Tag Archives: Improv

OOB Recaps

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Okay, so I didn’t get out every night of Out of Bounds. I went out Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Sunday and Monday I reclaimed for love. I found myself in the super rare occasion in which my husband was actually home and free when I was home and free so we maximized the rarity by adventuring, galavanting, toasting, napping, cooking and entertaining. Together. I soaked that shit UP.

Out of Bounds Todd Stashwick Stool Pigeon

So I paid for and missed a couple of the big headliners, womp womp. When it all comes down to it, the best shows I saw weren’t the ones in big bold letters anyway. They made it worth the pass. They were the smaller troupes, the local troupes and the (amazing) Jill Bernard. Her one-woman show was so inventive and smart and well done that at the end I had to remind myself that she made the entire thing up on the spot. She SANG the whole thing. She was so physical and so BIG for someone so small. I love her!

Parallelogramaphonograph pulled off a homecoming show that was so touching and heartfelt it made me cry. It was really REAL. The art those four continue to pull together just keeps getting more and more amazing. I’m so proud Austin can claim them.

I saw Buddy Daddy, which means I got the pleasure of seeing Arthur Simone improvise with his dog. HIS DOG, Y’ALL.

And Billy Icon, whom I’ve seen only once before, pulled off another fantastic, wholly physical performance. Those two were in each other’s faces, picking each other up and climbing in the rafters. They’re headliner material. I wish there were more people in the audience to see it, because it was GRAND and probably one of the top five shows in the ranks of “funny” that I saw. I can’t wait to see them in a year from now.

I could write on and on about what I learned last weekend from what I loved to watch and what made me go, “Meh.” I learned I’m not a big fan of organic transition edits. (I learned, just now, that I don’t even know if that’s what to call it.) But most of what I’m bringing away from my first ever comedy festival is less tangible than show reviews and (missed) workshops. I got to witness, firsthand, the truly limitless capacity of the Austin improv community.

OOB is dead! Long live OOB!

Your Vertigo Shtick

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It’s really lame to post a pre-post post, when I should just post a regular post, isn’t it?

BUT it’s a hot, September Saturday after a long, beer-soaked, excruciatingly divine Out of Bounds Friday night and if there’s ever an excuse to lazy it up, it’s this.

Spent the whole day snoozing and reading A Storm of Swords. About to don my own armor and meet this Saturday night bare-fisted and expectant. Bring on the LOLs, OOB. Bring them ON.

Desire and Little Dragons

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Surprisingly, this isn’t a post about A Game of Thrones …

***

I can’t tell if I smell food or if I smell like food. This is troubling me more than it should.

Hmm.

***

OOB little dragon

Moving along, I’m so excited about Out of Bounds! It’s reminiscent of how I felt during my first SXSW in 1994. There’s so much going on, SO MUCH to see that I’ve given myself an ulcer just trying to make sure I’ve got my must-see shows in order. Not a real ulcer, thankfully, but a pretend-for-the-Internet ulcer. Lucky for me, there’s pretend medicine for it and I’ll be feeling pretend better shortly.

Tuesday night I saw:

You’re Not My Real Dad
Magician vs. Clown
¡Zazamora!
The 3$Bills
The Asides
The Dukes of Bedside Manor

… and it was amazing. My favorites of the night were the bookends YNMRD and TDOBM. Seeing these four improv masters (yep, I said it, masters) in YNMRD get to play together rocked my socks right off. Tom Booker embodies funny. He just does. Asaf, Dave and Ratliff were … is there a word for hilarious that also means amazing? The four of them, man, they were awesome.

The Dukes of Bedside Manor!! My lord and butter, THE DUKES OF BEDSIDE MANOR! I’m a new fan, a huge new fan. They looked like they were having the time of their lives on stage, breaking the fourth wall and being ridiculously physical in their play. I loved it.

I don’t know the name of the woman who plays in The Asides, but she’s got such a great style of play. She’s riveting to watch, actually. (Oh hai, thanks Google! Her name is Erica Lies.)

I took last night off from OOB to spend some time with Rachel and hear all about Brazil over margaritas and tacos. OOB is awesome, my sister is even more so. And tonight! TONIGHT! I’m going to bounce between Coldtowne and The Hideout. I’ve got a tentative eight shows and a roast to enjoy. More recaps later.

Why does the photo have the new Little Dragon CD in it? I just bought it. I was so … moved (or inspired? transported? is that the word I’m looking for?) by the song “Ritual Union” that I went directly to Waterloo and bought it immediately. I can’t remember the last time that happened. It’s all about the digital these days. Everything exists in the 0101001000s. Except for this, for this I needed to have that tangible experience, the desperate “can’t wait to get the plastic off in my car” moment. Desire, baby, she’s the strongest influencer of them all.

“To dream of caramel”

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August was entirely too hot to even get bothered.

That’s saying something. But as we’re rounding the bend on the tail end of it, things are shifting again under the Texas sun.

* * *

Tonight kicks off the 10th annual Out of Bounds Comedy Festival. (Essentially, SXSW for the comedy set.) I bought a fancypants badge so I can see everything, including (and especially) Boom Chicago! BOOM. CHICAGO! Remember a million years ago when I used to work for them? Passing out flyers? Drinking margaritas in a Dutch bar? Meeting tourists and seeing shows and all the subsequent hilarity that ensued?

Me, neither! But the fuzzy memories I have of it are epic. EPIC.

I have a tentative schedule mocked up. Fingers crossed I follow it and not flake out in a puddle of exhaustion midway. I’m juggling freelance deadlines this week and the return of the ZOMBIE TOOTH as well, so we’ll see.

Kick-off w/ You’re Not My Real Dad at The Hideout tonight at 8!

Keeping the lyrics locked in my mouth.

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Well, hello.

So I signed up for that awesome Jill Bernard three-day workshop and only made it to one class. Why only one day? Tuesday night, while we were working out the VAPAPO (Voice/Attitude/Posture/Animal/Prop/Obsession) method and finding voices in various body parts and singing and shouting and generally making with the awesome, I pulled a stitch out of my still-healing, still-painful gums.

And that sucker HURT.

I spent the last hour of class trying not to talk very loudly and under the influence of some extra-strong narcotics. Pain continued to plague me and my inability smile/laugh/eat all week so I sat out the rest of the session and felt really lame about it. But lucky for me, that one day was awesome and totally worth the price of admission.

My regularly scheduled Coldtowne classes started this week, too. The Harold. THE HAROLD. I’m really excited about it, and my instructors are both awesome and they came into class swinging with concepts (and one, with a chart!) and I can’t say how the other seven weeks are going to go, but we’re off to a running start. (I say “instructors” because I’m determined to attend class Mondays *and* Tuesdays to get the most out of it. IT’S THE HAROLD, Y’ALL.)

Wait … this post, this whole post is supposed to be about what I learned in the JB workshop and already I’m not doing it right.

Here’s a giant photo that captures the four-quadrants of the body theory that I’m going to practice the shit out of because it really opened up my mind to the range of potential physicality on stage:

4 quadrants

The arrows there are meant to show how if you move your body in the forward/backward (outward/inward) directions of each quadrant, it designates what you’re projecting.

Head high and forward? Intellect.
Head back and down? Imbecility.

Chest high and out? Confidence/Love.
Shoulders curled under? Insecurity/Rejection.

Your pelvis? Sensuality.

Feet wide and planted? Grounded/Strong.
Moving your feet? Joy/Playfulness.

Now the actors among us probably knew this already. But I’m a writer, and I didn’t.

Go into scenes with these atributes, and you know what you are. Your scene partner can “recognize the shape” and name it. And name you, because as much as I keep hearing and being reminded to name my scene partner, I can’t hear it enough. The audience doesn’t care about characters who don’t have names. Also, names make it easier to call back scenes. “Hey LADY!” is a name as much as “Hey, ARCHIE!” is a name.

Golden advice and worth the cash and the pain.

I looked back at this journal and it looks like I’ve been dealing with this zombie tooth since December. DECEMBER. Last night I was up all night after 2:26 a.m. (like my specificity?) sucking on popsicles and pain pills. NO. FUN.

This weekend looks like a weekend of soft food and smoothies and staying out of this infernal heat. AND THE COLDTOWNE IMPROV FANTASY LEAGUE! How could I forget to pimp that??

Let’s put a pin in that.

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coldtowne theater austin improv


I’m just going to jump right on in:

Remember how I was all, “Oh don’t go telling me to play ditzy, dammit!” in the last post? I voluntarily went there today. Twice, I think. I immediately felt bad because I think this is what my instructor meant by having this character in my toolbox, but then Bill Arnett mentioned something about his side coaching and not wanting it to be confused with choice coaching. And that nailed it on the head. I don’t want to be told to play something a certain way because it’s what someone else wants to see. I want to be shown the choices I have with the characters and encouraged to get at their points-of-view because they’re valid.

I think this makes me sound like a petulant “But I WANT to wait tables forever! What’s wrong with waiting tables??” high school senior who gets told to go to college and then later decides to go only because “it’s my choice!!!” Which, really, may be one in the same and two paths to the same destination. (Sometimes I’m stubborn. That’s right, sometimes.)

A good chunk of the intensive was about playing scenes real. Giving a reasonable representation of real life with real depth. Being okay with having the reactions one would normally have to whatever character is in front of you. And if it’s a fantasy world you’re playing in, make sure to define the rules of the reality of the fantasy.

“The engine of improv is fueled by the logic of morons.” — B. Arnett.

The jury needs evidence. Give more details than you think you should. The audience isn’t going to go, “Oh I already figured she was a dim-witted, small-town guidance counselor. Why did she say AS YOUR GUIDANCE COUNSELOR? Great, that just ruined it for me.” That’s not going to happen. Giving details cleans up the scene. Brings black and white television to hi-def.

And make sure it’s shown/told/expressed more than walking out and saying, “Oh, I’m so messy!” Instead, talk about the pile of dirty laundry on the bed and the week’s worth of take-out boxes reeking in the sink. And the flies. Maybe even the fact that you have five cats and don’t own a vacuum cleaner AT ALL. Show and tell. Show and tell. Show and tell.

Something that really resonated with me: Many problems in a scene can be fixed by your scene partner calling them out.


Not enough info?

    Call it out.


Weird/Absurd response?

    Call it out.


Character not acting “right” given the situation? (Wait, you’re happy to hear great-grandma died? WHY?)

    Call it out.

 

Brilliant, right? THE MAN IS BRILLIANT. I can’t wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow will be even MORE. And bonus? This workshop has a show.

***

Tonight I get to spend time with the crew celebrating Alicia’s birthday. And I’m going to give that wonderful woman a shout-out so she can see this next time she checks out the blog. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BEAUTIFUL!!

alicia

“All of the Lights”

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Two posts in one day? Not hardly. But back-to-back postings? YES.

Look at this GIANT photo of this healthy crap I forced myself to drink. It looks toxic. It tastes toxic. It’s supposed to be good for me.

CLEANSING SUCKS. Also, mental note, if your cleansing routine means eating whole, natural foods, staying away from dairy and meat and caffeine and sugar and alcohol, try not to go out for antelope tartare while sucking back Harvey Wallbangers after class with Lindsay. Just sayin’.

I have more things to say about improv. Deal with it.

Last week I took a group workshop taught by Craig Uhlir, who plays/teaches at Second City and IO in Chicago and has an all-around reputation for hilarity and improv-awesomeness. Whenever I take workshops (and I’m a bit of a workshopaholic) I’m always nervous about who else is taking it, whether I’m bringing the class down by being the least-experienced improvisor, whether I’m going to be shamed and berated for breaking improv, etc.

This particular workshop was exactly this, times 129,033. Because not only were most of participants graduates and regular, incredible performers in their own right, my instructors were taking the workshop. Krilov from level one, (the! most! excellent!) Ratliff from level two (and who am I kidding, pretty much most of level three) and Coldtowne faculty I haven’t even met yet.

It was a four-hour workshop, which I didn’t realize (I kept waiting for him to cut us off, every few minutes, after the two-hour mark) and I learned so much.

But you know, the thing with me learning so much? I STILL IMMEDIATELY FORGET. Ugh with this goldfish memory bringing me down all the time. I took notes as soon as I could (hello nifty, new journal shout out!), but I could actually feel important things slipping away as I was trying to get it all down.

What stuck with me:

    If you’re nervous, think about group work in fractions. If there are six of you on stage, you’re responsible for 1/6. (Hey look, MATH IN REAL LIFE.)

    If a scene is happening (in my case, this pretty much applies to shows and exercises, too.), think about it like a freight train. The longer you wait, the faster it goes by, making it that much harder to get on board. (Pretty much JUMP, THEN JUSTIFY.)

DOING this is such an essential part of this work. I can talk about it, write about it, read about it all day, but until I DO it, it’s nothing.

Everything from nothing, jump then justify, yes and — these are essentially the keys. This, and supporting your team.

So, that being said, in class last week Michael put in a call for volunteers for the Sit-ins. I’m doing it.

Today, Ed asked if I wanted to sit in on Dr. Doctor this weekend. I’m doing it. (Double the panic, double the pain.)

I may fall down (literally, you all know how clumsy I am), I may fry, I may break improv. But I’m going to DO until I don’t.

All Elvis Costello, All Day.

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I’m trying not to live life according to song lyrics. That’s always a bad idea.

TWO WEEKS. I was doing so well with my updating and posting. I’ve been cheating on this blog with my journal. Not my Livejournal, mind you, my real-life journal. Getting all my facts and fictions, crises and carousing and crushings down on actual paper takes me back to the days of drinking black coffee, sweaty palms and hand cramps.

I performed on stage! It was terrifying and I wanted to vomit all day, but I did it. It was as part of the Sit-ins, featuring Oh, Science! They were, of course, amazing. And super supportive. Playing along with myself and other first-timer, Will (who’s in Troupon, more on Troupon later), were two level-one students, one of which had never seen an improv show. She was FEARLESS. I want to be her when I grow up. Screw all this, “WAH I’M SCARED!” business.

I didn’t let anyone know where I was performing or what time. I’m not ready for people I know to see me on stage yet. So Daniel respected that, but wanted to surprise me and celebrate afterward. He showed up to wait outside The Hideout with a bottle of wine in this bag.

Which was sweet, right? Only thing was, I had my show at Coldtowne. This is what I get for keeping my mouth shut. Shot-down surprises.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The other really! big! thing! that happened to me last week was being picked for “Quote of the Day” on the Obama campaign website. I’m trying to donate every time I get angry at the news (which, albeit, is a lot) and I made a comment to illustrate my point:

And then this happened:

I ran around the office like a big dork, but at the end of the day, I made two people, TWO donate to the campaign. (One again, the other, for the first time.) A small difference, but a difference nonetheless.

So there’s that.

Improv, stage fright and President Obama. ¡SI SE PUEDE!

“Very, Very Temporary”

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Got a new notebook.

Look… see… feel the inspiration. I’m writing up class notes and other varying thoughts and callbacks from my improv-student life.

I’ll be on stage for the first time this weekend. Not telling what stage, what time or with what group because I want exactly NO ONE from outside my classes to see me. I’ll start pimping out performances once I can get past the “I’M GOING TO BREAK IMPROV!” thoughts out of my head and one show under my belt. Everything from nothing, right?
Continue reading ““Very, Very Temporary”” »

Wrestling

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Friday night was the annual Ladies of the Austin Improv Collective Slumber Party. Even though I knew only a handful of those attending, I was prepared to dive right into an extended clothes swap, confessional booth, game night and epic, epic truth circle (that lasted 5+ hours) with around twenty amazing, talented and hilarious women. Also there was alcohol. A lot of it. And arm wrestling.

[album=2011-austin-improv-collective-slumber-party]

P.S. — This next gen gallery is for the birds. Sorry for the annoying and unconsistently sized slideshow.

I learned my stripper name is Metal Mouth and my ultimate improv troupe name is Uterus Happy Hour. Is your reaction, “Uhh…?” Good! You get it! U.H.H.!

I didn’t sleep but an hour in the wee morning, sat outside for a quiet moment to enjoy some cold kung pao chicken (buying it hot, sticking it in the fridge — best morning-after idea ever) and accidentally locked myself out of the back of the house. Trying to finagle my way around the house and back in through the front door in my pajamas, and then locating all of my belongings (I packed like I always do, in absolute excess) and trying to sneak out without waking the house was a challenge.

That was actually much easier though, than leaving the house and driving home with the creeping horror of “OMG I TOTALLY OVERSHARED.” hanging over my head.

Circle of Truth! Truth Circle!

Oh, Mouth. *shakes head*