If you’ve just joined us recently, welcome! Below you’ll find some of our most-read topics to date, so pull up a bentwood chair and enjoy.
Harold & Long-Form
Great Guest Posts
Random Fun Stuff
If you’ve just joined us recently, welcome! Below you’ll find some of our most-read topics to date, so pull up a bentwood chair and enjoy.
Harold & Long-Form
Great Guest Posts
Random Fun Stuff
A blog post about blogging? Why the hell not?
St. Louis-based writer/improviser Ben Noble interviewed us recently for his improv blog, I’m Making All This Up. The result is exactly the mix of earnest (me) and funny (Cameron) you’d expect. Click here or below to read. Thanks, Ben!
Matt Holmes (below, left) performs improvised shows with a stranger in Philadelphia. Neil Curran (right) does the same thing across Ireland. They connected recently to talk about their experiences, and the improv scene on both sides of the pond.
P&C: How is performing with a non-improviser different from performing with someone who understands “Yes, and”?
NC: I find that eventually the audience member naturally realises that they should “yes, and”, even though they don’t know what they’re doing.
MH: I think everybody has a child-like sense of playing and creating, somewhere inside.
NC: Yes, the less experience the better. They’re pure of heart then!
Neil: What attracted you to the format, and what inspired you to do it?
Matt: It sort of came about organically for me. There wasn’t one particular impetus for it. It was kind of an experiment. I liked the idea of coming up with the idea myself.
Neil: How does it feel to be at the forefront with the format?
Matt: I really like advising other people about this kind of show and seeing what variations people make.
I’ve found that people can take the basic notion and tailor it to themselves with little adjustments. I’m very loose with it, but I like seeing similar shows that frame it uniquely for the performer doing it.
Neil: I’d love to try to do it with yourself and two audience members, as a foursome.
Matt: Oh, I never would’ve thought of that. We should pitch that for some festival.
Matt: What’s your history with improv in general?
Neil: I grew up immersed in theatre. My mother is an actor and a drama teacher/examiner, so from an early age I was involved in theatre in some form.
I always had a love for improv though, and while improv in the drama world is often different to what we do, it was the liberation and freedom that came with it that I loved. No restrictions.
Whose Line Is It Anyway? was also running when I was a teenager, and I was addicted to it. Imitating games with friends, it was my favourite show on TV, and Ryan Stiles became a hero.
Later in life, I set up a theatre group in Dublin that held weekly drop-in workshops. Improv was used a lot in those classes, so I started to take improv more seriously, short-form first, but the lightbulb moment wasn’t until I was introduced to a UK improv troupe, The Maydays, and in particular, John Cremer.
That’s when everything changed for me. John is one of the most inspiring teachers I’ve met, and their skill at long form made me want to work hard at being the best long-form performer that I could be. Through The Maydays, I was introduced to other great teachers, such as Jason Chin, and Marshall and Nancy behind Zenprov.
Matt: I don’t know what improv is like in the UK or in Ireland.
Neil: The improv scene in Ireland was very small. There was a very long-running, successful short-form group in Dublin (Dublin Comedy Improv), but no one was really doing long form.
So I started to teach long form and performing it with the troupe I was playing with at the time, Laughalot Improv. I think we performed Dublin’s first Harold, but I could be mistaken.
Over time, my workshop numbers grew and grew. I now have four levels that I teach. More and more long form groups have been sprouting up. It’s fantastic.
Matt: Your story is surprisingly similar to mine. I was semi-aware of improv as something that actors do and that comedians learn before getting on Saturday Night Live or MADTV, but then Whose Line really crystallized it into a specific idea.
I was shy and never would’ve gotten on stage, even though I was really interested in performance. Then I tried short-form in college and shifted into long-form after college, starting up Philly’s small comedy scene with shows and classes and workshops.
And now I have that same situation as you, with lots of groups sprouting up around me.
Neil: It was challenging trying to continuously train at long form, as I had to go to the UK to learn. Fortunately, The Maydays run intensives, which proved hugely beneficial.
I then met a lady who used to live in the U.S. but lives in Galway, Ireland, now and has since become a very good friend: Órla Mc Govern. Órla is an actor and a veteran long form improviser. She performed with a number of groups in Seattle and beyond before moving back to Ireland.
Matt: For me, the improv festival circuit was a great way to learn more about improv via experts from Chicago, New York, Toronto, etc.
That was where I really leveled up and incorporated those different approaches, along with learning by teaching others and having to get my head around it all.
Neil: How do you find being independent of the Chicago/New York/LA scene influences your improv?
Matt: I think it has allowed me to pick and choose what works for me personally.
Neil: Yes! I find that’s the same in Europe.
Matt: I feel like being separated from the “official way” to do it has kept me open to all kinds of styles, interpretations, and influences.
I think improvisers in those saturated places go through one specific idea of what improv means. Some do multiple tracks or branch out with an intensive at another institution, but they’re still these firm routes.
Neil: I agree, and we’re witnessing almost a hybrid style emerge in Europe, which is truly wonderful.
Matt: How is improv different in Ireland/UK/Europe from other places you’ve been?
Neil: The UK scene is very evolved, although players there may disagree. However, things are really flourishing, and there are some tour de force acts there. The scene in Europe is growing rapidly, with more and more festivals emerging. The sense of community is huge.
Matt: What do you mean by “evolved”?
Neil: I mean that there are some high-calibre groups doing cutting-edge things. The standard is very high.
Matt: I see. How is the material itself different (if it is)? I’ve read about cultural differences that led to improv in Latin America being different in style from American/Canadian/European improv.
Neil: You see less improv events here being marketed as Armando nights or Harold nights, etc. because frankly audiences don’t know what it means, nor do they care.
Troupes are developing their own formats and styles, putting their own slant on things. Slapping ‘Chicago long-form improv’ on a poster in Europe won’t sell seats to non-improvisers, as people don’t know what that means.
Matt: Are people doing Harold/Armando/etc. or just “long-form” and their own new stuff?
Neil: It’s a mix, to be honest.
One of my goals (and Órla’s) in Ireland is to establish long form improv as an art form in the eyes of the arts community and media, beyond the improv community.
Matt: Philadelphia is such a theatre town. It would be great to have more-artistic improv connected to that realm.
Neil: I agree. I try to stage as much of the Neil+1 shows in theatres as I can.
Órla’s troupe, The Sky Babies, have been accepted into the Galway Theatre Festival, a first for any theatre festival in Ireland. Their show The Suitcase is very much a great example of improvised theatre.
As awesome as Whose Line is, to the people not familiar with improv, they assume that Whose Line is all there is to improv.
When I first announced Improv Fest Ireland, one journalist asked me “How do you expect to entertain audiences for a week of just Whose Line Is It Anyway?-type shows?”
Matt: I’ve had that same kind of experience. Nine times out of 10, I can tell what people are thinking when I say “improv.”
Matt: What sparked the original idea for you to try performing with an audience member?
Neil: It’s somewhat unorthodox. I travel a lot with work and otherwise, but when I was in my first improv troupe, not everyone could afford to travel or want to, and I always wanted to take a show on the road.
So I asked myself, “Can I perform improv solo, so that I only have to worry about myself when I travel when arranging a show?”
There was the whole taboo of using the audience as guest performers. That’s when I met you. I believe your words were “Just book the gig and see how it goes”!
Matt: I didn’t think about how well the set-up works for the road until I had been doing it a while.
Neil: Yes, for me Neil+1 evolved quite rapidly as my confidence grew. The first show was very successful, so that set the stage.
Matt: You do an hour-long show. Did you start off doing it that way?
Neil: Now it’s an hour long. When I was finding my footing with the show, I moved into turning it into a narrative piece, and the extended time came naturally.
Matt: I’ve done shows to fit any timeframe: 15 minutes, 30 minutes, 45-ish minutes, but a full hour seems daunting.
Neil: To me, I make the show completely about the audience member. They play themselves. The show tends to be an alternate universe view of what their life could be like, or could have been like.
I play with the formats too. So I have the general “anything goes” Neil+1 format, but since November I also have the Boy Seeks Girl format, where the interview is actually a first date.
Matt: I was going to ask about that new take on it.
Neil: The new take is interesting, it’s a study into our dating lives, I guess. I had a “Eureka!” moment when I performed Neil+1 in San Francisco a while ago. The audience member became teary after the show.
I had played his father in a few of the scenes. There was a fallout and a reconciliation in the show. He told me afterward that his father had died over a year previous, but the show had been the first time he had emotionally connected to his father’s passing since the funeral. He was very grateful for the experience.
I realised that the show can become an avenue to explore aspects of our lives. Boy Seeks Girl became the next obvious step for me.
I’m debuting a new format this year called You’re Dead! which goes a step further, and the opening interview is set at the gates to the afterlife, and we talk about the audience member’s review of their life, regrets, etc.
Matt: Do you see these formats presenting the show as theatre that just happens to be improvised, as opposed to being an improv show?
Neil: It’s hard to say. I see the show as improvised theatre. One reviewer called it interactive theatre. I often say spontaneous theatre.
The labels though are really for connecting with the non-improvising public and media. At the end of the day, it’s long-form improv, and proudly so.
What I love about the format is you can’t bullshit your way throughout. You have to work hard to make the show work, and you have to make your co-star look awesome.
If we learn in improv there is no wrong way to do it and to make your partner look good, then it shouldn’t matter what experience your co-star has.
P&C: Do you ever worry about the people you bring onstage with you clamming up, or not giving you enough to work with?
Matt: For me, it can occasionally be a challenge. I’ve learned to accept and welcome that hesitancy. It makes it all the more wondrous when they do open up and play along.
Neil: Never. The only thing I worry about is alcohol.
If I ‘yes, and’ the whole way and respect the way the audience member feels, then there is nothing to fear. It’s important to be conscious of how the audience member is really feeling.
Matt: You worry about your partner being drunk?
Neil: Yes, I would worry if I selected someone who had been drinking.
Matt: Some of my best shows have been with tipsier partners.
Neil: That’s interesting. I wouldn’t be comfortable with it. We don’t perform with improvisers who are drunk, so the thought of performing with a drunk audience member is not something I’m keen on!
Matt: I think it’s different, because that person is not an improviser. They exist in a limbo between performer and audience.
P&C: Do you find that this kind of show is more “real” than a lot of the regular improv you do?
Matt: I think it’s remarkable how similar it is to a regular improv duo. There’s an added element from bringing somebody from the audience onstage, but the material itself is usually like any other improv of equal caliber.
I don’t consider it a solo show or just some gimmick. My audience partner is my partner, who just happens to be from the audience.
It does have a kind of coalesced quality to it, though, like it’s pure and cooked down: freebase improv.
Neil: I think it can be more real. And that’s why I make the narrative about the audience member. Their feelings on stage are real. Their emotion tends to be more raw and real.
I agree it’s not a gimmick. The audience member is your co-star. They get laughs, and they cause the audience to emote.
Matt: I’m struck by how such similar shows can be so different. Your show seems like it’s a bit more dramatic and theatrical than mine, especially with your partners playing themselves.
Neil: It felt like where I excel better; let the audience member be himself or herself, and I will play all the other characters.
Matt: I’ve had some partners who revert to being themselves and also try to get me to be myself, which is not comfortable for me.
I like to get into a scene with different characters and situations and have it feel like somebody from the audience has been pulled in, like Alice going through the looking glass, or Pleasantville.
P&C: How do audiences respond to this kind of show, versus other improv sets? Is there a difference?
Matt: I’ve still gotten audiences who don’t understand how improv works, that there are no planned parts, or how we use the suggestion, but still loved the show.
And I’ve also gotten audiences that get a clearer picture of the fact that we’re making it up as we go, because the audience member on stage is kind of a stand-in.
Neil: Interesting question. I asked Will Luera his opinion when he saw my show. I was interested to find out if the audience liked the show because I and my guest survived, or because it was an entertaining show. He said it’s both.
So I guess it gives an additional edge for the audience. The element of risk is perceived to be higher.
Matt: There are more layers to our shows. Every improv show has the performance and then an underlying game of being improvised. It’s more transparent in this case.
I think it’s the kind of thing that really grabs a new viewer, but also an experienced performer who can see what’s being done.
Neil: True. Audience reactions vary from being entertained and impressed, to claiming the show was rehearsed and a stooge was used.
After one show, I overheard one audience member in the bar ridicule the show because he believed my guest was clearly trained and scripted. As funny and complimentary as that is, it’s unlikely I’ll see that guy in the audience again. He probably now thinks all improv is scripted!
Matt: I love hearing audiences question whether a show is improvised.
Matt: What has surprised you most about doing this?
Neil: It never ceases to amaze me how, eventually, every audience member will naturally realise it’s better to ‘yes, and’ than to block.
Obviously, he or she will have no idea what they are doing or even know what ‘yes, and’ is, but every show, at a certain point, the “Eureka!” moment kicks in.
To me, that’s when the magic really happens.
P&C: Have you ever had a show that just bombed? What happened?
Neil: Not bombed, but I have had very challenging shows.
I had one show where my guest went through a random pattern of accepting reality and then denying it a moment or two later. It kept me on my toes and really re-emphasised the need to listen hard and justify more.
I had another show where the guest just asked questions for most of the show. That was also challenging.
Matt: I had a bunch of shows that just didn’t click into place. It was really more about me as a performer than about this unique set-up.
I think all improvisers hit slumps like that and need to get back on track.
Neil: What has doing this format taught you about yourself?
Matt: I think I’ve found that it’s possible to make the best of your strengths and your weaknesses.
This show builds on my natural talents, but it also takes my bad habits (for a standard improv show) and makes them into necessary elements.
I think this kind of pet project can allow for more exploration about what’s important for an individual artist.
P&C: Have you ever stayed in touch with anyone you’ve performed with in this way?
Matt: I’ll chat with them after the show, and sometimes I’ll get an email or something.
More than once, I’ve had a partner return to the show with friends or family members, hoping to see them go through the same experience.
Neil: Occasionally. Two of my guests took up improv classes after taking part in the show. With others, we connected after on Facebook, and more often than not we have a beer in the bar after.
I’m planning on doing t-shirts for future shows that say something like “I was Neil’s +1” so I can leave a physical memento for the guest.
I haven’t had any tell me after that they had a negative experience, and that’s the most important thing.
Matt: Yeah, I just think that the person gets as much of a kick out of playing with us as we do from playing with them.
Matt Holmes has been performing, teaching, and directing improv since 1998, including “Best new house team” Hey Rube at Philly Improv Theater, and “arguably the best improv group Philly has ever produced,” Rare Bird Show.
Neil Curran has been performing and teaching improv for many years and has a passion for formats involving audience members. He also performs with the Poets of Penance, and is the founder and Artistic Director of Improv Fest Ireland.
For over a decade TJ Jagodowski and David Pasquesi have wowed fans and critics alike with their two-man show. Last year they opened their own theater, The Mission. And now they’ve co-written a book with Pam Victor, whose blog chronicles her own improv journey while celebrating the work of others. We asked them about (what else?) improv, on the eve of the book’s launch.
P&C: You’re both busy acting in films, TV, web series, on stage, and now running a theatre. Why did you decide to write a book?
TJ: Circumstances seemed to conspire. All around the same time, David and I had both separately started jotting down some mad ramblings and then Pam offered to help us if we ever decided to write something.
P&C: Pam, how did you get involved with TJ and Dave, and specifically the book?
Pam: I’m slowly releasing the long answer to this question in a new series called “Writing The TJ & Dave Book” on my blog – it’s a real behind-the-book look into my experiences over the last two years. Lots of sex, shoe-throwing, and gore. (OK, that’s not true at all.) But here’s the short answer: I’ve been a ginormous fan of the show pretty much since the first moment I saw it, which was in the documentary Trust Us, This Is All Made Up. When they did a show in Western Massachusetts, where I live and TJ just so happens to be from, it was sold out, but I just had to get in. So I showed up, ticket-less, at the door and somehow begged my way in. When the lights came back up fifty-three minutes later, my life was forever changed.
After the show, I screwed up my courage and introduced myself to Dave. He was (and is) utterly charming, so I asked him if he’d be willing to do a “Geeking Out with…” interview with me. For some reason he said yes. That seemed to turn out pretty well, which lead to TJ’s “Geeking Out with…” interview, conducted in his living room while I was in Chicago for the five-week iO Intensive. Once those interviews were published, I wasn’t ready to stop being in their heads. I emailed them to say as much, suggesting that they should write a book and offering to be the one to help them with it. (I’m a little ballsy that way.) For some reason, they agreed. That was in the Fall of 2012, and I’m still waiting to wake up from the dream.
P&C: What can readers expect from the book?
TJ: I think they can expect a really thorough examination of how we think about improvising, which is a big thing we really love.
Pam: Basically, I spent two years asking TJ and David every single darn question I could come up with about how they approach improvisation, mostly within their show but also a bit as it applies to other shows. I think our hope is that readers can find an insight or two that they can take back and try out on their own. These gentlemen really have a unique approach to improvisation – it might seem pretty different than what we’re seeing out there these days in most comedy schools – so I’m personally hoping that readers will simply expand their views of how one could improvise
P&C: The book is called Improvisation at the Speed of Life. What do you mean by that?
David: As opposed to any pre-determined speed. Like slow or fast.
TJ: That we would like our improvisation to represent reality. To look and feel real and in that, move at all the different paces the real world moves at.
P&C: What’s unique about your approach, versus the way others improvise?
David: I think we look at it as realizing what is already occurring, as opposed to what we can make it into.
TJ: I think we play how most of us were taught to. Moment by moment, focused on your partner and what is happening. So, I’m not sure if we are unique, but if we are then a lot of folks have abandoned their education.
P&C: You’re both so respected and your show so well loved. Why aren’t there more people doing what you do?
David: Ask them. Actually I think there are people doing two-person stuff.
TJ: I think there is a lot of two-person improvisation going on. We are lucky in that we have been doing it a long time and get a long time on a given night to do it.
P&C: You’ve been performing as a duo for 13 years – longer than some marriages. How have you been influenced by each other’s style, or has your style evolved together?
David: We don’t agree totally on everything, but we certainly agree on the larger ideas about improvisation and what it is capable of delivering if we allow it to.
TJ: I think we have remained almost completely unevolved. We are still chasing the thing we started chasing 13 years ago in much the same way we began. I dont know if we have individual styles but if so, I still feel David is very much David and I still I.
P&C: TJ, you said in an interview that improv is often about “Why is this day different?” whereas you’re more interested in “Why is this day the same?” Is that something you consciously do on stage: look for the everyday?
TJ: I would say more than looking for everyday, I don’t look to find how this is different. It seems unnecessary to me. An audience has never met these characters before, so why do they have to be different than they normally are? I think that way of thinking is employed so that there is action or emotion to your play. But there is action and emotion in the things that happen everyday. And even if nothing big happens, David and I would prefer to honestly bore people than fabricate a meteor strike.
P&C: David, you’ve said that Del Close taught you to be honest and authentic in scenes, versus funny. Do you think improvisers shy away from honesty because they’re afraid of being vulnerable, or afraid of audiences not laughing?
David: I suppose so. But Del also said that onstage you can afford to tell the truth…no one will believe it’s you.
P&C: There’s a lot of emphasis in curriculum nowadays on game of the scene. How do you think this is shaping improvisers or improv in general?
David: I’m not real sure what that means, so I cannot comment on it. I am not a student in class and I am not one who writes or follows a curriculum, so I am unqualified to say.
TJ: I don’t know how it’s shaping improvisation in general. I know that I don’t think it’s needed in improvisation. It serves a certain function in a style of play, but a good scene certainly doesn’t need a game.
P&C: Actors are strongly encouraged to have improv training, yet few improvisers seem interested in taking acting lessons. Do you see that as a problem, or just the evolution of the art form?
TJ: I don’t know if it’s a problem, but if an acting class would benefit your improvising then I see no reason why you wouldn’t want to do that. Sometimes we turn improvisation into sketch, and being able to act those sketches would be of real use as well.
David: I think it’s very helpful to learn to listen more and be more present. On more than one occasion I was told by the director that I got the job in a play because of how I listened. That is directly from training and practice in improvisation.
P&C: You don’t go “meta” on stage. How do you feel about shows that do that?
TJ: It sooo rarely goes well in my opinion that I think it’s better to avoid it altogether. Things often seem to go meta when the show isn’t going well, as a way to step out and away from it like you’re not really doing it anymore, so you can feel free to comment on it and acknowledge it as something separate from yourself. Also, once you go meta you almost never get your show back into non-meta thinking. And I as an audience am now taught that this scene may not be there to be believed, but is there to be referred to or stepped out of
P&C: What are some other shows or performers you’ve seen whose work you enjoy?
David: Beer Shark Mice. I love watching them. They know each other so well, it’s like one person rather than five guys. Dassie and Stef Weir, Scott Adsit…tons of folks. Literal tons. (Or tonnes for your British and Irish and Australian readers.)
TJ: I love the whole cast of our theater’s sketch revue, our house ensemble, Michael O’Brien, Gethard, Trio, Quartet…this would truly be a very long list, so I’m going to stop.
P&C: Mick Napier jokingly (well, kind of) referred to improv as a cult. How important is it to cultivate other interests and experiences?
TJ: When I first started, I was totally immersed in it. I think that helped me for a while. My passion was really intense and I had a lot to learn, tons of stage time to benefit from, new friendships to form. But at some point I realized I was talking about scenes I saw or was in as though they really happened out in the world. I got kind of scared that all my experiences would be imaginary, so I found a better balance in my life after that.
P&C: At the start of each show you say, “Trust us, this is all made up.” Trust is obviously a huge factor in how you play together. Do you think it’s possible to have that kind of trust with larger teams of players?
David: It is. I have had it. I think good group improvisation requires that trust.
P&C: What is it about improv that’s kept you doing it for over 25 years?
David: Still trying to do the same things. Trying to do them better, with more ease and grace. It always is exciting to see what is going to happen.
TJ: It lived up to its promise. It’s different every time and on any given night it may be the most wonderful thing in the world. Why would someone not want that possibilty in their lives?
Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ & Dave Book is available for pre-order at amazon.com. Chapters include:
• The Job of an Improviser
• Being a Good Stage Partner
• Listening (No, We Mean Really Listening)
• Shut Up (No, We Mean Really Shut Up)
• Fuck The Rules
• The Importance of Disagreement in Agreement
• Being Funny Isn’t The Goal
• Don’t Step in That: Dealing with Trouble
• Taking the Next Little Step
• The People We Play
• Details and Specificity
Bears & Balls: The Colbert Report A-Z is the definitive guide to the Peabody-winning satire that rewrote the rules of comedy. We asked co-author and superfan Sharilyn Johnson for the truthiness, the whole truthiness, and nothing but the truthiness.
P&C: You’ve been covering comedy for 16 years, in print, radio, and with your blog, third-beat.com. When did you first become aware of Stephen Colbert, and were you a fan from the start?
SJ: I was a loyal Daily Show viewer when Colbert was still there, but I wasn’t a fan of the correspondents. At the time, the field pieces still had a bit of the “weird news” angle, and I often didn’t feel good about their choice of targets. It felt like they were making fun of well-meaning people. I didn’t pay close attention to Colbert until I saw him on a Daily Show panel in 2005 at the Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal. The energy and warmth he had in that context totally sold me. By the time the Report premiered that fall, I already had a sense of what was underneath the character, which made me appreciate the show more. Attending my first taping the following summer put me in overdrive.
P&C: Your book, Bears & Balls: The Colbert Report A-Z covers almost a decade. How has the show evolved over the years?
SJ: It’s been fascinating watching some of the old, lesser-known clips again. In the show’s initial eight weeks, in late 2005, the character was very heavy-handed. His voice was different. And he was a bit more of a jerk at the beginning, when the show was intended to directly mirror The O’Reilly Factor. It did find its stride quickly, though. Within the first year, the show started creating its own world, with its own rules, and the execution of the character loosened up. These days they really can do anything they want. They can think big, and Colbert is free to openly show the audience how much fun he’s having, both of which result in the show’s greatest moments.
P&C: TCR has a killer team of writers, including Stephen. How do you think his improv background has helped with his character and the show itself?
SJ: The majority of his writers have improv backgrounds. They typically work in teams of two to generate material, so collaboration is part of the process from the start. I think they use their improv brains to approach their writing the same way any improviser would. In any news story, they’d be looking for that “first unusual thing.” In the book, we talk a bit about the construction of The Word, and you could look at the verbal portion of that segment as an “If this, then what?” thought process.
As for Colbert himself, his interviews are perhaps the most obvious illustration of his improv skills at work. He has some prepared questions, but for the most part he’s reacting to the guest’s responses as his character. He’s also an incredible listener. Viewers might not realize that, because his character listens to nobody. That’s something we’ll see more overtly when he takes over the Late Show.
He’s sometimes talked about how at Second City, he learned to wear his character “as lightly as a cap.” I think his ability to show his humanity underneath the character has been an essential, if not the most essential, ingredient to the show’s longevity. Viewers would’ve gotten tired of “Stephen” if there wasn’t something else there to connect with.
P&C: When Kissinger was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, Tom Lehrer said that political satire was obsolete. Why do you think TCR (and TDS) are so popular?
SJ: Aside from being hilarious? It used to be just the politicians who told you what to believe and what to think. Now it’s “journalists” doing it. People have this overwhelming sense of wanting to call bullshit on everything that’s being fed to them, but don’t know where to start. I think Colbert, Jon Stewart, and John Oliver are doing that for us. (But mostly, it’s that they’re hilarious.)
P&C: The Colbert Report is so brilliant night after night, it’s hard to think of highlights. That said, what are some of your favourite segments or episodes?
SJ: There are some obvious ones. Walk up to any Colbert fan and utter the word “Munchma,” and watch them dissolve in giggles. The Super PAC stuff was brilliantly executed. The Daft Punk episode was incredible, even more so when you learn what happened leading up to it. The Wheat Thins “sponsortunity” was proof positive that sometimes the simplest idea is the best idea. An early 2006 episode that had both the Charlene video and Stephen’s Laws of Love was a great one-two punch.
As far as lesser-cited ones? There’s a segment from 2011 called “Close Sesame” where he incompetently does the “marshmallow test” on himself. It’s pure clown and just wonderfully, innocently dumb. He was clearly having a blast performing it, too.
The band Gorillaz, which is made up of animated characters, was on the show but “Stephen” refused to interview the real guys behind the characters. He stormed off the set and returned in his own street clothes to interview them as the mild-mannered “Steve Colbert,” which was a wonderful reality-bending meta moment.
For the medical segment Cheating Death, he introduced a fake medical product called Vaxa-Mime, and did a great little mime routine to go with it. I’ve heard he did killer object work as an improviser, which I would’ve loved to have seen.
And obviously, I’m partial to the 13 episodes that I saw live in the studio.
P&C: Was there anything you learned about Colbert while writing this book that you didn’t expect?
SJ: Is it egotistical of me to say “no”? There might’ve been if this was a celebrity biography, because I’m not really interested in his personal life and I just don’t retain that information. But I’m deeply interested in his work, as is my co-author [Remy Maisel], and that was our focus. I like to say that I’ve been researching this book for nine years. The hardest part about writing it was compiling the citations. Almost every little-known detail in it was something one or both of us had been carrying around in our noggins all this time, but we had to go back and find legitimate sources for them. It was almost like writing the book backwards.
P&C: A lot of TCR fans (ourselves included) are gutted at the loss of his character. While we understand the demands of the show, he did so much that transcends mere satire (the Super PAC, the White House Correspondents Dinner, his championing of Hachette authors, to name a few). What do you think the show’s legacy will be?
SJ: That’s hard to say. Many fans view this as the loss of a great political satirist. How political he’ll actually be at CBS remains to be seen, but even though the character will be gone, the point of view that informed the character will live on. Stephen will continue to view the world partially through that lens. He’ll just express that point of view in different ways. Plus, so many of his greatest bits on the Report are entirely apolitical. He could deliver a segment like Cheating Death in his own voice as a traditional talk show desk bit, and it would still work.
Something like the Super PAC, or his run for president, or even going back to the Green Screen Challenge — these are all games he’s played with his audience. He has a very unique relationship with viewers, and I think we’ll look back at that as something that couldn’t be recreated. The sense that we’re all in conspiracy with each other to create this world and propel these games forward.
I think the legacy of The Colbert Report will be determined largely by what the Late Show turns out to be. None of us have a clue what that is yet. But I sure am looking forward to finding out.
Bears & Balls is available now in paperback and Kindle editions. Click here to order.
Sharilyn Johnson has been an entertainment reporter since 1995, focusing on comedy since 1998. Her blog, Third Beat Magazine, has been called “the Wikileaks of comedy” by CBC Radio. Her comedy coverage has also appeared in the Winnipeg Free Press and the Toronto Star, and she’s appeared on CBC Radio’s LOL and Definitely Not the Opera.
Rob Norman is a pillar of the Toronto – make that Canadian – improv community. If you’ve seen him perform or taken a class, you’re a fan. We asked him about the serious subject of make-’em-ups on the eve of launching his new book, Improvising Now: A Practical Guide To Modern Improv.
P&C: You’re one of the busiest improvisers we know. You act on TV, do The Backline podcast with Adam Cawley, teach at Second City and Bad Dog Theatre, and perform with Mantown, Filthy, and other teams. How did you find time to write a book?
RN: Finding the time wasn’t a problem. As a comedian, you work nights, leaving your days free. I have some friends who spend that time going to the gym or taking acting classes. Instead I wrote a book. It took me seven years and my body looks disgusting when naked. But I wrote a book.
P&C: How did you get started in improv?
RN: I was part of a youth community theatre group producing musicals at this huge 500-seat theatre. As a side project, I offered to put together a small improv show. The Board (consisting of one 26-year-old and a bunch of teenagers) approved it. So I went out, found a copy of Truth In Comedy, and auditioned 16 people to be in the cast. I was in Grade 11 teaching longform that I had never seen or done myself.
I’m sure the improv was terrible. And I was a terrible teacher. But we did it for three years to sold-out crowds. I’ve been doing jobs that I’m unqualified to do ever since.
Fun fact: In that original troupe was Steve Hobbs (El Fantoma) and Joel Buxton (The Sketchersons). They both work as teachers at the Second City Training Centre now.
P&C: What’s been the biggest change you’ve seen since you started?
RN: So much has changed! When I started Second City had gone bankrupt. The Bad Dog was struggling. The only company doing longform was collapsing. No audiences. No mentors.
Toronto improv is better now than it ever has been. Improv shows sell out. Consistently. Improvisers are booking TV and film, but sticking around to build the live comedy scene.
It’s the kind of comedy boom I dreamed of when I was first starting.
I used to get made fun of because I was so eager. I had read every improv book. I knew the Second City archives better than my teachers. I was a very special kind of improv nerd. There is an army of beginner improvisers mastering Game of the Scene, shortform and narrative structures early in their career. It’s a work ethic that makes my generation look uneducated and lazy.
P&C: Your book is subtitled “A Practical Guide to Modern Improv.” How do you define “modern”?
RN: I teach a lot of improv classes. And there are some lessons that I’ll look at and think, “I have never used this technique onstage. No one I know does this onstage. Why am I teaching it?”
Improv has changed so much since the 1980’s. Not only our own improv vocabulary, but also the expectations of our audience. You have to be faster. More direct. More revealing of yourself.
For me, modern improv is the techniques, tricks, and tips that improv professionals are using onstage right now. I don’t want to hear anecdotes of how improv used to be. I want to know what I can do tonight onstage.
P&C: Do you think it’s necessary to learn different styles of improv, or is it possible to fall in love with one approach and stick with it – even though you also perform outside your particular theatre?
RN: Modern improv is a mosaic. You are responsible for knowing all of it. Personally, I tackled each of them one at a time (I should say, I am tackling them…)
It’s not about forcing your style on a show. It’s about understanding the dominant energy of the room, and complementing that shared mental model.
P&C: Do you think it’s possible to unlearn bad habits (blocking, dropping offers, etc), especially if an improviser has been doing them for years?
RN: Sure! But I don’t believe in good improv/bad improv. There’s tons of improvisers bulldozing, blocking, dropping offers – AND getting paid for it. Really good players doing “bad moves” that audiences and other improvisers love. The difference for the experts is that these moves are choices. They come from a place of power.
Your desire to block, be negative, to avoid being affected by your scene partner, is a symptom of a more fundamental problem: your fear, panic, or issues with control. Don’t unlearn anything. Try something new. Find another path. Focus on doing something you’ve never done been before. Way better than using your psychic energy to avoid doing something you always do onstage.
P&C: What do you think separates good improvisers from great ones?
RN: Talent is an exceptional love of something. Some people LOVE being funny onstage. Others LOVE the act of improvising. I want to play with people who understand the craft, who cultivate technique, and get off on building something with someone else.
P&C: A lot of improv teams break up or dissolve within months. Very few last more than a couple of years. What’s the secret to long-running teams like Mantown?
RN: Friendship. Adam, Jason and I have been best friends for ten years. I didn’t know Bob Banks and Rob Baker incredibly well when we started working together. But over eight years you become incredibly close. Ending Mantown would be like ending a marriage.
P&C: In the States, a lot of students see improv as a means to get on Second City’s Main Stage, and ultimately, SNL. What about Canada? What do improvisers aspire to here?
RN: Yeah. There’s this idea that you if work hard as an improviser, you’ll get hired for Second City and then whisked away to star on Saturday Night Live. But it’s not true in Canada. And I think that’s increasingly less true in Chicago. Lots of my friends have finished Mainstage or starring on television shows, then gone back to working day jobs.
Your aspirations as a comedian in Canada should be simple: work in comedy. Build things. And then try to sell them. If no one is buying them, build them anyway.
P&C: Do you consider yourself an improviser, an actor, or both?
RN: Improviser. I could star in the best scripted show, and I wouldn’t be satisfied. We’d finished bows and I’d already be in a cab on my way to Comedy Bar. It’s a problem really…
Click here or on the image below to order from Amazon. It’s a must-have for any improviser’s library.
In 2012, Sam Willard began photographing performers as part of an ongoing series called The Improvisors Project. Born out of his fascination with the talent and expressiveness of improv actors, we asked Sam about the project as he prepares to photograph the Chicago Improv Festival.
P&C: You’ve been a professional photographer for 10 years, specializing in portraits. What is it about portraiture specifically that appeals to you?
SAM WILLARD: I started making photographs as an amateur long ago, and I was interested in a variety of subjects. But my eye always went toward people more than anything else. Faces are just so varied and interesting. I have always been a people-watcher, and am curious about what expression, posture, etc say about a person. Portrait photography is, in part, an excuse to look longer and more deeply at a person, to uncover more about what makes them tick. The work of accessing, understanding and capturing someone’s inner self through a portrait session is never boring or repetitive, and is always full of discovery. Kind of like improv.
P&C: You started taking improv classes in 2009. Has it influenced your photography, and if so, how?
SAM WILLARD: When I took my first improv class, I immediately recognized how the act of creating a portrait (and the skills involved in doing it well) are very similar to the act of creating a good improv scene. In both situations, you start with nothing, and have to find a relationship and a reason to connect. The skills I had developed as a photographer–support, engagement, listening–were incredibly useful to my improv scene work. And skills I picked up in improv have definitely helped my portrait work.
More than anything else, improv teaches you that you can find ways to connect with someone, no matter what the situation. In my regular client work, I often get portrait subjects who are distracted, or scared, or at least very self-conscious. Improv has given me tools to cut through their armor, build trust, focus, and create a portrait together that is honest and compelling.
P&C: You have to work quickly, typically spending about five minutes with each person. How do you connect with them in such a short time?
SAM WILLARD: Five minutes is indeed a short time to form a connection. But this is a perfect example of how improv has helped my photography. I performed improv for a long time, and every scene in every show was different; and I didn’t have 5 minutes to figure out an angle and go with it, at best I had 5 seconds! Any improvisor can relate to this.
One of the great things about photographing improvisors is that they are so receptive to a suggestion, and so willing to commit to an emotion, that it really isn’t difficult to make that quick connection, because they are used to doing it on stage. For example, if someone walks on to my set standing tall, chin up, with a slow, confident stride, I might initiate a mini-scene in which they are a general surveying the battlefield after a victory. If confidence and bravado are the emotion, I might play the role of an adoring corporal, eager to celebrate the general’s win and heighten his esteem.
The process of going from an initial hit–bravado–to a moment of peak emotion (and back to baseline again) can be quite fast. With energetic and open improvisors, I can sometimes go through this process of “hit, heighten & reset” several times in a short five minute session.
P&C: Improv attracts a very diverse range of people. After photographing so many different performers, are there any similarities that you see?
SAM WILLARD: As I mentioned earlier, I am attracted to portraiture because every person is different, never repetitive. This holds true with improvisors. However, the common thread is their openness. The average person out in the world has walls and defenses up. Social norms to evaluate. Rules to play by. Much of what we do in life is informed by what we cannot do. The amazing thing about improv is that those rules from out in the world are flipped. On stage, all things are possible, and everything you do and commit to will be embraced and supported by your fellow players. That incredible and precious trait of openness and supportiveness is what I see wherever I go to photograph improvisors.
P&C: You photographed members of The Committee at their 50th anniversary reunion. What was that like?
SAM WILLARD: Attending that event was a special privilege. There was so much talent in the room, many of whom I photographed. The best thing about the experience was seeing the strong bond between those artists. Many of them had not seen each other in years or even decades. But the love in the room was palpable. It reminded me of the great bond that improv creates between performers who play together.
P&C: You’ve got a busy schedule ahead of you. This year you’ll be attending CIF and the Detroit Improv Festival. Is there a difference in energy between shooting people at a festival versus in your studio?
SAM WILLARD: Yes, 2014 is going to be a busy year! I will be at the Chicago Improv Festival April 4-6, and the Detroit Improv Festival August 8-10. And some other photo shoots are in the works, as well.
Festivals are a great venue for making portraits for The Improvisors Project because energy is high and many talented people are gathered in one place. For simple logistical reasons, there are limits to who I can gather to my studio in Oakland, California. Festivals are also an excuse for me to get out and see more of what the wider improv world has to offer. This project has allowed me to meet and photograph so many great people who I would never have had the opportunity to know otherwise. I look forward to starting this year off in Chicago!
P&C: What’s more fun for you: watching the shows, or photographing the performers?
SAM WILLARD: When I am photographing improvisors, I am participating in an improv performance with them. As an improv performer myself, I would always choose to do improv over just watching; so I would have to choose photographing performers as my answer. The photo shoot is a unique experience, different than being on stage. But it is really great. I love it. And the 200+ people I have photographed so far all seem to love the experience too. It is a win-win.
P&C: You’re also attending Camp Improv Utopia. Can you tell us a little about the camp, and your involvement in it?
SAM WILLARD: I attended the first Camp Improv Utopia, a few years ago. The founder, Nick Armstrong, conceived of an improvisor’s paradise, with an old-school summer camp vibe. The camp attracts a diverse group, features great instructors and workshops, and the venue itself (on California’s Central Coast) is beautiful. This year will be my third trip to Camp, and my second year making portraits of improvisors there. It is the best possible environment for making good portraits–positive and creative energy, and people from all over the country.
SAM WILLARD: The best way to stay up-to-date on The Improvisors Project is to follow it on Facebook and Twitter. I post new images regularly, and announce details of upcoming photo shoots. I encourage anyone who is interested in participating to follow on social media, and reach out to me with an email if they want to be photographed. Everywhere I have traveled, I have met nothing but great people in the improv community, and I can’t wait to meet and photograph many more this year. And look for more photo shoots and a book in 2015!
Christian Capozzoli is an actor/improviser/instructor, member of the fiercely funny 4Track, and author of Aerodynamics of Yes: The Improviser’s Manual. We asked him a bunch of stuff, and he was nice enough to answer.
P&C: Why did you decide to write Aerodynamics of Yes? Is there a specific audience you wanted to reach?
CC: I’ve been touring and teaching for about five years now, and often I’ll come into town and have three hours to squeeze in an entire methodology. It’s a pretty big undertaking.
I know that my workshop is all about moving and reacting, but that leaves very little time for the students to take notes. It’s hard to read a billboard on a bullet train, and I’m asking them to play Where’s Waldo? So I wrote the book primarily to supplement my teaching – go back and unpack each lesson with time and care.
I suppose I did it because I also like to write. By no means do I think I’m saying anything new. I’m saying the same old stuff, just I’m saying it my way.
As a Master of Ed and Lit, I try to take into account all types of learners. Some need to move on their feet, others need to hear it explained, or tether it to a metaphor; some just need to see it written down pickled in prose.
P&C: Your book covers a wide range of topics, from improv fundamentals to scene work to formats. How long do you think it takes to truly master these things?
CC: You don’t. It’s forever. The more you do, the more you realize how much more there is. Or how choices can be made in minutiae: from sentences, to words, to syllables, and the gaps between when we speak, the heat and weight of what we say, every second, gesture, eyebrow lift can be filled with choice, colouring our scene.
And just when we learn to react in the now, moment-to-moment or second-to-second, then there will always be nano-seconds.
Improvising with Peter Grosz, I was amazed at how fast he was. How quick and textured. Speed is relative of course, but I don’t know that we ever master it. I think we just get comfortable with that speed, more familiar with these synapses, and we get more comfortable being present and making choices. So comfortable or Zen that it looks like mastery to others.
The less hippy dippy answer: 10 years of time, discipline, performance, rehearsal, and failure would be a good foundation to feeling competent.
P&C: Who were/are your mentors or heroes in the improv scene?
CC: Susan Messing – she uses all of her brain to be funny.
Heroes, in this order: Paul Scheer, Rob Huebel, Brian Huskey, Zack Woods, Jason Mantzoukas, TJ and Dave, John Lutz, Peter Grosz, Dan Backedahl, and Scott Adsit.
P&C: What’s the one thing you see being taught today – or not being taught – that irks you most?
CC: Anytime improv comedy forgets it is on stage, it irks me. Live theatre should be theatrical.
P&C: You say “Improvisers would rather be right than foolish.” How can improvisers get over that need to control?
CC: They have to be willing to fail. Unfortunately, we hold stage time and scenes so precious that we put too much pressure on ourselves.
Repetition is key. Let yourself be wrong. Scenes are a sine wave; they don’t have to start a specific way, they need only begin and invest in information and it will work.
P&C: You cover 4Track form in the book. How did it come about, how did you develop it?
CC: I was in a master class with Kevin Dorff. We hit on the idea of making scenes grow, [of] protecting energy.
I was also really into The Eventé, so I suggested we do a high energy-matching scene, followed by a character extraction to a series of tag-outs. It worked and evolved from there.
P&C: Many teams come and go, but a handful stay around long enough to become almost legendary. What makes a great team?
CC: Confidence, connectivity, trust, exposure to new things, agreeing to play a piece the same way!
Mick Napier is to improv as Keith Richards is to rock’n’roll. In Part Two, we discuss acting skills, Chicago versus New York and LA, how to start an improv theatre, and erector sets.
P&C: You’ve probably seen more improv than most people on the planet. Do you ever want to scream when you see a clichéd scene that you’ve seen a million times? How do you stay fresh and motivated [in] your attitude towards seeing improv?
MN: Well, that’s a great question; it’s very hard to do. There are an infinite number of things you can do in improvisation, but there seem to be the same patterns of behaviour that show up often. So it’s difficult.
I think I do mention this in my book. If the suggestion is “bowling alley,” then someone’s gonna put their hand in the air in order to hold a ball, or they’re gonna hold a hand dryer if they’re clever. Or if someone says “graveyard,” they’re gonna grab a shovel to dig, and it’s just these associations that we make.
So those become trying after a while, and difficult to pay attention to because it’s the same constructs.
And then behaviourally, people do reference time a lot, or people will say they love things a lot, or there’s all these different words that become [unintelligible]. So it becomes crazy, and it becomes very hard to stay focused often.
Sometimes I don’t really even listen to the words of a scene so much; I just kind of can hear the cadence of a scene to know what’s up, or to know the kind of behaviour that’s behind the cadence in a strange way. I don’t even know how to say that… But oftentimes I am not really listening to the content all the time.
If I have a feeling that it’s going to go in a particular way, I can assess from the very beginning of a scene pretty much what’s going to happen and I’ll kind of check in to the scene. And I feel horrible because I’m essentially admitting that I check out of a scene, but sometimes I do.
And then over time I feel like, that, I’ve just become really good at also just looking past the content and looking at human behaviour. So when I look at improvisation, especially when I’m teaching, I really am thinking about the person, and what can I bring to that person, and what are they doing?
So that’s the part that becomes stimulating to me; not whether the scene’s funny to me or whether the scene’s working, but y’know… “Sally just did that twice. Is she gonna do that again? She didn’t or she did. That becomes a pattern. Is that pattern an asset for improvisation, a deficit, or is it merely something she needs to find balance with? And how can I say that and asses that, and remember that.
And that’s the part that becomes stimulating when I’m teaching.
P&C: I was blown away when you came to Toronto and just nailed everybody’s style and their go-tos, and you did it so quickly. I understand that you have a lot of experience, but I also think you have a gift for that, because it seems like you enjoy that kind of analysis.
MN: I do, I really do. That is stimulating. And I really do like to see if I can empathise with the feeling and thinking of the person while they’re improvising.
I think if I have a gift, one of them is that I don’t forget ever what it’s like to improvise. Because I still improvise, and I still remember the same feeling I have when I improvise. I remember the same feeling I had the first time I saw the Mainstage at Second City. The first time I saw a Harold. The first I auditioned for the Generals or Tourco at Second City.
I’ve been running those auditions for twenty years, and I always, on the way to those auditions, stop and remember what it’s like to audition. Because it’s scary.
So I feel like that, if I do have any abilities, that’s one of them, is just to remember what it’s like and to always feel like I’m improvising and to see if I can get inside a person’s head. Because improvisation is scary as fuckin’ hell. It’s scary…so I get it.
P&C: You wrote a list of twelve tips for people auditioning for Second City in an Annoyance newsletter. One of the tips was “Study acting. You won’t, but you ought to.”
When David Razowsky was here recently he said that the last generation of improvisers was taught by actors, and this generation – to a large degree – is being taught by improvisers. Do you agree, and if so, how do you think that affects the quality of improv we’re seeing?
MN: Wow. I almost wish Jennifer would answer that question. She just said she agreed. I never thought of that, but boy, as I think about it I can agree. It becomes increasingly surprising to us that people don’t know stage left from stage right, or don’t, you know, know how to be on stage… I think that’s probably true.
I think of Dave Razowsky and me, I had theatre training, and it does come from an acting point of view. I don’t watch other people teach, but I do know who is teaching, and as I Rolodex who that is in the city right now, many of them just come from the improv community, and I can’t think of a lot of them like, 30s and under, that have had a lot of acting experience.
P&C: There’s some amazing talent [in Toronto] and obviously in the States, and I feel like actors bring more subtlety to their performance.
MN: I think that’s probably true; a little more substantive, a more grounded approach to their improvisation.
I say that, but I also think that right now, the younger talent pool at least in Chicago is… there’s some really good people. So I certainly don’t want to throw that away either, because I really do believe that the younger talent pool here is really impressive, and their ability to be good on stage and get laughs is really great.
P&C: Do you think people don’t take acting lessons because they’re afraid to?
MN: I think that that’s part of it. I’ve always seen a fear on both sides: from the theatre community, they’re afraid of improvisation, and I feel like improvisers are afraid of acting.
But I also think that a lot of young improvisers just feel like they don’t need…that it’s a given that they can act, or that it’s something they don’t really have to deal with. That they’re…“Of course I can act.” And I see that being a huge issue all the time.
Especially if you’re paid to do it. You’re not paid to do improvisation, you’re paid to probably do sketch comedy, or probably act in archival scenes at Second City, etcetera. So it is an acting job first.
I’ll see really good improvisers improvise at the Second City Generals, and they get called back. And in the callbacks, they’ll have to read from a script, and it’s pretty much the thing that will either get you hired or not get you hired. It’s the edge that you need to make that final step to get hired professionally.
P&C: In that same list, you stress the importance of doing things other than improv, and that you have a lot of hobbies. I know quibit, or rapping is one of them. What are some others?
MN: Oh my lord. Goodness… well, all my hobbies are… (laughs) Like, I do cards, I like to do a lot of card stuff. I played pool every night for like, fifteen years. I love pool, I studied pool a lot. I was into lock picking for a while. Weight lifting. Guitars…
P&C: Is it because you like learning new things?
MN: I do, yeah. I think the internet was a hobby of mine before you could click on anything. I was on the internet in 1988. That was all Unix. I knew Unix, and used to be on IRC and Gopher and all that.
The fun thing about me and the internet is that an old Annoyance actor is… I’d heard about the internet and heard he was on it, and I asked him how to get on it and he told me…his name was Dick Costolo, and he’s the CEO of Twitter now.
P&C: Oh wow. (laughs)
MN: Yeah. (laughs) I’m also into erector sets. Do you know what those are?
MN: I’ve have probably five thousand dollars’ worth of erector sets. And what’s funny for me is – I think this is telling for me in the world of process versus product thinking – is that I will spend four or five hours making something with an erector set, and just seconds after I finish it I will tear it apart.
MN: Yeah, I never care about the outcome of it. I think I’m like that a lot; I hate to go backwards and look at stuff. I’ve never read my book after it came out.
P&C: Go back and read it, it’s great!
MN: (laughs) I just kinda like do things and kinda move on. It’s probably called A.D.D.
P&C: It’s funny, because I listened to Jimmy Carrane’s Improv Nerd podcast interview with you, and he said you’re very good at being present. It sounds like you really enjoy this moment, and not so much the past or the future.
MN: Yeah, I try. I try. You know, I worry about stuff and all that, but yeah…
P&C: A lot of great improvisers move to New York or LA, while others stay in Chicago. Do you think there’s a certain type of person who flourishes more in one city, or is the type of career you choose?
MN: That’s a real good question. I feel like that, to move to New York… Well first of all if I had to advise anyone where to move, it would be New York. I think New York’s a better chance of actually getting paid to do it. And I actually think that New York’s a more exciting and more fun place and vibrant place to be, so I always tend to advise people that way.
I think that it takes a certain mentality to live in Los Angeles, and a certain amount of patience, a certain constitution… To be able to feel like that you’re always waiting, and that you always have something that’s a possibility for future success. I feel like that’s a huge part of the psyche of someone living in Los Angeles, so I think that you have to have the make-up for that.
I think that in Los Angeles you have a better chance you can get there quicker, so if they want to go to LA I’m always like, “Well you should go right now.” The more you wait in Chicago, the less marketable you’ll be in a weird way.
With New York I think they have more tolerance for that. So I think that if you’re someone who keeps the quality of life and their desire for that kind of adventure as high on their list as their career, then I think that’s a fuller person in a way.
Someone who stays in Chicago could be someone who is so immersed in the culture here and has such a love for it that they forgo other opportunities, like TJ Jagodowski. Or it could be someone who is probably in fear of making that leap, like Jimmy Carrane, self-admittedly. Or it could be someone who has tried it and then comes back to Chicago. And it could be a mixture of all those things, which I think is me.
I was in New York for three years and loved it, and wanted to get back to the Annoyance in Chicago. So for me there’s times where I’ve regretted not fully moving to New York. Because Jennifer was there for seven years and worked there as an actor and did well, and there’s part of me that’s like, “Oh fuck, I wish I would’ve done New York and, you know, had that life there.”
I’ve never wanted to go to Los Angeles. I worked in television for a bit and I feel like that I’m…I guess almost like, too angry to work in television.
I can’t have that conversation with twenty producers that I don’t respect, who are constantly providing input that I have to negotiate and compromise and through attrition agree to or subscribe to, and acquiesce power and all that. I’ve done it and it’s just enraging.
I admire people who can do it, I really do, and come out with a good product on the other side. But then I think about that, and usually that’s in New York.
I respect Tina for being to get through all I know she had to do to in order to get 30 Rock the way it was. And I respect Stephen Colbert, and people I’ve known through the years who’ve made that leap. It just takes so much energy, and I respect it so much.
And the people, the mediocrity you have to meet along the way, and the product-oriented people coming at you all the time. It takes a lot of energy.
I worked on Exit 57 and I learned a lot about the quality of life one must endure to be in television, and I was so angry all the time at having to deal with everything you have to deal with, that I think that became a decision for me to never, ever immerse myself in the culture of Los Angeles where that would be pretty much the constant. And add to that the waiting, and the feeling like my next phone call was gonna be something… and it was just, oh my God…
So to answer your question, I think it takes that kind of constitution, or that kind of demeanour in order to live there without absolutely going out of your fucking mind.
P&C: Whenever I see the part in Annie Hall where Woody visits LA and he watches the guy put the laugh track on, that’s pretty much my concept of what it must be like to work in TV. I work in advertising, which is not even art, and the compromises are often nauseating. Doing a TV show, I can only imagine how many fingers are in that pie.
MN: I’m sure. And I’m sure you’ve seen in advertising some very funny, original concepts just be homogenized to lukewarm mediocrity.
I’ve read The Art of Chicago Improv, and it became really clear that it’s a very tough thing to do, to open a theatre. What advice would you give to someone who wanted to start an improv theatre today.
MN: It’s boring advice, but to go to the trouble of finding out all the logistical things you need to do in order to run a theatre legally and safely. I know that is such a 50-year-old person’s answer, but what I learned is that I’ve done it many different ways, and I’ve found that it takes a lot less energy to do it legally and right than it does to skate around. And it’s also less expensive to do it correctly than to not.
The reason I say that, first, is that when you’re starting out you feel like you want to skate around this. You don’t want to really have to get a fucking permit and do all this other shit. And what I’ve learned over time is that it takes so much more energy and so much more secrecy and so much more money to do it that way.
So I guess my first piece of advice would be – as boring as it is – go to the trouble of and have the courage to just do it the way you want to do it, and that will give you more creative freedom later, because you don’t have to be hiding behind shit.
Now that is the first thing that comes to me while I’m in the process, just this morning, of looking at a space to try to move the Annoyance. So I’m in that mindset for sure.
We’re really close to moving, and so I’m kind of in that mind space right now, and just reflecting on the way that I’ve created theatres in Chicago, and really wish I would’ve taken the energy to do it a little differently when I was younger. But that’s on the business stuff and boring side.
On the artistic side of things, I think that having a real clear idea of the voice you want to create with your theatre, and completely being relentless about the fervor that you want to bring to that voice, and not letting the way you think it should be, or the way you think it should be perceived, be the thing that guides you.
You’ll lose artistic ground and respect if you’re attempting to acquiesce to other people’s opinions and thoughts, etcetera.
That’s one thing I’m hugely proud of with Annoyance. If you’re really going to go to the trouble to get a theatre together, you might as well at least own what your point of view is and what your vision is.
P&C: And that’s going to dovetail me nicely into my final question, which is: you are a legendary figure in the improv community. What are you most proud of in your career?
MN: As far as improv goes, I’m most proud of creating the Annoyance Training Centre. That’s the thing that if when people ask me right now “What are you most proud of at the Annoyance?” it’s the Training Centre.
I’m proud of creating an alternative way, a different way of looking at improvisation, a different way of learning it, and I’m proud of creating the Annoyance’s training that reflects that.
I really am proud of a lot of shows I’ve directed and stuff, but when it comes down to it, when people ask me that, that’s my first answer and I think it’s the most honest answer.
The shows have happened at the Annoyance, some of them have been great, some of them have just sucked. And I’m proud of the fact that allowing them to create whatever they want on stage, I really am, and above and beyond that, I’m just really proud of the training.
We have the courage to give people individual notes, and individual assessments, and keep it playful, keep it uncensored and all that.
P&C: Wonderful. Well thank you so, so much for your time. Please thank Jennifer for letting me take you away from her for an hour. Truly a pleasure to talk with you Mick.
MN: Thank you so much. Tell everyone hello.
Mick Napier would probably say “fuck it” to a formal introduction, but here goes anyway… He’s an actor, teacher, author, founder and Artistic Director of the Annoyance Theatre, and Artistic Consultant to The Second City. He has directed Tina Fey, Stephen Colbert, David Sedaris, and just about anyone else you think is cool.
P&C: You’ve said that you don’t watch a lot of comedy; you’ve never seen Seinfeld or Friends. Do you think that gives you a more unique perspective on what’s funny?
MN: I think it can. That’s not the reason I don’t really watch those things but I do feel like it gives me a feeling of not being affected by all those, or influenced by them, in a good way.
But it also provides a deficit when I’m working. Like if I’m directing at Second City, I kinda feel out of it sometimes. I rely on my cast to tell me if something’s been done, or we’re visiting a comedic premise that’s been visited before.
So I think it’s kind of a fun thing, but it’s also been a bad thing for me, too. It makes people think that I’m indifferent to comedy.
It’s interesting you’re asking me that right now, because I made a concerted effort to express that less to people lately because I think it leaves people with a feeling that’s like, “Oh God, he doesn’t even like comedy…”
MN: I do! I do like comedy. It’s just that sometimes it becomes a little bit of a work…a job for me.
With media or like with television and stuff, if I’m presented a comedy versus, you know, a Law & Order or something, I’m gonna probably go for the drama. But it’s also that way with me and fiction. I don’t read fiction that much, so if I can read The Scarlet Letter or how a refrigerator works, I’m going to read how a refrigerator works.
When you started doing improv, you didn’t actually have any improv training per se; you just sort of jumped into it, is that right?
MN: Yeah, I was in college and I was in theatre, and I think I grew a little weary of rehearsing the same thing over and over, and at that time happened upon a book by Jeff Sweet, Something Wonderful Right Away, and I really was enthralled by the idea of just making it up.
So I got together with my friend Dave MacNerland and we formed a group in college and I had never seen it, nor had I ever done it. But I put an audition notice up for a group, and we auditioned people and we started improvising. Mostly sketches and short form stuff, games.
We were actually writing a new sketch show every week or two, and then we would throw improv games in the middle of those.
For college it was crazy, because we spent an incredible amount of time – three or four nights a week – working on stuff or rehearsing stuff. So it was a new, I’d say hour-long sketch show every week, with some games in there.
P&C: Wow, that’s a lot of work.
MN: It was. I look back on that now, and look at the two-month rehearsal process for the Second City Mainstage to get that much time, and it’s crazy.
I think when you don’t know something you just kinda do it and say “Fuck it.” And I think you don’t know that you’re not supposed to really know that, or not know that.
We had a nice following. It was called Dubbletaque, and we were in a couple of different bars in college.
P&C: From there, you were on an iO team called Grime and Punishment.
MN: Yeah, I was in college until ’86 and then moved to Chicago, and almost immediately started at iO and started at Second City all at the same time.
Back then there were only about, maybe five or six iO teams. And there was the Second City training program, which had just created its official Conservatory back then.
I started improvising about the same time as a guy named Dave Pasq – or not Dave Pasquesi, he was improvising before me – but Dave Razowsky. And we were on the same team. That was with Rich Laible, and also Tim Meadows was on that team. That was a really good group of people. Timmy and I started improvising about the same week in Chicago.
P&C: Can you describe the improv scene in Chicago at that time? Obviously it was a much smaller community.
MN: I think long form was really starting, and that was only about five or six years old when I got to Chicago. It was a lot smaller; at the time though of course I thought it was huge because I’m from Indiana, and Second City’s training program was big enough that I certainly felt the competition, so I never really thought it was small at the time. But now looking back on it, I do.
Like, Second City when I was there, it took a little less than a year to get through their entire program. And now they have A through E, and then they have One through Six, and then iO has six levels, and then the Annoyance has five levels. So I think it takes a lot longer for people to get through the improv experience now.
Does Toronto’s Second City have two years, do they have A through E? I don’t even know.
P&C: They have A through E, and then you can audition for Conservatory, and I believe they now have a long form program that is separate that is probably five levels, and a musical Conservatory.
P&C: You can spend your life taking classes. (laughs)
MN: Ain’t that the truth. It’s a lot different that way. I think also with Second City, [there’s] the different programs they’ve set up internally, like their BenchCo, their Twisty here which is like a house team at Second City, and then the ships that you can go on, and then Touring Company and e.t.c. and Mainstage…
When I started, the average age of a Mainstage actor at Second City’s Mainstage was probably 26-7, now it’s about 31.
So all of those things, all the training, and the ships, and all those experiences have actually created an older Mainstage actor.
Which has become a bit weird for them when they leave, because sometimes when they’re ready to go to Los Angeles, they’ve aged themselves out of a market in a weird way. And that’s become an issue on the long term for those actors.
I also feel like that, in Chicago anyway, there’s a feeling that you want to go through at least the Annoyance, iO’s experience and Second City’s experience; that that makes a fuller, kind of more well-rounded actor/improviser. And I believe that’s reinforced by the culture here…that all of your peers are doing that.
People are jumping from one place to another. And in Chicago in the last few years you add to that pH, and Playground, and ComedySportz, and Upstairs Gallery, and literally there’s people that would do three shows in three different places here. They’ll do a show at the Annoyance at 8, and go to iO and do a 10 o’clock show and then go Upstairs Gallery and do one at midnight. It’s crazy.
I also think adding to that, the feeling of being on a team in a weird way here in Chicago – I think a little of this happens in Toronto, too – is that sometimes people feel as if once they’re on a team, that that’s good enough for now, and they kind of become complacent.
I’ve seen this a lot in Chicago, where it feels so right and reinforced to be on just a team and to be part of something, that it’s easy to then feel satisfied to put your career aside in a weird way.
To ironically not even work on your own career. It feels like it’s where you should be at the time, and suddenly six years have gone by. And you’re on a team, and you have done little to really, sort of selfishly pursue your own interests and career. Does that make sense?
MN: I’ve just noticed that happen more and more. And I think with more training and more performance opportunities, ironically it can work against someone that way.
P&C: A lot of people fall in love with improv and it becomes almost an addiction. You want more, so you take more workshops and classes, but at a certain point it becomes a law of diminishing returns.
You talk about that in your book Improvise. I think on page 5 you say that by the time someone has spent about two grand on improv classes, they’re probably fully in their head. And I went “Oh my God, that’s me!”
MN: (laughs) Well that came from my own experience; that was me, too. I spent all that time and money and I thought, “Why am I rendered immobile?”
P&C: Now you’re working on a new book…
MN: [Jennifer Estlin]’s my girlfriend; [she] runs the Annoyance. Jennifer edited Improvise and she’s edited…we put together about 50 pages. We just started to send it out about two weeks ago. It’s not directly marketed for business, but certainly much more.
Heinemann, who published Improvise, they’ve been great; they’re more of an education-based publisher, and I’m wanting to go a little higher and a little more widespread and commercial. So we’ve learned that I need to get an agent really, to approach those kind of publishers, so that’s what we’re doing right now is fishing for an agent.
The book itself is just about innovation and all the different things that people, when they get together and create something…that’s entailed in that. It’s everything from how to conduct a meeting, to how to present, to how to pitch something, to the psychology that goes behind creating something, to the inner demons that you have when you start to create something.
And I attempt a few times to recreate scenarios of like, how one is thinking when they’re approaching a podium if they’re gonna speak, and how terrified they are.
Or the feeling of the room in a meeting when you have that one asshole in the back with his arms crossed, and looking at you, and what he’s thinking, and why he wants to get attention. And how it doesn’t matter what your idea is, how he’s gonna be negative, and all of that. Hopefully stuff that people can relate to.
And then there’s a chapter about how to drink – which is very funny and timely for me – I have a chapter about how to drink coffee…
MN: …how to not spill coffee on yourself, because I’m always doing that. And this morning I was walking and drinking coffee and spilled it on my shirt and thought about my own advice. I have a whole chapter on drinking coffee. (laughs)
P&C: Going back in my notes… You’ve said that you find agreement in improv a weak concept. Can you expand on that, since the whole principal of improv seems to be built around agreement?
MN: Well, I think that agreement has been overblown and overrated in a weird way. I certainly don’t disagree with the idea of immediately agreeing to the circumstances or reality of a space presented to you in an improv scene.
If you ask for a hammer, then I can be at a hardware store and that’s all good. I believe that it’s an extra stretch… Like, if you were to ask for a hammer and for me to say “I’m on Venus right now,” it’s a lot of baggage to bring those two worlds together.
So I definitely adhere to the notion of agreeing with the circumstances of an improv scene or circumstances of a relationship, or that label.
I believe the weakness that I refer to comes from how hyped “Yes and…” is and has become. And I don’t believe that that’s the root of good improvisation or the root of good comedy even. And it left me powerless, to have someone throw an initiation out there and for me to literally, or sometimes comparatively, form the words “Yes, I agree with that, and let me add to that.”
“Yes, I like ice cream, and strawberry’s my favourite.”
And it left me just weak, and I didn’t feel like I had any edge on what I was saying. I didn’t feel like I had any underlying irony, or sometimes I say like, a hateful nature about it, or a wicked way of looking at it, or an ironic way…so I had a hard time with that in and of itself, being such a tentative improvisation, and it leaving me feeling so weak.
And just coming to realize over time that many people would disagree, or characters would disagree with me in an improv scene, or I would do the same, and there was great strength in that. Or other times people would aggressively, and there could be great strength in that.
But the weaker people that I noticed in improvisation were those that were merely relying on, without much behind it, saying “Yes” and agreeing with things, and then adding a little something to it in the content.
So I felt like there was a lot more to improvisation than that. And I felt like the teaching of that, and the priority that people placed on that, was actually tending toward being a deficit to their improvisation, and a deficit to the power they brought to it, as opposed to an asset.
It’s easy enough to teach in about thirty minutes, general agreement to the circumstances of a scene. But to really put a banner behind “Yes, and…” and have people literally agree with everything and add to it in that way, I feel like there’s a lot of different tactics to improvisation that give people a lot more power.
While that very basic idea of agreement still lives there, I think that once those circumstances are agreed to, a whole other bevy of things can occur.
P&C: Annoyance, iO, UCB, and Second City all have their own distinctive styles. iO started in ’81, Annoyance started in ’87 as Metraform, and UCB started in 1990, and Second City way before that.
When people from Toronto go to Chicago or New York and take workshops, you can see their style change and be informed and more dynamic in certain ways, based on where they trained.
Do you think there’s still room for new approaches, and if so, why do you think there hasn’t been any for so long?
MN: That’s a really good question. I’ve given absolutely no thought to that.
MN: I can think about it and talk at the same time…
I feel like some of that might be that, although there’s different styles, like with iO and UCB, I believe they’re still under the umbrella of long form. I believe that long form and its cultures have become so encompassing that I think that the styles are found within that, but that people don’t feel like they’re gonna create a whole other school of thought that exceeds what is out there now. I’m kinda talking out my ass…
MN: (laughs) I am. I also feel…it’s kinda like, Second City is sketch comedy. There’s so many things you can do with it, but it’s always gonna be unrelated scenes, monologues and songs.
And I feel like improvisation is the same in a way, because it’s always going to be someone on a raised platform saying words they didn’t know they were gonna say, and making them up. And you can do that in many different ways, and the only thing that’s really changed by definition is the length of time, in my opinion: long form versus games or short form.
If you expand to like, Comedy Sports or Theatre Sports, that’s a slightly different way of playing games. UCB is a slightly different way of looking at the Harold. I think the Annoyance took improvisation and created more narrative works, more musicals, more full-length plays written through improvisation. And that kind of extends from Second City’s way of creating sketch through improvisation.
So I don’t know the answer to the question, but I feel like there’s all these derivative methods of using the tool that is constant, which is making up things on a stage. And I feel like that sometimes has its limits, which is kind of an age-old argument about whether or not improvisation is actually worthy in and of itself to be a product placed in front of people to pay money for.
Even twenty-some years ago I kept hearing the conversation, “Will there ever be an improvised television show?” or “Can you take improvisation to movies or TV?” And I feel like people have done that, but it still has its hit rate that you have to accommodate commercially. Or not. But I think that that becomes relevant.
Because even among the very best improvisers I’ve ever worked with, the very best have a 75% hit rate. Three out of four scenes are gonna be great and one’s not.
And you have to ask, “Is that commercially viable?”
In Part Two, Mick talks about working in TV, acting skills and auditioning, how not to run an improv theatre, and pool.