I'm running out of excuses to not write comedy

I just heard on a podcast that the difference between improv and comedy writing is typing.

 Hard to argue.

A Improv Mantra

I just picked up a storytelling RPG called Fiasco, and I'm pretty psyched to try it out. It's tagline is:

A Game of Powerful Ambition and Poor Impulse Control

Powerful Ambition and poor impulse control sounds like a great way to approach playing a character. I'm keeping that one in my toolbelt.

Another round of house teams done

The latest round of house teams at the SCIT has come to an end. Sad times as always, Field Trip and Skunda were really fun, really interesting groups. I don't know if it's just me being able to notice things more but the SCIT house teams seem to be getting more unique as the rounds go on. That is to say there seems to be more group "personality" with each iteration.

This might be because we have more vets on the teams, or maybe the coaches are coaching differently now that people know Harold more... whatever it is it's great. I love teams that play in a way that is uniquely theirs. Not just the mechanisms of their set (openings, edit styles, etc. Although it's great that that has been getting more experimental) but in their "feel". 

I can't wait to see the next batch!

Hell Yeah Workshop Observations

Last week I was fortunate enough to be able to take a workshop with Ric Walker  (Second City, Improvised Shakespeare) at the SCIT. The timing was perfect for me.  I had been slogging in the flat bottom of a slump and desperately needed something to kick my ass out.

The workshop, titled Hell Yeah! (a good sign) touched on several aspects of scenework orbiting the concept of  staying focused on the now and agreeing the shit out of what's being offered.  That first clause was the Big Deal for me. I'm a recovering scene-writer, and I'm constantly letting my brain do things like "OK, this is where we need to go", or "We need to set this up so we can bring that thing up again". Ugh. Just be happy and present in the moment. Everything else will come. Trust trust trust.

  Ric had several pieces of advice that I loved (and will now possibly misinterpret) :

• Your ideas are not precious - You can't have ego about your ideas. If the scene moves beyond it (or if they just get dropped to the ground, or interrupted before they get out, or etc etc), stay on the leading edge of the scene. It's going to be ok. Don't get an idea and block everything else out until you get to fire it off. This happens all the time. Someone will get the first five words of a sentence out, get interrupted by their partner, then say the exact same sentence they were going to say. Totally ignoring what their partner just said. 
• Give graciously. Take Boldly. - Boy I love this phrase. It's going up there with "If you're not having fun, you're the asshole". It's one of those "Oh Duh" mantras. Of course I should present my offers like gifts. Of course I should not shove my ideas down people's throats. Of course I should always be enthusiastic in building on someone's offer. Of course  I shouldn't be hesitant of the And of the Yes And.
• Gratitude.  Another thing I often forget, and something that dovetails with the whole "have fun up there, you asshole" idea: Always be grateful for what's being offered in a scene. When you judge that shit, things fall apart. I know I've internally rolled my eyes at some choices. And I've seen myself on tape taking an awful split-second moment on stage doing it.  That ain't good. It's selfish. When you're playing, play. Appreciate every scene. They might not all be winners, but you have to take the mediocre with good, the terrible with the great. If you start getting in a sad or mad spiral, the show's going to tank.

Really great workshop, so much fun. Welcome to Pittsburgh, Ric!

Ooof.

I don't know which feels ickier when reviewing a performance: seeing yourself holding back too much or seeing yourself steamrolling a scene. 

(For the record, I think holding back is the worse of the two. But then again, I'm a loudmouth)

WC Fields: Playing the Game

A very simple game, played for 10 minutes. Beautiful reactions and simmering resentment from Fields.

Listen for the groan at 4:22, gorgeous.

Near. Far. Near. Far. Near. Far.

Heed the monster's words: know the difference between near and far. Near is amped-up emotion. Far is detachment. Near is love. Far is betrayal. Near is the breaking point. Far is broken beyond repair. Near is about to throw a punch. Far is packing up to leave. Near is first kiss. Far is goodbye.

Physical proximity can map very effectively to emotional distance. In scene work exploit this. If you're a couple in a scene talking about loving each other, goddamn it touch each other. If you are repulsed, literally be repulsed. You'll also find that the drives the other way: a hug or hand on the shoulder can convey an enormous amount of information.

Using the space and touch between yourself and your scene mate can enhance the emotional dynamic you're playing with; it's a boost to the tension and the release. It's like emotional MSG. 

Most of the time, I see people comfortable with the far side of things, but more reticent about near stuff. So get all comfy. I like to do scenes where the you spend the whole time dancing with your partner:  forcing the touch and closeness, and hopefully breaking down the politeness/fear/social ineptness that we let prevent us from getting near. The scene ends up being talking heads but can still be compelling as the emotional gradient is explored.

That said, don't be a creep.