "actor" persona they've created. That's not always the case, so I'm always happy to encounter it and spread the word.

Brushes With Pre-Greatness (Volume 1)

Nathan Fillion as Captain Hammer

I've never been someone who gets starstruck when encountering celebrities. Perhaps that's because I grew up in New York City, where it is not at all uncommon to cross paths with television personalities on a semi-regular basis simply by walking down the street. In addition, I used to perform with an improv group that frequently invited "famous people" to participate in our shows, so it was not uncommon to have encounters with the likes of Linda Ellerbee, Austin Pendleton or Avery Schreiber.

Of course, not every "celebrity" who came into our theater had immediate name recognition. One night, I was captaining a Theatresports team (a competitive form of "Whose Line Is It Anyway?") and was told that one of the judges for that night's show was a former member of Edmonton Theatresports. Well, we get visiting fellow-improvisers as judges all the time, so I didn't think anything of it... until we were on stage, and our judges were introduced by name - the Canadian in question was Nathan Fillion.

Now if this story took place in 2010, I'd have been flabbergasted - Mal from Firefly? Captain Hammer himself? Holy cow! However, this was like 1994 or 95. Nathan hadn't even been in Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place yet. He'd only recently started portraying Joey Buchanan on the soap opera One Life to Live so essentially, nobody knew who the heck he was... but I did.

A few years prior, when I was in college, I had to write something called an ethnography, where you observe a group of people over a few months as they engage in a regular, repeated activity, and write about any consistent behaviors that you witness. Since I was going to school at Syracuse, and it was winter time, I selected a group in my very own residence hall to avoid going outside: the girls who sat in the lobby and commandeered the TV set each morning to watch "their stories."

In other words, I watched them as they watched One Life to Live... and of course, as time went on (as this was a lengthy assignment) by sheer osmosis, I got sucked into the storyline. While I didn't become a regular viewer from that point on by any means, I did check in with the show from time to time over the years to see what the latest plots were.

Back to the Theatresports stage... I knew who Nathan Fillion was, simply because I had seen him on his soap. Though he had not been on the show too long, I knew some current storylines and some of the biography of his character, so for one of the challenges during the show, I decided to do a "scene in the style of soap operas" and went on stage playing my take on Joey Buchanan.

Luckily, Nathan had a sense of humor about my portrayal, and after the show, he was very gracious, but I think also a little bit frightened that I had so much awareness of Joey's backstory. So while we didn't suddenly become best friends, nor did he come out for drinks with the cast, I still walked away from the brief encounter with a positive impression of Mr. Fillion.

Since that time, he has been more than a little bit successful and now boasts over 500,000 followers on Twitter (which is only about 499,000 more than I have) and I couldn't be happier for him. And one of these days, I just might watch an episode of Castle (you know, if Nathan personally asked me to give it a try) but to me, he'll always be "the judge who gave me a perfect score in Theatresports."

28 Seconds Later...

It's too bad this group didn't make more of these short videos. This one was pretty spot on. Perhaps they had but one true comedic masterpiece in them...

O Captain! My Captain!

When I was nine or ten, I was a big fan of the WWF wrestling that aired on the local television station early on Saturday mornings. I always enjoyed watching the likes of Sgt. Slaughter, Roddy Piper, and George “The Animal” Steele grapple in the overly campy and impeccably choreographed fight sequences.

However, even at that young age, after a few viewings I could tell it wasn’t “real.” Sure, in the days before Hulk Hogan and the super-steroided behemoths took over the sport, there were the occasional athletes who did enter the squared circle. But there were also a string of overweight, out-of-shape losers and 98-pound weaklings who served as cannon fodder for the “superstars” of the so-called sport.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know who would win in a battle between a young, sculpted high-flying Jimmy Snuka and the aging (even back then) fat slob himself, Captain Lou Albano… and yet, there were people who watched this battle at the time – held at Madison Square Garden in 1982 – who actually believed this match was on the up-and-up.

In fact, this may well be the worst match I’ve ever seen… right from the get-go as Snuka appears to wait and wait and wait for Albano to throw his punches so that he can “react” to them. But at the end, watch the comic genius of Captain Lou, as he improvises post-concussion schtick at a master class level.

Farewell, Captain Lou. We’ll miss you.

An Improviser’s Platitude for a Friday

These days most people think of improv, they probably think of television shows like “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” where actors, working without a script, take suggestions from the audience and make up short scenes in an attempt to make the audience laugh. Whether or not they are successful in their efforts is probably subject to personal taste, but the majority of people are nevertheless impressed with the performers’ bravery in the effort. “I could never do that,” they think to themselves.

But they are wrong. We are all improvisers every day of our lives. Unless you woke up this morning and there was a script waiting at the foot of your bed telling you what to say and do for the next 24 hours, then you’re just like the rest of the world. We are constantly changing our assumptions and interactions based on what we observe. We are constantly presented with unexpected obstacles or unintended reactions to our words that force us to think before we make our next response.

Recognizing that each and every one of us has the ability to improvise and change plans on-the-spot will go a long way towards allowing us to feel comfortable in veering off course for a time, and equally confident that we will be able to get back on track when the time is right as well.

A happy weekend full of mystery and unexpected twists and turns to all my readers...

Dance, Puppet, Dance!

In every improv company that performs some form of “competitive improv show” there are bound to be a few “usual games” that they play on a semi-regular basis. One of the games that we used to do frequently in our adult shows, and also in nearly every school show, was called “Puppets.” (If memory serves, they also played this game on Whose Line Is It Anyway? but called it “Moving People”.)

Regardless of the name, the point of the game is to get a volunteer (or two) on-stage and explain to them that the actors in this scene will do all the talking, but they will not move until the volunteer moves them. The actors will be like Kim Catrall in Mannequin waiting to be posed (although in adult shows, frequently the volunteers would maneuvers the actors into sexually charged positions, keeping the Kim Catrall analogy, but moving the venue to Sex and the City, but I digress.)

This puts an awful lot of power in the hands of the volunteer, as they can make or break the scene. Generally speaking, volunteers fell into one of four categories: the comatose – those who simply froze under the pressure of being on stage, leaving the actors to be stationary for the entire scene; the over-exuberant – those who simply moved the actors constantly, all over the stage, without any regard for what the actors were saying; the A-holes – those who tried to deliberately push the actors off the stage, or to hit each other, or otherwise put them in danger, or even used the opportunity to get “too familiar” with certain areas of the performer’s bodies; and the “A” students – the ones who not only listened to offers, but also made some of their own, advancing the scene towards a satisfying conclusion.

Above: Two "over-exuberant" Whose Line volunteers

The "A" student group was few and far between, but wasn’t necessarily the only type of volunteer that could breed success. After all, far more school kids fall into the “comatose” category than anything else. There is a certain innate fear that many kids have, even when given permission to make the grown-ups look silly. But still, there is great entertainment value watching them come out of their shells, and finally “getting it.” In fact, a whole two-minute scene can reach an incredibly satisfying conclusion with the scared puppeteer’s participation being the coup de grace, leading to a huge ovation.

A typical scene with two young children goes like this…

“Christine, look over there.”

“Where?”

“Over there.”

“Where?”

“Where I am pointing…”

“Are you pointing?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I can’t see.”

“Turn your head.”

“OK, I will turn my head.”

To this point, neither actor has moved an inch, as the two volunteers have not moved them. But by focusing on the volunteers, and continuing to talk to them, rather than simply running through a litany of jokes, eventually, the light bulb usually goes off and the head gets turned. The audience reacts wildly.

"I can see you, but I don’t see you pointing.”

“Yes, I am pointing right over there, with my finger.”

The second puppeteer moves the finger to more huge applause from the crowd.

The two volunteers end up having a positive experience, rather than a disastrously negative one. Why? Because the actors stayed focused, not on themselves, but on the volunteers from the audience. Improvisers sometimes forget that the audience is also their partner, and the goal is always to make your partner look good. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a puppeteer attempt to move an actor and have them completely ignore it, fight against it, or even contradict the motion – say the raising of a closed fist when the story seemed headed for a romantic kiss to end the scene – simply because it went against the direction of the dialogue they were speaking.

Of course, sometimes by focusing so hard on making the puppeteer look good, unintentional – and borderline “over the line” comedy ensues. At one school show, a puppet scene was going like gangbusters, with the two actors and young puppeteers working in complete tandem. It had progressed to the point where both actors had picked up props and costume pieces (with the help of their assistants, of course) and were moving all over the stage.

Unfortunately, at this point, one puppeteer turned her improviser in such a way that the prop she was holding – a long pool noodle that was representing a sword in the scene – rammed right into the rear end of the other actor, who had just been turned to face the other direction. Trying to accept the accidental offer, but at the same time, attempting to avoid “killing” her scene partner (very rarely a good idea) all that the poor improviser could think to say was, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to penetrate you from behind.”

Needless to say, it brought the house down…

After the show, she was mortified, but thankfully, the school officials understood and in the end (tee-hee) everyone went home happy.