Austin Improv

I don't actually believe that, but it's an appropriate title.

I went to see Armando Diaz at iO on Monday night. For those who don't know, Armando is iO's monologist-inspired-scenes format. The thing is, a lot of the teachers (especially the higher level teachers who've been around since Del) play the Armando. There were maybe 12 or 14 players. I've heard it's supposed to be kinda like a long-form micetro where everyone is having lots of hijinxy fun. Anyway the players included but were not limited to: Noah Gregoropoulos, Joe Bill, Jason Chin, Bill Arnett, Jet Eveleth, Seth Weitberg, and others.

These folks are top dogs at iO... and the show was just okay. I mean it was funny. There were some REALLY funny parts (many of them were the monologist's stories), but there were many scenes that just didn't work.

BUT HERE'S THE THING! I still learned a lot from the show. It was a show where the players were obviously skilled, yet still screwing up sometimes. To me it was a clear lesson in the importance of ensemble. You could almost visibly see different styles colliding on stage. In a tight ensemble different styles are what makes it interesting. Monday night it was the problem. It was also cool to see some of my teachers make the same mistakes they preach against in class.

But still, when they practiced what they preached and had fun with each other there was some tear inducing comedy.

I loved watching the Armando when I was up there for the very reasons that Bill mentions. It's true that it was often a clusterfuck. But it was also wildly entertaining.

People tended to take a lot of chances in the Armando. I think part of it was the size of the cast, since it would be almost impossible for one person to screw up the whole show. Part of it was the fact that the cast was always changing: if you know you're not going to perform as tightly as you would with your own group, why not go out on a limb in the opposite direction?

And part of it, I'm convinced, was sheer perversity on the part of the players, who sometimes seemed to be intentionally taking scenes right up to the edge of anarchy just to see if they could pull them back out. Sometimes they didn't, but some of the best moments were scenes that had gotten completely out of control being tied up with one perfect one-line walk-on.

The main lesson I took from watching these shows was that regardless of whether they were tanking or not, the performers always seemed to be having the time of their lives, and the audience was quickly drawn into that space. It was almost as though since the Armando isn't really the responsibility of any one person or group, everybody was off the hook and so could play without fear of consequences.

Oooh, good point, Ratliff. Like highly skilled Jazz musicians who play way outside just to discover and challenge themselves. Interesting.

over time i've noticed a laziness that some veterans adopt. it all comes so easy to them so they take less chances and end up shying away from actually improvising. they know what works for sure and in combination with a reputation they cruise by on being themselves. makes me sick. i'm not saying that's what you saw, cuz i didn't see it. that just seems to be my general complaint with highly experienced players if i dont like it; not enough danger.

to agree with Lamb, I'd say that veterans have a different concept and use of the Edge of Anarchy than the rest of us. Once anything becomes familiar tested tried and true (FTTT) it does me no good.


(part of why I'm in a slump, I guess...)

beardedlamb wrote:over time i've noticed a laziness that some veterans adopt.

I think it was the opposite. When bad scenes happened it seems like it was as a result of the players trying difficult edits and other "high-concept" stuff that had a low chance of succeeding to see if they could pull it off.

hmm, then i can see why that would lead to your saying that ensemble is key. but those are better mistakes to make than laziness, i guess.
all it needed was a guy who was willing to kill those things that weren;t working and go to something else. that guy could be you, bill. make it happen.

The best sounding choirs are made up of many singers that are pretty decent. The worst choirs have nothing but masterful soloists singing at the same time.

-Dav

fbillac wrote:The best sounding choirs are made up of many singers that are pretty decent. The worst choirs have nothing but masterful soloists singing at the same time.

-Dav

I think the worst choirs are shitty soloists singing at the same time. What about a group of masters who know when not to solo. Like a glorious symphony orchestra, or The Traveling Wilburys.

Just to finish Woody Allen's version...


Those who can't teach, teach gym.

comin a yeahhheaahhhhh

beardedlamb wrote:all it needed was a guy who was willing to kill those things that weren;t working and go to something else.

Conversely, scenes that don't immediately seem to work or to make sense on their own (assuming that people in the scene aren't half-assing it, treating it like a fuckaround, and that the scene isn't just irredeemably horrible - not the vibe I got from your description, Bill) might actually have a purpose or role in the grand sweep of the entire performance.

I mean, I personally try to trust that what's created on stage was created out of the moment, by the choices we've made as individuals and as a group. If its purpose or significance isn't readily apparent, I know that a scene's value is A) in already existing and having been presented on stage (why judge it during the performance - that's what notes & post-show discussions are for) and B) in the possibility that with the group's commitment to what's been created that we will discover its greater purpose or significance.

For B), sometimes a scene's significance is as grand as being the basis of a callback that pulls together the whole show and makes it a cohesive performance or as humble as merely contributing to the overall shape, tone, or pace / rhythm of the performance piece (either by contrast to all of the other scenes or in concert with them). In longform, if we truly believe that there's no such thing as a throwaway line or scene even (which is another reason why listening is so important) -- and I know that even the best of players and groups don't always play that way all the time -- then both options (scene with grand signficance by the end of the piece and scene with humble, basic significance by the end of the piece) are important.

In closing (ha!) ... yeah, regardless of my thoughts, poopy scenes exist. I think the question is whether to view that poop as something to immediately run away from or to revel in it and to regard it as fertilizer for what follows in the rest of a performance. It's not a black and white issue, but I think one is more in line with YesAnding than the other.

I wish lamb and bill and jose were all here in Austin.

dont you worry, baby. daddy be home soon.
and i'll come back, too.

jose wrote: I think the question is whether to view that poop as something to immediately run away from or to revel in it and to regard it as fertilizer for what follows.

YES.
That's a lesson I learned and relearned throughout iO.
Level 1 with Charna... I've heard lots of people complain about her as a teacher, but she solidified in my mind one of the most important ideas about ensemble prov: Treat the other improvisors with total respect. No preconceived notions about their skill level, tendencies, or funniness. I know it's a little utopian, but I think it's really important.
Susan Messing's class really drove home the point about "enjoying the smell of your own shit." Joe Bill reminded me of it at the end. If you create something that you think sucks, pretend you don't. Then really dig your heels into it and start to love it.

I just wanna reiterate that whole "everything in moderation, nothing in excess, including moderation" thing. There are lots of improv tenets that I believe to be mostly true, but there are exceptions to every rule. Style of no style.