ImprovDr.com

Commandment #7

Our journey through my dog-eared manual of Theatresports commandments continues with our seventh entry in the series:

When in doubt, break the routine

An unbroken Routine can leave you scene work trapped in the status quo.

Moments to Uphold the Routine… and Moments to Break the Routine…

This is just a taste of this entry/concept. Go here for more information.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
Photo Credit: Tony Firriolo
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

Connected Game: CAD Bell

A Peek Inside: E Pluribus Unum

I think it would be fair to characterize E Pluribus Unum, which played at the Orlando International Fringe Festival in 2005, as having an auto-biographical feel. (Read more about this production in my earlier blog here.) I’ve developed a custom in my campus work of often using our own names onstage which can further incline improvisers to lean heavily on their own stories and truths in performance, or at least use personal narratives as a launching point. This has the added advantage of minimizing the “I’ve forgotten your name” shtick than can become omnipresent and distracting lazzi in more sincere pieces, although I’ll happily acknowledge that there are certainly times when an improvised name can really add nuance and detail to a character or endowment.

To further encourage more personally meaningful improv, I’ll often spend considerable time early on in my rehearsal processes unlocking and sharing true stories and experiences as a way of building connections, trust, and frankly even material in the absence of an audience. The exercise I describe here, Fluid Sculptures, is a great option for facilitating this type of sharing. I spent a month in the summer of 2004 at the School of Playback Theatre, and that’s where this game entered my lexicon.

Fluid Sculptures provides a meaningful way to check in with the company, develop deep listening skills, explore kinesthetic communication, and heighten trust.

Here’s a peek inside:

The Basics

Players form a circle. One player volunteers to serve as the first “teller” and shares a brief statement or story about their day or the emotional climate they are bringing into the space. The player positioned opposite in the circle along with the performers on each side (for a total of three) translate this feeling into a brief moving sculpture that seeks to honor the details and “truth” of the shared story. Once the sculpture finds stillness and completion, the person next to the prior teller shares a new story, and the three performing players correspondingly clicks around one spot as well. This continues until everyone has had an opportunity to share (and perform in three re-tellings).

The Details

It’s a little difficult to describe the nuances and feel of the miniature performances in a written medium. If you are familiar with the short-form warm-up game of Machines, the logistics are similar (players work together with their bodies to create noises and actions in one connected image) although the mood and intent are markedly different. Generally, it’s helpful for the “middle player” to begin and end the sculpture, with the others stepping forward or arranging themselves around this first choice. As each choice generally repeats in a loop, the ending often emerges when the action has been sufficiently repeated or perhaps when the routine reaches a climax or is broken. Players can elect to take different phrases, energies, or ideas from the teller’s narrative, especially if there are clearly conflicting or contrasting dynamics or “characters,” and can use language, sounds, or utterances in addition to movement. As is the case with the parent form of Playback Theatre, the key is striving to honor and represent each teller and their story in a way that doesn’t critique or belittle. That being said, there is often laughter as the group recognizes themselves and their own similar tensions in the vignettes, but the intent is not to cleverly entertain.

Example

The first “teller” offers that they are feeling a little overwhelmed. Prior to coming to rehearsal, they had to leave their child at home who was clearly wanting attention, and they’re feeling some guilt that they really wanted to be among adults tonight. They’ve been having a hard time balancing family and work commitments in general and craving an escape from it all for several days now.

After a moment of silence, the teller’s actor (opposite in the circle) steps forward and takes a huge de-stressing breath, joyfully seeing the adults in the room. Once this is established, the player repeats this general motion with a sense of relief and release.

The actor to one side of the teller’s actor kneels down beside them, gently pulling on their sleeve and saying, “Just one more game…” with a plaintive cry. This continues as the first actor acknowledges the child’s presence but tries to retain the sense of calm.

The third and final actor steps behind the first and mimes juggling three cell phones, trying to frantically read each screen before it is thrown once more up into the air. Again, the two prior actors adjust and react to this new addition but maintain the central concept of their first choices.

The teller’s actor takes one last long sustained exhale, cuing that the sculpture is complete, the performers slowly stop, and they take a breath together.

Traps and Tips

1.) Avoid commentary. When you are first experiencing this game it’s unavoidable that there may need to be some guidance or coaching in terms of the mechanics and form, finding the most effective way to begin and end tableaux, tightening staging, and encouraging listening and the like. When it comes to the content, however, you want the performances to serve as the response to each teller, so avoid discussing each contribution whenever possible, especially before the performances have taken place.

2.) Remember who the exercise is about. The last beat of each vignette is typically the actors turning and giving the focus back to the original teller. This can be helpful in several ways. If something is “off” in the performance, the teller has a moment to quickly digest and perhaps share that reality. Conversely, if something is particularly “on” or moving in the performance, the teller can have a moment to process and acknowledge what resonated. In some rare instances, I’ve seen a redo if the tone or focus of the vignette was sufficiently off that it left the teller unsatisfied or made them feel poorly heard. If our focus is on representing the teller’s feelings and narrative with nuance, a second chance may be necessary and welcome.

3.) Break down the elements of the teller’s narrative. I’ve tried to model this as best I can in the example above, but often there will be multiple energies, facets, or possibly even characters in the mix and it can be dynamic and fruitful for the three responding performers to look for these contrasts and opportunities. (This feels connected to Augusto Boal’s “Cops in the Head” work and Playback shares approaches from the realm of psycho- and socio-drama as well.) Performers may all contribute from the teller’s perspective (the deep-breathing first character above) or include other dynamics (such as the child above), assume metaphoric or thematic energies (such as the juggler above), or a variety of these approaches.

4.) Don’t over-rely on language. I will admit that this might be a personal preference, but the exercise can unlock interesting new ways of representing lived truths and experiences, and I think this sense of discovery can be discouraged if players essentially just paraphrase the initial story or engage in long dialogues with each other. This is where I think the Machines comparison can be helpful in that each player generally makes a distinct action accompanied by some noise or a brief sentence that is then repeated. These offers can certainly morph and transform, especially as new elements are introduced, but you don’t want to think of these as scenes so much as moments or tableaux, hence the helpfully descriptive title of Fluid Sculptures!

5.) Be gentle and patient. This can be a surprisingly vulnerable experience, especially if this type of sharing is not the norm for your company or class. Allow sufficient time so you don’t have to rush through it and can tend to anything that might bubble up in the process. For example, if a teller is processing their performance in a complex way, it is certainly worth taking the time to make sure they were heard, and this may require some additional sharing or feedback.

Final Thoughts

This exercise can take a while to teach and mold, especially if you’re working in a larger group. Once a company knows the exercise, it will generally move a little quicker, but there can be times when heavier material emerges, and it will need time to breathe. I had this slated as an early part of my first E Pluribus Unum rehearsal as I wanted to set a tone of honesty and bravery for our improv, and this certainly helped in that regard. If your troupe has a check-in routine, this is also an interesting and effective way to add a performative element that promotes some good old-fashioned empathizing and Atticus Finching.

I don’t recall if this particular exercise is in Jo Salas’ book Improvising Real Life, but this is a helpful resource if this type of work is of particular interest to you and you’d like to learn more.

And that’s your peek inside the rehearsal process of E Pluibus Unum: Out of Many, One, my first improv show at a fringe festival.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

My First Fringe Show: E Pluribus Unum

During the end of my my second year of teaching in Orlando (2005) I made my first effort at producing and directing a long-form improv show for the Orlando International Fringe Festival. As is my wont, I jumped into these new waters with probably much less information than I should have had, but was fortunate to have some knowledgeable collaborators at my side, including Stacy Norwood, who in addition to being a student of mine at Rollins College and a performer in the project, took on the critical role of production stage manager. Stacy was truly instrumental in helping me figure out the basics of fringing Orlando-style and as the company took shape, the project certainly benefited from the expertise of other fringe veterans as well.

One of my favorite memories of this particular project was that the ensemble drew from a wide berth of sources, including some members of my on-campus troupe, Rollins Improv Players — that was just starting to gain some momentum — improvisers drawn from the SAK Comedy Lab stable, as well as actors and performers from the local community.

The Basic Premise: A theme-based one-act long-form, each performance of E Pluribus Unum takes inspiration from a slate of audience offers and suggestions, weaving together monologues and stories through multiple scenic rounds.

The basis of this form was largely developed during my time at Louisiana State University with my troupe there, The Improvisors (what a creative name!) It would certainly be fair to characterize it as Harold-esque in the broadest sense, although the major similarity would be the utilization of several rounds of reappearing scenes. The “feel” and momentum differs greatly in that there are typically many more vignettes that are shorter in length, each drawing inspiration from the array of suggestions elicited at the top of the show. We were also very much aiming for a slice-of-life style of performance tackling some complex issues head on. My current format, Variations on a Theme, on the Rollins College campus is certainly the next iteration of this experiment.

I think this was taken during one of our last technical rehearsals!

Perhaps one of the more unique facets of this particular production and form was our use of live percussion throughout that provided the heartbeat of the structure. Our company included many gifted musicians/percussionists, Keith, Eli, Zeldagrey and Jay among others, and this was a central element from our earliest rehearsals. As the company came from a wide variety of backgrounds and training modalities, we also had a nice variety of styles, energies and approaches which complemented each other more and more as the process unfolded. It was also certainly a risk to bring a less overtly comedic style of improv to a fringe festival, but we had solid attendance, garnered some nice reviews that understood and appreciated what we were going for, and I think (I hope!) the experience was largely positive for all involved.

Lessons

There were certainly some lessons too. This was the first and last production of a company that I founded solely to mount this fringe show, the Impromptu Theatre Company. It was perhaps unavoidable, but name recognition goes a long way at a Fringe Festival, and being a new face in town working under an original production company moniker while offering a more nuanced style of improv provided a stack of challenges. The show title, while descriptive of the format, had a pretentious air too. As I noted above, I certainly benefited from fringe expertise within the company itself, but I think I under-estimated how much marketing and promotion efforts are needed when you are one of a hundred productions competing for audiences and attention. I’ve since seen the efforts and resources deployed at the Edinburgh Fringe and though I’d love to perform there, I find the very thought of it overwhelming. Eight of our fourteen company members rotated into performance positions for each show alongside percussionists and stage management, which did allow us to have some folks focus on marketing prior to each show, and a robust company certainly helped in terms of word of mouth.

—
The Company:

Jay Barwick
David Charles
Heather Charles
Robert Coll
Keith Dickerson
Gina DiRoma
Autumn Garick
Eli Green
Jenn McElroy
Patti McGuire
Stacy Norwood
Richard Paul
Zeldagrey Riley
Tye Sherwood
—

The downside of a robust company was the profit split at the end of it all. I’m proud that we did actually end up reasonably in the black, especially for a first time endeavor, but dividing the returns into fourteen shares certainly provided a modest payment. Luckily, folks knew the likelihood of riches were low when they signed up (!) but as a producer I would have liked to have been able to provide more-than token remuneration.

I also wish I’d made a much more conscientious effort to take more professional photos of the show and the process. This was fifteen years ago when cameras and phones weren’t yet one and the same, but the few images I have do little to capture the feel of that show and certainly weren’t of the caliber to assist us in our marketing efforts.

Artistically, I was pretty happy with the result. The show had a slick and dynamic opening and closing, the company worked nicely together, and I think we did well balancing more overt comedy and humor with sincerity and truth which has become one of the central focal points of much of my work as a deviser. While I had a strong sense of the structure and constituent elements going into rehearsals due to the development period with the form at L.S.U., a company member did share that they would have liked a better sense of the big picture as the process begun. They felt themselves wanting a clearer road map earlier, and I think that’s a fair and helpful expectation especially when there isn’t a common training unifying the group from day one. I’m still not 100% sold that this style or material was the best fit for a Fringe Festival, but we found an audience that seemed to like what we were doing!

Improvising at an exclusively improv-focused festival feels substantially different than providing such an offering at a more diverse and inclusive theatrical fringe. Has that been others’ experience as well?

You can take a further peek inside the project here.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

Game Library: “Sentences”

For this ImorovDr Game Library addition I’m exploring the concept of waffling as outlined in the sixth commandment. Here’s a game I play a lot with my campus troupe called Sentences.

The Basics

The fun is optimal with a team of four players but could certainly be played with more or less. In addition to a regular suggestion to launch the scene, acquire a four-letter name or word from the audience (preferably with four different letters). Each team member, standing in a line, is assigned the number that corresponds to the next sequential letter of the acquired name. (“A” = 1, “B” = 2, and so on.) For the duration of the scene, each player must speak in sentences that contain their specified number of words.

Example

If the name “Juan” is obtained from the audience:

Player A (assigned the “J”) must speak in sentences with 10 words.
Player B (assigned the “U”) must speak in sentences with 21 words.
Player C (assigned the “A”) must speak in sentences with 1 word.
Player D (assigned the “N”) must speak in sentences with 14 words.

The Focus

The challenge of this game changes depending on how many words you have been assigned. In rehearsals, for those players prone to waffling, it would be strategic to assign them smaller numbers, with larger numbers going to those who may be more reluctant speakers. While it is certainly part of the challenge for players to have to stop sentences mid-flow as they have reached their word limit, players should aim to complete their thoughts in the allotted time. Therefore, it’s important to focus on making the most of each word within the context of the scene.

Traps and Tips

1.) Model the dynamic for the audience. In performance, after letters and numbers have been assigned, I’ll usually have team members then re-order from largest to smallest number. In this new arrangement they then introduce themselves to the audience with the appropriate number of words. So, in the above example Player B (letter “U”) would go first and might say, “Hello everyone and welcome to our show, my name is Shannon and for this scene I speak in twenty-one word sentences.” Player C (letter “A”) would be the last to introduce themselves and might just say “Hi.” Keep the introduction tight as you don’t want to spoil the silliness that is to follow.

2.) Sure, count on your fingers. Especially if you’ve been given a larger number, players will typically keep track of their progress on their fingers. I actually think this is part of the charm of the game as it allows the audience to watch you strive to hit your target number. Be careful of just speaking quickly and approximating your word count as some in the audience will invariably catch your out. It can also be a common trap to start to count syllables rather than words, so be on the lookout for this too!

3.) Be strategic with entrances and character combinations. If you have a huge number – “U” as 21 in the above example – this player can make for a highly successful late or climactic entrance where they can take the game to a whole new level. I find it helpful to start with a combination that doesn’t initially feature the outlying numbers, or perhaps just one of them, if the alphabet spread allows. There is also a contract with the audience that every player assigned a number/letter will appear and speak at least briefly in the scene, so be aware if a teammate has been waiting patiently in the wing and try to get them to the stage if the scene is drawing to a close.

4.) Beware of interruptions. As each player has a specific word target you need to be extremely careful not to interrupt each other before any particular speech act is finished or the dynamic will quickly become wonky. This serves as an additional lesson from the game in that you need to end your sentences clearly and exert patience if you have a great idea brewing but are not the current speaker. It’s also key to the game dynamic not to provide more than one sentence in a row: so, if you’ve been giving “A” or 1-word sentences, saying “Hi,” “I’m,” “Stephen,” isn’t really embracing the spirit and challenge of the game. There are always earned exceptions discovered in the moment, but don’t start with this approach as your norm.

5.) Remember to be a human. When improvisers first play this game, there can be a tendency to become a little robotic in your speech as you try to count each sentence on your fingers as you go. When you become more confident and proficient, it adds finesse to the exercise if you really commit emotionally to your sentences. I appreciate it when players attack their lines in such a way that they might accidentally run out of words right when they need them: this takes the risk and abandon up another exciting notch!

In Performance

This is a short-form game that still amuses me decades after I first encountered it as the potentially endless variety of number combinations radically changes any one specific scenic performance. If you’re inclined towards waffling, taking on the smaller numbers can be a really powerful reminder of how much you can do with only a few words at your disposal, and the central dynamic of the game that requires speakers to change with great frequency can also encourage sharing the work around the team. If this game isn’t in your short-form rotation, it’s certainly worth a look.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
Photo Credit: Scott Cook
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

Connected Concept: Commandment #6

Commandment #6

Thou shalt not waffle

If you find yourself leading with your words – and using a lot of them in your scenes – you may be falling into the trap of Waffling.

Engaging our Whole Selves as Improvisers…

This is just a taste of this entry/concept. Go here for more information.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
Photo Credit: Tony Firriolo
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

Connected Game: Sentences

Game Library: “It’s Tuesday”

I first encountered this change-inducing game during my training in New Zealand, and it’s a standard in Keith Johnstone’s Impro if memory serves. Regardless of what day your calendar might currently display, in this improv world It’s Tuesday.

The Basics

Players work in pairs. Player A provides a simple or nonchalant statement, such as “It’s Tuesday.” Player B, in turn, must have an intense emotional reaction to this news and justify this strong point of view in a brief monologue.

Example

Player A: “It’s Tuesday.”

Player B: (with growing excitement) “It’s Tuesday? I had totally forgotten the day. I can’t believe that I’d nearly forgotten my wife is finally getting home today. It’s been four months, and I’ve missed her so much. I can’t wait to finally hold her in my arms again and tell her everything that she’s missed. I just love her so much…”

The Focus

This is an exercise that has a lot of gifts to offer depending on the way in which you frame and use it. Here, it supports the notion that we should be changed by our partner’s gifts and that, in fact, even a seemingly simple comment can be profound if we treat it as such. It also encourages providing emotionally brave and supported choices, and encourages players to leap to a dynamic choice and then justify it.

Variations

I know of two versions of this game, although I’m sure there are more. The first is discrete, in which each initiating offer results in a self-contained monologue. Once it is complete, the player who has just finished this emotional journey resets and offers their partner a new unrelated “bland” statement, such as “It’s raining outside.”

The second variation is continuous, where the tagline or end of the monologue (ideally, similarly “bland”) serves as the inspiration for the second player to launch into their own rant. From the example above, a tag line of “I just love her so much” might result in Player B declaring with shock, “You love her so much?! You promised me that you were going to leave her! Have you just been stringing me along this whole time…?” In this second variant, you get a series of connected monologues with an emotional roller coaster kind of feel.

Traps and Tips

1.) Leap then justify. It can be tempting to internalize our initial reaction as we seek a “viable” emotional response and rationale, but the exercise is more dangerous and fulfilling if you just trust your instinct and jump to an emotional energy and then fill in all the nuances and details as the monologue unfolds.

2.) Embrace the bland. It’s likely that players may stumble into really interesting initiations, but this diminishes the risk of the game in many ways. “You just hit my dog with your car” has a more obvious and built-in punch than “That’s a nice sweater.” The latter puts the work more squarely on the shoulders of the receiver. The more mundane the first offer seems, the fewer constraints are imposed on the second player.

3.) Deepen your emotional storehouse. When you first encounter this game, it’s not uncommon for emotional reactions to be rather simplistic: “I was mad in that last one, I’m going to try to be happy in this next one.” This is certainly a fine place to start, but if you’re circling back to the exercise, really try to invest nuance and complexity into your first reaction. Pride, remorse, suspicion, and other similarly complex emotions and states of being are likely to unlock new story and character potentials.

4.) Explore your range. Emotions can be played in thousands of ways. Don’t settle at the most loud or obvious version of an emotion and just stay there. Explore the ebbs and flow, the subtleties and idiosyncrasies. This will also likely open up more avenues of discovery for your justification monologue rather than just leaning back into one static emotional approximation. It’s also fine (and great) for your initial emotional choice to have completely morphed into something else organically by the end of the vignette. In this particular use of the game, the focus is on being changed and not necessarily staying in one emotional energy exclusively.

5.) Use your whole self. This exercise has a tendency to become a little “talking heads” (or perhaps yelling heads) so make sure you’re using all your gifts as an improviser and performer to give the scene truth, size, and connection. Adding a detailed location and activity into the mix can provide another nice layer, as can changing up the central relationship or character traits.

In Performance

“It’s Tuesday” is such a great reminder that any choice can shine if we lend our flashlight to it. We can sit in a scene “waiting for something dynamic to happen” all the while missing that we have the power to make almost anything dynamic if we so chose to. If your scene is stagnating this is a pro-active way to get some heat onto the stage: respond as if you heard “It’s Tuesday,” be changed, and connect to a new emotional truth or point of view.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
And visit the ever-growing Game Library Index here.
Photo Credit: Tony Firriolo
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

Connected Concept: Commandment #5

Commandment #5

The fifth commandment extols:

Thou shalt always be changed by what is said to you

To resist Change on the improv stage (unfortunately) results in you getting exactly what you expected – and nothing more.

Ways to Embrace Change…

This is just a taste of this entry/concept. Go here for more information.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
Photo Credit: Tony Firriolo
© 2020 David Charles/ImprovDr

Connected Game: It’s Tuesday

Game Library: “My Movie”

As I noted in an earlier entry examination the fourth commandment of Theatresports here, while most companies discourage gagging on the improv stage, there are games where word play and whimsy are required – hence this week’s choice of My Movie, My Movie, My Movie.

The Basics

Players form a line at the edge of the stage and are led by a conductor (another player or the host for the event). A movie category, style, or similar prompt is obtained. Players, when signaled, all chant “My Movie, My Movie, My Movie,” and then the conductor nominates a random player to offer an original title that meets the given category. The conductor might ask for additional information regarding the current choice before a new player is nominated with a definitive point. The titular chant repeats (unless you’re craving a faster style of play), and a new invented title is provided. The game typically rotates through three or four different audience prompts in this fashion, with each round culminating in a particularly memorable creation.

Example

The audience provides the prompt of “Science Fiction” and the initials “D.C.” The host kneels in front of the players who have formed a line and begin by chanting “My Movie, My Movie, My Movie.” As each player is nominated, they provide a new movie title:

Player A: “Deep Cosmos”

Player B: “Desperate Computers”

Player C: “Dance of the Cyborgs…”

The Focus

There isn’t a lot of time to think and plan in this game, which is a large part of its charm and gift. Remember, the longer that you stall as a player, the more time the audience has had to come up with something with which to compare your idea! Encourage players to throw themselves at the titles: often the best are truly formulated syllable by syllable before the audience’s eyes. Most players I know actually find the addition of the guiding initials (modeled above) as a handle more liberating than thwarting as it provides some boundaries to create within.

Traps and Tips

1.) Use the chant to keep energy and attack high. It’s a fun gimmick of the game and stops it from becoming too ponderous, so really embrace the chant when it’s cued by the conductor (usually to start each round, and typically to bump up the energy between titles as deemed necessary).

2.) Explore the potential of the titles. The conductor can request additional information for titles that are particularly fun or ripe with artistic opportunities. I’ve asked for descriptions of the movie poster, the tagline, the elevator pitch, and the like, and will often end the game as a whole with a quickly staged climactic scene or song.

3.) Pace the addition of handles so as not to overwhelm. It’s helpful to gently crank up the level of challenge. Perhaps start with one initial and a style, and then raise the bar to two or three initials. As I’ve noted above, in my experience, at least one initial seems to aid in the creative process and most players struggle with an opening round that has little or no prompt to inspire the choices.

4.) Don’t forget charm and callbacks. Players can really make rather mundane titles fun and memorable with added playfulness, and the format invites the discovery of patterns and games. A well-timed callback to a previous title will often provide a strong out.

5.) Be careful of outstaying your welcome. Be wary of letting rounds loiter too long. We often used this game in our version of Gorilla Theatre at SAK Comedy Lab where there were just three of us playing with the director serving as the conductor. We might get through the company once or twice before changing it up with a new audience suggestion.

In Performance

This is such a fun, high-energy addition to a playlist. We exploited it quite frequently in the decade-long run of Gorilla Theatre but usually with some frame that shook it up a little. I’ve done “Deal Breakers,” where we jammed movie titles, and then, when asked, players had to provide the element or casting choice that turned the movie sour. We also changed the focus from movies on occasion: one of my teammates introduced a “My Cocktail” version, which was particularly memorable. Here, we had to come up with original cocktail names and then list the ingredients if we stumbled upon a winner!

Connected Concept: Commandment #4

Commandment #4

And the fourth commandment declares:

To gag is to commit a sin that will be paid for

Gagging displays an often counter-productive tendency to go for the laugh at the expense of everything (and everyone) else.

Assuaging the Gagging Beast Inside Us All…

This is just a taste of this entry/concept. Go here for more information.

Cheers, David Charles.
www.improvdr.com
Join my Facebook group here.
Photo Credit: Tony Firriolo

Connected Game (working on the related tool of punchlines): My Movie

A Peek Inside: Insta-Musical Just Add Water

As noted in my earlier blog, Insta-Musical: Just Add Water was my first – perhaps slightly clumsy – attempt at a fully improvised long-form musical. One of the underlying concepts that was unique to this production and that I’ve played with a lot since was creating a stock of song structures that could be deployed within the arc of the show to help create variety in terms of song type, energy, and number of singers. It’s important to note that the songs were still truly improvised – melodies, lyrics, and accompaniment were not set in any way – but they were predictable in terms of how the parts were assembled. Would the song start with a verse, utilize a hook or repeated phrase, and when would the chorus typically appear? I will acknowledge that this approach is not everyone’s cup of tea, but particularly when it comes to group songs, I find it helpful to have a basic road map especially if you’re working with a new ensemble that doesn’t have decades of experience reading each other’s subtle musical intentions on stage.

As an example, I offer you Work Song, which is one of the more peculiar options we had at our disposal. I actually think the song format was inspired by a distant memory of a family of musicians performing on an English variety show that I saw and filed away in the recesses of my brain as a kid in New Zealand!

Here’s a peek inside:

The Basics

Work Song is a structure that introduces and unites four characters musically. It has a sense of whimsy to it, with a unique approach to a chorus that primarily consists of rhythmic and syncopated sound effects that gradually build and evolve as each new character and voice are added. I dubbed it Work Song as it often fits well in a work environment as you see the various functions or roles each person fulfills.

The Details

With four players, this is a Verse, Chorus, Verse, Chorus, Verse, Chorus, Verse, Chorus, repeat Chorus to a resolution structure. Each player, in sequence, introduces themselves in a solo verse, typically two rhyming couplets or similar. Later players should strive to mirror the length and musicality of the first singer to give the song a sense of uniformity. At the completion of the verse, the singer provides a lead into the effect of “And I go…” or “And it sounds like…” and then crafts a series of verbalizations that mimic a component of their activity, subtext, or emotional state. Generally, this pattern is repeated twice as the chorus (and the chorus takes up about half the space of the solo verses).

Example

Player A: (beginning the song by stepping downstage and pantomiming their activity)

“I work here at the office, slogging to earn my pay,
Standing at the copier, just passing the time of day.
They hand me stacks of paper, like none you’ve ever seen.
And I watch the light scan by as I put them in the machine

And I go… Zip, Zippity Zip, Zippity Zip Zip Zip (scanning sounds)
And I go… Zip, Zippity Zip, Zippity Zip Zip Zip”

Each player repeats the pattern, crafting a unique verse from their character’s point of view, and then adding their own rhythmic chorus addition. The new singer cues the chorus with a similar launching phrase, taking the first line alone to establish the new work sounds, with the previously established players joining on the repeat. Once all the voices have been introduced, the full chorus generally repeats and builds.

Traps and Tips

1.) Character is key. I’d certainly consider this a charm song and as such you need to really establish strong and clear points of view and sell them in the various verses and staging. I don’t think the cuteness of the format would particularly serve later in a performance as it has a very “let’s meet the family” premise at its core.

2.) Avoid sentences in the chorus. If the chorus consists almost exclusively of utterances and sounds rather than words and phrases, it really makes it stand out and will likely avoid replicating other song energies and dynamics that you have in the mix. There is always the exception to the rule, and often the fourth player can get away with something a little more language-based, but if the chorus starts with phrases, it’s hard to break that pattern further down the line.

3.) Know your order. When I utilize this type of strategy in my long-forms we nearly always have a default singing order so that players aren’t suddenly taken off guard when others are expecting them to sing. I’ve found the simplest assumption is just to start with the most stage right singer and then move in order across the stage. This also allows singers to juggle their spots if they would prefer to go sooner or later or know that they have a strong closing point of view that would work well in the final position.

4.) Capitalize on the silences. In the chorus, in particular, really look for different rhythms and ways to syncopate your choices with those that are already established. If someone has crafted a long sustained legato feel, providing something sparser and staccato can be really effective and dynamic. Musicians should err on the side of simple as the chorus is being established as well as you want the actors’ voices to at least initially create the interest here.

5.) Tell the story. The repetitiveness of the chorus is both the blessing and the curse of this particular song frame. It invites an escalation or heightening with appropriate staging and emotional attack. Ideally, the song feels as if we’re peeking inside the heads of the characters (hearing their subtext) so it’s also a great way to reveal secrets, passions, or idiosyncrasies that can then inform the resulting scene work. If the content and verses are too trivial, the song feels like a place holder as opposed to a way of establishing relationships and a work or family routine.

Final Thoughts

This is probably an unlikely showstopper but it’s a playfully different way of assembling the elements of a song. While this idea was birthed with Insta-Musical, I’ve gone back to the central premise and polished it several times for my later musical experiments, most notably FourPlay: The Improvised Musical, which took this concept of having a Rolodex of possible song structures up several notches. (That’s an image of the first season of this production at SAK Comedy Lab above.) If you’re finding your improv songs are all starting to sound alike or defaulting into ballads, this might offer a different approach.

And that’s your peek inside Insta-Musical: Just Add Water, my first crack at mounting a long-form improv show.