Posted this a few days ago on Facebook. Interesting look at the new UCBEast theater.
Will Hines has been teaching and performing at the UCB Theatre in NYC since, like, 2001, sheesh. He curates the tumblr blog improvnonsense.com. First and last names used in this essay in case anyone gets famous.
One breakthrough I had was a quiet, internal one. I don’t think any of my classmates noticed it, but to me it was a huge victory: the day I learned to not quit in scenes.
To have that breakthrough, I first had to learn that I was indeed quitting in scenes.
I was taking my third improv class at UCB in NY and also was practicing once a week with friends from my previous two classes. I was a shy, unconfident player who was most worried — correctly — that I was boring on stage. Trying to fix that, I focused very much on the quality of the idea I was bringing to the scene. It needs to be funnier, I kept telling myself.
In one practice, our coach John Bowie said that to practice commitment we were each going to do seven minute scenes — an eternity to our inexperienced perspectives. I went up with Mike Fine, a classmate I liked very much, and we started a scene as two plumbers trying to fix a sink (how many early scenes do we do as two people unable to fix problems?).
Despite being there with a scene partner I trust, after two minutes I became so frustrated with how boring it felt that I sat down on the floor and refused to speak. Mike kept trying to talk, I’d refuse to answer. After the full seven minutes, John called edit.
After practice my friend Mitch Magee said to me “You’ve been doing that a lot — giving up,” I tried to brush it off: “What’s one scene? Besides it’s truthful to sometimes be quiet if you’re at work.” I honestly thought I had been making the “right” move by doing nothing for five minutes.
“No, you’ve been doing that a lot,” Mitch said. Through his description, I suddenly became aware that at the halfway point of almost every scene my character found some reason to quit. My character would declare the issue unimportant, or I’d choose to get a phone call and ignore my partner, or I’d sometimes literally leave the scene. And I always had a rationale of how I was playing truthfully or serving the game.
It’s stunning I needed it pointed out. But we don’t let ourselves see our worst habits.
Now that I knew it, it was clear: I was scared of improv, for fear of being boring. And my brain could come up with a reason in any situation to let me feel good about quitting.
Having seen the light, I threw everything out of my brain except one thought: do not quit. Anything that felt remotely like quitting, I went the other way — regardless of what it meant to scene or game or anything. If the choice was dance or not dance, I danced. If the choice was believe or don’t believe, I believed. Physical, emotional, choices — I would not back off.
In the short term, I became what probably looked like an empty-headed, inept player. But I was building a muscle.
I also fought my quitting instinct off stage. I rejected thoughts of quitting improv, which was something I’d do often. “You are not allowed to quit,” I told myself. “You can’t leave unless Amy Poehler herself tells you to stop taking classes.” I stopped putting myself down to my friends and stopped putting anything I was involved with down.
My final test was having a practice session with a coach who was overtly bored with me. This was not my imagination; he would let his eyes glaze over and stare slack-jawed once I started talking, an intimidating wall of unimpressed boredom. Winning him over was impossible.
But I didn’t need to win him over, I just needed to not quit.
I was so unnerved I still remember my first scene (though it happened October of 2000). I stepped out with John Gemberling, a member of my group, one of the funniest people I have ever met and a favorite of this coach. If the coach was bored by me normally, he would loathe me in contrast with John, or so I feared.
The suggestion was “mirror.” John initiated that he was a scumbag modeling scout and I am a girl in the second grade. “You gotta work out, you know? You’re not gonna make it in this business,” said John. Coach loved it, and now I’ve been endowed as a little girl. Normally I would have kept my own voice, rationalizing that I needed to play at the top of my intelligence.
No, I told myself, that would be quitting.
I adopted what I wanted to be a genuine little girl’s voice, a girl who was smart and who wanted to be a model. I wish I could say that by being brave I did a great scene, but no: my voice sounded false, my nervousness undermining. The coach’s eyes glazed, his jaw fell slack.
But I did not quit, and finished that scene without bailing. When the coach called edit, I felt as if I had gone fifteen rounds with my own fear. I felt more confident, just for not quitting, than I had maybe ever felt before.
I also remember when I finally got a laugh out of that coach: it took another two years. And then three years after that he invited me to be on his improv team! So there’s your happy ending, if spending five years to win over one person is a happy ending!
Wait, I’m sorry, I’m quitting on this essay. Let me say that differently: it WAS a victory — five years or not — that day of being a second grade girl was the start of me being an improviser who would never quit.
Previous guests: Will Luera, Matt Folliott, John Ratliff, Jill Bernard, Andrea Del Campo, Etan Muskat, Rick Andrews, Kristen Schier, Andy Eninger, Jeroen Van Dyck, Remy Bertrand, Caspar Shjelbred, Sean Michaels, Kareem Badr, RobYn Slade, Ian Parizot, Rachel Klein, Dave Morris, Alex Wlasenko, From the old blog
There is a lot of talk on Tumblr in the last few days about Harold Auditions (I assume they’re happening in NY soon?). So as someone who watched literally thousands of people audition for Harold Teams over the last few years and as someone who can now speak frankly because I have nothing to do…
Relevant to our upcoming auditions…
- vinny
The latest one (Episode 18) with Ian Roberts is worth a listen. Haven’t listened to the other ones yet.
- vinny
Really like that list at the top.
- vinny
This is a series in which I ask great improv teachers to write down their thoughts on teaching improv. We start with Chris Gethard, who was the second person to ever run the UCBT-NY school after Kevin Mullaney.
Gethard wrote the first full curriculum for the school, taught dozens and dozens of very popular classes at all levels and also coached some of the best teams to ever develop at the theater. For a majority of the people who have considered themselves UCB performers in the last 10 years, Chris has been one of their prominent coaches/teachers.
He also has a new book out, A Bad Idea I’m About To Do, which you could check out.
Q: What are common notes you give to students?
Gethard: Here are pretty much all the notes and speeches I give, all the lines I draw in the sand. Honestly, I think if anyone reads all these they don’t even need to take a class with me:
- Chill the fuck out.
Pics from Sunday at the DCM
Level 1 Improv from UCB LA
The little brother of Just For Laughs has posted its schedule (and done away with the interface horror of last year’s website). The line up seems a little less edgy and heavier on the stand-up this year. Though UCB is playing TSC this year. Curious to see what shows and teams make their way here.
-fv
