A simple blog

My New Process

This year I will be in the Victoria Fringe with my solo improv show, Photo Booth. It’s a simple enough concept, I improvise four characters based on faces/poses made by the audience… There’s also some cool flashing light and freezing effects to give the show a photo booth feel. I know, perfect in it’s simplicity. It’s less crass then last year’s Dave Morris is an Asshole. In that show, I asked for the worst things people have done and wove them together into one story about an asshole (which could have been anyone really). Both shows are fun in their own way.

These two shows, though very different in concept, have one thing in common. Neither started from a place of improv or form, both shows began as concepts and from their concept a show was form-ed. This is a little different then most improvisation you’ll see. Most improv is presenting forms/games/structures, with specific people doing them. A group learns The Harold or a Tap-Out or make up some game called somegame and that becomes what there group does. They are defined by the form (or free form) they do, and not the reason, or concept, behind doing it.

But why do improvisers do this?

It’s quite simple really: Improvisation is not a product. It’s not a thing to sell to someone. Telling someone to see improv is like telling them to go see “movie” or telling someone they should really check out “book.” Improv isn’t a product, it’s a process. It is a way of doing something. So most groups end up treating the form they do as a product, and up until recently, I’ve always treated myself as the product. “Come see Dave Morris improvise.” It’s not an improv show, it’s a Dave Morris show. Which is why my shows were always called Dave Morris is a BLANK. Well, not anymore. Now the concept is my product. Thus this years title “Photo Booth.”

Having a concept instead of just a form or person as a product opens the show up to a larger audience. Take Photo Booth for instance. It isn’t just a show for people who like improv or Dave Morris, it’s also for people who love Photo Booths. For people who love capturing a once in a lifetime moment with friends. People who are sad to see shopping malls adopt the digital photo booth and toss out the old fashioned film booths. This show is for people who love the you-only-get-one-shot mentality that is the magic of not only Photo Booths, but improvisation itself.

This post also appeared on CBC’s website.

§204 · August 25, 2011 · Improv · (No comments) · Tags: , , ,

Empathy

I believe there is a correlation between good improvisers and empathetic people. I have little evidence, but I have a theory. Here goes.

Empathy, the ability to recognize and share feelings that someone else is experiencing, is in and of itself, connecting. It’s the ability to connect to another human being on an emotional level. To feel compassion. It’s what makes you cry at the movies, or while reading your favorite chapter of your favorite book. It’s the reason we have soft shoulders to cry on, why we like playing video games, and why we enjoy watching two happy people in love kiss.

Improvisation also happens to be, all about connecting. Connecting to your fellow players, to the audience, and to your character(s).

You need to connect to how your partner is feeling (as an improviser). Are they comfortable with this scene, with this suggestion? If not, how can you help them ( that Johnstonian thinking of “Take care of your partner”).  And you need to constantly be checking in with your audience, how are they feeling? Are they enjoying this scene, if not, how can you make it more enjoyable for them? (If one of them left the building how would the show change?) And the last thing of course, how is your character feeling? And what would their reaction be to the situation?

You shouldn’t have to think to answer any of these questions, you should just “feel” it. You should know instinctively what to do. Of course, It is possible to do all this in your head, and think your way through it, but then their is always an extra step between your partners offer and your reaction. We shouldn’t have to think “How is my character feeling” we should already know, we should already be empathizing with that character and sharing their feelings, so when your partner gives you an offer, the emotional reaction is already there.

The same goes with the audience. We shouldn’t have to think about if they are enjoying it, we should be so emotionally tied to them that we can feel if this scene is enjoyable or not.

Empathetic people think less and feel more, and I would say, that being a good improviser is all about thinking less, and feeling more. I guess the question is, can you learn to be empathetic? I think you can… I’m a glass half full kind of guy.

 ¶ 

§180 · July 27, 2011 · Improv · 3 comments · Tags: ,

In the style of

Last night was the opening night of Paper Street Theatre’s “An Improvised Tennessee Williams.” It was great. Our goal was to create something that felt and tasted like the work of Williams and we did. We had the southern drawl, the grey un-moral characters, the overly poetic language and the rich metaphor and symbolism Tennessee loved so much. I’m very very proud of our cast.

We didn’t just try to recreate Williams though, we also aimed to recreate theatre in general. That was just as difficult to learn, or should I say, it was easy to learn but hard to actually do. When performing improv that looks like theatre, everything has to seem directed, all of your actions have to look rehearsed, there needs to be silence and stillness, props can’t disappear and reappear during scene changes, the fourth wall can’t have any set pieces on it (or you’ll block the actors), not to mentoin that sets are expensive, so you don’t have the luxury of changing locations. All of this, in conjunction with Williams’ very specific style, made last nights show look like a written play.

Here’s what I find most interesting about that. Since it looked and felt like a play, certain attributes of improvisation stood out a little more then they normally do in your standard improv comedy show. For instance, none of the offers last night were blocked, but if one wasn’t perfectly accepted it felt like a block. No one broke character on stage, but even the slightest smile looked like a full breakdown. The story made sense, but the simplest moment of confusion made it feel like the whole story was falling apart.

Why? Is it because we are bad improvisers? Not at all.

Then why? It’s because the audience was buying into the theatre of it. So much so, that after the show some of them asked us how much of it was written, and even after we explained that none of it was, they still left thinking it was written. And so, because they believed it was theatre, when something seemed a little off, or unaccepted, the question wasn’t “why did they make that up?” it was “why would someone have written that and let it get past the second draft?” See the difference?

If you’re not making it up on the spot, the audience’s tolerance of little mistakes goes down. The same goes for if you’re making it look like you’re not making it up on the spot. You need to be aware of that lower tolerance when attempting a theatrically improvised piece. You need to make sure every offer counts and every scene matters, because if it isn’t important to the script, it would have been cut out of play during the editing process.

That said, I think what we did last night was excellent, and a step in the right direction. Bringing improvisation back to a place of theatre. A place where you get more then a laugh, you get a story, perhaps some sadness, and at the very least, a night of entertainment. We have one more show tonight, and I’m looking forward to it more then any other improv show I’ve done this year. Maybe I’ll see you there.

 ¶ 

§150 · June 30, 2011 · Improv · 3 comments · Tags: , , ,

Post Seattle Post

Last week I was at The 2011 Seattle International Festival of Improvisation hosted by Unexpected Productions. Overall the festival was an incredible experience, as is any week surrounded by improvisers from around the world, but last week was extra special. We studied, and discovered in ourselves, the Fool.

The Fool is an archetype found in almost every culture, and like all archetypes if you meet him in his pure form he will destroy you, so we looked at the fool through ourselves as improvisers. The result was amazing. The Fool is the only one who can tell the king the truth and not get beheaded. The Fool has no agenda, but instead tells the truth to whoever needs to hear it. The Fool is not full of folly but of a wisdom so great that only the unwise will call it folly. We discovered that improvisers can and should be today’s Fools. We didn’t just focus on playing the Fool on stage, but on how to fill ourselves with the energy of the Fool, and how to simply recognize when the Fool is in the room.

I know. It was pretty deep. I’ll get into this in more detail in the coming weeks I’m sure.

The festival is an ensemble festival, so the focus wasn’t performing, but learning. It was made up of the most passionate and inspired improvisers from around the world; 8 countries were represented. We improvised in English mostly, but there was German and Spanish being spoken, as well as Japanese and even Slovenian. A truly international ensemble, and I was proud to be representing Canada among such amazing improvisers. It’s trips like these that make me not only want to be better myself, but to help others get better as well, so I can be surrounded by such awesomeness all the time.

Of all of the people at the festival, working with Randy Dixon, the artistic director of Unexpected Productions, was the biggest honour. As far as improvises and teachers go, he’s top notch. I learn more working with Randy for two days then working on my own for two years. I learn more from the one liners he delivers out of the side of his mouth as a joke, then I do in an entire workshop with any other instructor. He truly is an improviser’s improviser, and an instructor’s instructor. If you get the chance to work with Randy, take it.

Anyway, I took home many life-long lessons from the festival. I’m sure most of them will make their way onto this blog in one way or another, so I won’t get into details now or I’ll have nothing to write about later. But the most important concept I took home with me, was the notion of making improvisation relevant again. The beauty of improvised theatre is that you can see something on the news that morning and put it on stage that night. Almost every long running improv company began creating theatre that address the issues of their time, they weren’t just acting like idiots and making people laugh. Improv is losing touch with its roots. It’s rarely considered political or satirical nowadays. It’s become a joke. So, I have a new goal in improv. To try and make it relevant again. To try and make it worth more then a couple of laughs. To re-introduce improvisation to the fool it once knew.

 ¶ 

§145 · June 25, 2011 · Improv, Reviews · 2 comments · Tags: , , ,

Leaving for Seattle

I am leaving (literally at the terminal) for the Seattle improv festival. Colour me pink… and by pink I mean excited. Because of all the festivals I’ve been to in the past, including Berlin, Seattle’s stands out.

In the past, it’s always had a perfect balance between learning, performing, and relaxing. The guest instructors have been well informed in their field, and working with Randy Dixon (Unexpected Productions Artistic Director) is always a pleasure. The festival isn’t just a week of improvisation, it’s a week ripe with innovation and experimentation. Lately I’ve been in need of a little of all of that.

I probably won’t be posting for a few days, but I’ll let you know how it goes.

§143 · June 12, 2011 · Announcement, Improv · (No comments) · Tags: ,

5 Reasons Improvisers are Better People

Improvisers are better then normal people because:

1. They are accepting. They can accept people for who they are without trying to change them. They can accept situations for what they are instead of wishing they were different. And above all, they can accept themselves and so they are comfortable with who they are. They don’t judge people or ideas, they just say yes. How pleasant.

2. They listen. They have to, It’s a part of who they are. They pay attention to people when they are talking, and not just to wait for a moment to interrupt with their own thoughts, but to interject with a clever reincorporation of something the speaker had already said, or add something new to their idea. by finding patterns and themes in the topics of discussion, they make every conversation worthwhile.

3. They are storytellers. So when they aren’t listening but speaking, they tell the most fabulous stories. Not just because they know how to tell stories, but because they live lives of saying yes they end up on grand adventures and have great stories to tell.

4. They like working together. Improvisers are collaborators. They aren’t focused on themselves but instead the group they are with. This makes them a pleasure to be around in social settings because they act like the glue holding everyone together. They don’t leave people out.

5. The most obvious answer Improvisers like to play and have fun. So being with them is a constant joy, and they have a way of bringing out the child-like-game-playing-side in everyone. They turn everyday into something fun to be a part of. They make you want to be a more fun-loving, and accepting person.

NOTE: This post is about true improvisers, not just people who improvise. I have explained the difference before.

 ¶ 

§128 · June 6, 2011 · Improv · 1 comment · Tags: , ,

There is no I in [new term]

In Los Angeles and Chicago, and anywhere else there is an IO or an IO inspired improv theatre, there is a term for a group of improvisers who play the Harold together. The term is: A Harold Team. I bring this up because I’ve always wanted to know why we call them “teams?” Why not Harold Groups, or Harold Companies? Is it a left over convention from a time when IO was actually called The Improv Olympic? Or is just that the collective noun for improviser is team. “Oh look, that murder of crows passed by that flock of geese and is heading for that team of improvisers.”

I don’t know why it’s the term, but I do know, I’m not really a fan of it. It always makes me think of competing. I understand the term being used for Theatresports™, or The Canadian Improv Games where the format is competitive, but when the concept is collaborative or simply just for performance purposes, it doesn’t really work for me. Now I am aware that the word “team” is completely valid to be used out of a competitive context as far as definitions go, so it’s not that it’s incorrect, I just think there are so many better words. Such as:

  • Company
  • Group
  • Gang
  • Posse
  • Troupe (It’s a little cheesy, but come on, so is team.)
  • Squadron (Awesome)
  • Crew
  • Brigade (also Awesome!)
  • etc… etc…

So, what would you choose to call your collection of players who perform a Harold? If you say team, I think you’re either used to it or your imagination is having some trouble. If you look at it objectively, I think team is near the bottom of the list. At the top is probably Brigade, because let’s face it, that sounds bad ass, and improvisers love being thought of as bad ass.

 ¶ 

§81 · June 3, 2011 · Improv · 4 comments · Tags: , , , ,

In the Presence of Greatness

There is a certain something that makes a great improviser.

The best way I can describe it is a sense of always being present. And I mean always! Not only when in a scene, or just off to the side, but from the moment the audience enters the house, great improvisers are present and aware. You know what I mean? They’re listening to every little thing that’s being said, watching everything that’s happening. They remember the jokes the host made as part of the intro to the show. They know what’s going on outside of the show! They know what’s on the news, what’s happening in the community; they know their audience. Why? Because great improvisers understand that in a world made of pure improvisation, where everything is in the act of becoming, where moments are constantly on the cusp of being, you never know what trivial thing in the beginning could later prove to be the perfect ending. Great improvisers take in everything, hold it tight to their brains, and wait for the ideal moment to let it.

I’ve been thinking about this idea a lot lately. When SpeakEasy (Missie Peters and I) were at the Berlin Improv Festival, every improviser fit that description. All of them would listen and be so present that they wouldn’t only accept the offer you made, they’d accept the offer you didn’t realize you made. Of course they would, considering it was an international festival and most people traveled for days to just to be there, but still it gave me a taste of working with only great improvisers. It was amazing. No one was there just for “fun,” I mean we were having fun, we were enjoying ourselves, but first and foremost we were there for the work. To share moments on stage with people. To improvise, not just entertain.

A lot of improvisers consider a show a “win” if the audience has a good time. I won’t disagree, it is a win, but I don’t think it’s the only way to win, nor do I believe making the audience have a good time is all we’re trying to accomplish. Are we simply performers and entertainers, or are we artists who care about our craft? The former, or performance based improvisers, will be happy with a lot of laughs and attention while they work toward other goals in their life. The latter, what I would just call improvisers, will also be happy with an entertained audience but know that there is so much more to what we are doing and will work toward achieving goals within improvisation itself.

What should you be working towards? That’s up to you. I would say you should be as great as you can be at what you are doing. Impressing or entertaining an audience isn’t the end of improvising, it’s the beginning. We should act as artisans, craftsmen, passionate about our work and constantly improving ourselves, taking aim at greatness. Great improvisers are always in the moment, always aware, always in tune with everyone in the room, always watching, always listening, always prepared to do what is necessary, never just watching, always interpreting, always reacting, and of course, they are always, always present.

 ¶ 

§77 · June 1, 2011 · Improv · 6 comments · Tags: , ,

Like a bridge

Approximately 16 weeks after conception, even before they have ears, an unborn baby develops their sense of hearing. Some of what it hears is white noise, sounds muffled through flesh and bodily fluids, but mostly it just hears a heartbeat and it’s mother’s blood sending much needed nutrients and oxygen through hardworking veins. Forget about what they hear, the fact is that 20 weeks before they’re born, 5 months before they are people, fetuses are listening.

You would assume sight is your most important sense, and for most everyday activities it probably is, but sound is much more vital to our survival (the caveman could hear the sabertooth tiger in the bushes before he could see him). We can hear at 360 degrees spherical (that’s every direction). Sight is only usable 180 degree at a time. We can close our eyes but our ears are always open. We hear all the time, we may filter it out, ignore it, forget about it instantly, but sound is always coming into our ears, and therefore, our brains.

hear (hîr)
v. heard (hûrd), hear·ing, hears
1. To perceive (sound) by the ear
lis·ten (lsn)
intr.v. lis·tened, lis·ten·ing, lis·tens
1. To make an effort to hear something.
Definitions from The free dictionary

We hear everything, but we listen selectively. Improvisers train ourselves to listen to everything (or should) because we understand how important it is. How every subtle intonation, every emphasis of every syllable changes the meaning of every sentence (and therefore every scene). We put the effort in to understand what was said. If all I do is hear you, I miss the most important part of what you’re saying… I miss what you actually mean.

Because there is something that comes along with listening, with putting in that effort: interpretation. Soaking in the meaning of the words. Every word in the english language has multiple meanings, and when you listen you can tell the difference. If I interpret your meaning, when I respond, I’m responding to what you said and not just the words you used. It’s the difference between a good improviser and a great improviser.

Words will always come between improvisers on stage. They’ll come between people at jobs, and even lovers in beds. So put the effort in to really listen, and let the words come between you like a bridge, not a wall. Like a bridge.

§55 · May 26, 2011 · Improv · (No comments) · Tags: ,

The Paper Street Theatre co.

It’s official, I have a new improv company: the Paper Street Theatre co. We have a website and our first show, An Improvised Tennessee Williams, is booked for June 29th and 30th.

I am very excited. Let me tell you why.

Firstly, it’s nice to have a company with a theme and mandate again. It’s been a long time. Lately all I’ve been producing is Theatresports (or TheatresHorts as we call it), who’s mandate is to be inclusive to all improvisers, and help individuals performers grow. Which is great, but in the artistic vision department, it’s kind of blind. With Paper Street, it’s quite the opposite. My vision is there right from the start: To create improvisation that feels like theatre. I’m not going to debate whether it is better or worse then the having-fun-showing-the-seems improv, it’s just the goal of this company, so that everyone knows what we’re aiming for right from the get go.

Secondly, we’ve booked a show, and it’s a two night run. Which I think is an important part of the concept. Performing a run of a show adds an element of theatre. As oppose to a one off performance, which is more improv-like. A run give you the opportunity to give notes after the performance, and then put them to use the next night instead of just forgetting them because you’re never going to revisit that show again. I hope in the future to book a full season of shows at the beginning of the year.

Thirdly, and most importantly of all, it’s nice to be challenging myself again. Sometimes I get complacent, I start doing what I’m good at, and sticking with the same styles and games. Tennessee Williams is a little safe I guess (as I worked on it in Berlin with Randy Dixon), but it’s still one step up from what I’m used to, and it’s something I’ve never had to teach before. The next show we’ll be starting from scratch. Which means having to research the style (or author) of choice and find the elements on our own. Challenging and educational. A perfect mix. I’m not sure what styles next for Paper Street, but it will be something awesome. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.

For now, take a look at the site, I’d love to hear your feedback on that too.

 

§50 · May 22, 2011 · Announcement, Improv · 1 comment · Tags: , ,

← Older entries
Newer entries →