Improv, Lately

Yes, I am avoiding other thoughts right now. The funeral is in twelve hours.


Improv Gym Workout Report

Okay, I was feeling a little out of my league. Not many beginners showed up to the first session, last Thursday. I got sucked up into the vortex of my head. I was tired, and a little stressed from things that have nothing to do with improv. Introductions, the kind where you go around in a circle telling who you are and something about yourself, make me panicky. I started feeling claustrophobic, too. I took some deep breaths during the break, and got it sort of shook off in time to be - and I really loved this - The Character Who Gets Killed Many Times. In the guise of a re-re-reanimated overbearing mother. Nathan and Tom were my sons, but Nathan was the sherriff, so he kept shooting me in the face. The beauty of it was, after the first time, I knew it was going to keep happening, and quick. The floor was nice and bouncy for falling, and did not leave bruises.


Rock Star Show

I want to talk about our little costume experiment. Yeah, yeah, no "costumes" in improv. Whatever. But I loved, loved, loved playing in a different skin. It was like a mask or a candy shell. And ka-pow, all of a sudden, I was not in my head. Finally! It was kind of like living through my body, not my mind. Maybe the boots did it. They made me feel lithe and springy. Yeah, kinda like a superhero. Or a supervillain.

An odd corollary to the idea that I might feel protected by a costume, and therefore freer to let the actions and ideas come through: I think I play better in a tank top. I've noticed it in rehearsals and classes before, but I wasn't convinced until this show. Sticking to the guidelines of decency, of course, but somehow when I'm less protected by my clothing, when I'm more vulnerable, I feel braver. Like "This is my skin, World. Gimme your best shot." I had a concern about the tattoos being a distraction, but they probably aren't. I've seen ink on other improvisers. I guess you don't notice it after a while.

I still have awkward pauses, especially at the top of a scene. I need to work on doing/saying something immediately, as well as using the edit moment to make the next choice and get into the scene without the deer-in-headlights thing. It also feels like I've developed some kind of edit-waddle, in an attempt to avoid the dreaded edit-stomp. Maybe I'm ducking because an edit is a self-conscious moment for me (slight pull to the head, but too quick to matter), right out there in front, interrupting what people are doing, not in the old scene, not yet in the new.


Warmup vs. Makeup

The eventual answer to this dilemma is that if I'm doing a show with costume and/or makeup, I do not have time to watch the previous show, because I need to be finished with the look before we start warmups, and it has to be done backstage in order not to ruin the initial impact. During warmups, I sacrificed my attention - I was in the same room, but I was spiking my hair and shadowing my eyes in front of a mirror. I listened for my turn, and only missed it once, but I should. have. been. focused. I wasn't holding up my section of the Group Mind. On the other hand, I think I gave a better individual performance as a result of having myself all put together. So: no compromise, my prep time just has to start earlier.


Group Smoke Ritual

This was a first! H7 has usually consisted of a majority of non-smokers. At intermission, Cerrome went out for a cigarette on the back porch of the Imp. Jess knows I carry cloves (a pack can last me weeks), and convinced me that as rock stars, we should be out smoking too. Tiffany popped along and said "I want one!" Then Joe and Zak, who carry their own smokes, came outside. Patrick, who is a smart kid, didn't want to stand out in the freezing cold to watch the rest of us smoke. Okay, it may not be the healthiest group-bonding thing, but it did reinforce our rock star attitudes for the second half!


Armandothon

Tiffany is an animated monologist. Her mind goes everywhere, and she talks almost fast enough to keep up with it. Her speeches are pretty short - at that pace, three minutes would be sensory overload. So, with shorter monologues came shorter beats... five of them, with super high energy. It was fun, and funny, but it wore me out - somewhere in the fourth beat, I had a moment of "Blackout? Please?" Made it to the end, though, which came in at 34 minutes. I'll have some of it up on the Youtube soon.


Anarchy in the H7!

We have been directorless for a month. We grew artistically when we had a director, but I think now we can grow without one. We're taking turns running rehearsals, focusing on our different strengths, accepting different styles of in-chargeness (the word "leadership" seems so stuffy!), having different purposes for rehearsals at different times (i.e. in-depth work vs. upcoming show prep). Our resident revolutionary, Patrick, made this observation: "I'd like improv practice to occur as the co-existence of equals, each leading and following when appropriate. This has never worked in my experience, but I think it could. It would take EVERYONE acting as responsible as the classical 'leader/director' and also not having any ego issues." Perhaps we can work toward such a point; the possibility intrigues me.