Today I took my first improv class—instructed by the amazing Will Luera—so I can no longer humblebrag that I have performed in a show without any experience. Which, to be fair, was a bit of a stretch anyway: to start, Sam Ike casted me in last week’s “Dear Diary” show more as a cruel joke than because of my actual talent, and secondly, Will had in fact hired me in 2010 for a corporate gig to help facilitate a scavenger hunt for the employees of Manhunt.net, the world’s largest gay hookup site, alongside the very talented Ben Scurria, Rebecca Rose Vinagro, and a third person who never accepted my friend request. So, my humblebrag really should have been that my first ever experience doing improv was paid, but again, nothing to do with talent: it was just a matter of me being on the IB e-mail list and Will being trusting. And it was certainly not comprehensive: I picked up a few warm-up exercises that day, along with some attitude from one guy who didn’t want to do them (“Do you know who I am? I’m the CMO. Just give us the next clue.”) The topic being covered today was Specificity, and Will talked about how, just by being specific, you can generate “gifts” for the other performers to take and run with. It also helps the audience stay with you because they don’t have to spend the energy to figure out what’s going on. This touches on something I already try to do when telling a story off-stage. The theory goes that it is enjoyable to have one’s imagination engaged. By using visual language (“I walked to the store” vs. “I went to the store”), and transitioning from narrator to actor in your story (through the use of casual miming), you weave a more interesting tale, and people will generally enjoy your company more. Speaking of enjoying the company of others, as I throw myself more into comedy, it has been hard to beat the social circle that is The ImprovBoston Community. When everybody in a group is a professional or semi-professional comedian, the laughs honestly do not stop. You don’t have to worry about alienating anyone with your over-the-top personality or immature sense of humor. It can certainly cross a line, when people will continue to make jokes even when you’re not in the mood, but those instances are rare. I’ve missed this for much of my life; you would think that being “the funny one” in a friend group is an enviable position, but performers being the validation vacuums that we are, you often find yourself becoming “the entertainment”. It is a lot more enjoyable to feed off of each others’ energies, and it is especially a treat when you’re sitting next to someone like Quentin James, where every word out of his mouth has you on the floor. Did I mention that these are some of the *nicest* people, too? Danielle Andruskiwec not only encouraged me to audition for something, but gave me a ride home after today’s post-practice brunch, keeping me out of the rain!
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 23:52:49 +0000