This just in:
Improv Asylum will be presenting a Second City revue in Boston from late April 2010 to late May 2010.
So, for any friends, coworkers or family who aren't improv savvy/geeky, a quick background: The Second City started in 1959 in Chicago and is a comedy theater. A ton of famous people have started their careers there including Bill Murray, Gilda Radner and John Belushi. It now also has theaters in Toronto, Los Angeles, plus multiple touring companies. So... it's big.
So in 2010, from late April to late May, the owners of Improv Asylum are sponsoring a company to come to Boston to create a show that will run for about three weeks. The shows at IA will continue as normal; the Second City show is at a different theater in Boston. IA's producing it; the writers and directors are all Second City folks. They will most likely bring actors from other places, like Chicago...
... but they are also holding auditions amongst Asylum actors and alumni for (at least) two slots on the cast.
Which is very, very exciting.
The most exciting thing about it isn't that, though. It's what this could do to stir up more interest in comedy in general in the city. People who have never heard of "sketch," by that name, or whose only experience with improv may have been a bad one may undergo a conversion.
And when Second City leaves at the end of May they will look to other venues for their comedy fix. Boston is about to become an even funnier place (hopefully).
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
jump start my heart, you.
Friday had been an unintentional marathon of an evening starting with two shows at Improv Asylum followed by drinks at The Field with the cast of Crime Solving Bear 2, breakfast at 2am at IHOP and finally a viewing* of Wet, Hot American Summer for the breakfast survivors at chez moi at around 4am.
I only tell you this because you'd think that Saturday I would have slept all day.
Instead, Saturday morning I woke up restless.
The kind of restless I haven't felt in years, for reasons I will dwell on in a future post.
I tried to watch an episode of Mad Men (I'm still in Season One), and found myself unable to concentrate. I found out my plans in Boston for the night were being deferred to another evening and I only grew more itchy. I alternately cleaned the kitchen and bathroom. I considered and rejected complicated dinner options. I surfed tracks on The Scarlet Pimpernel soundtrack until I'm sure my roommates wanted to hand me over to be guillotined. I switched to The Last Five Years.
Outside the sky was blue, and the tree outside my window, with all its reds and oranges reminded me of Amherst. The first time I listened to The Last Five Years was in Amherst. My trip to Amherst was scheduled for the morning. Man, do I miss Amherst, I thought.
I decided to throw some clothes into a bag for the morning.
Then it was all over.
Once the clothes were in the bag my mind was made up. I began throwing things into the backseat of the car. I felt like a version of myself I hadn't quite noticed gone missing.**
Within fifteen minutes I was in the car belting the words to "I Can Do Better Than That," and cruising in a zen like state*** towards the middle of the state back to a town I've had a love/hate relationship with for years.
The first thing I did at Amy's house was accidentally almost electrocute myself in an incident involving an electric socket in their low set ceiling, and a giant sword. The second thing I did was debate at length about what it would have looked like, and if it would have been appropriate to carve into a gravestone.
The restlessness had dissipated on the road and was replaced with an overwhelming sense of coming home.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
* We all promptly fell asleep, so it was more like a "putting on for background noise."
**Which is a good thing since most of my life demands a lot more discipline than I used to have.
*** only more driving appropriate
I only tell you this because you'd think that Saturday I would have slept all day.
Instead, Saturday morning I woke up restless.
The kind of restless I haven't felt in years, for reasons I will dwell on in a future post.
I tried to watch an episode of Mad Men (I'm still in Season One), and found myself unable to concentrate. I found out my plans in Boston for the night were being deferred to another evening and I only grew more itchy. I alternately cleaned the kitchen and bathroom. I considered and rejected complicated dinner options. I surfed tracks on The Scarlet Pimpernel soundtrack until I'm sure my roommates wanted to hand me over to be guillotined. I switched to The Last Five Years.
Outside the sky was blue, and the tree outside my window, with all its reds and oranges reminded me of Amherst. The first time I listened to The Last Five Years was in Amherst. My trip to Amherst was scheduled for the morning. Man, do I miss Amherst, I thought.
I decided to throw some clothes into a bag for the morning.
Then it was all over.
Once the clothes were in the bag my mind was made up. I began throwing things into the backseat of the car. I felt like a version of myself I hadn't quite noticed gone missing.**
Within fifteen minutes I was in the car belting the words to "I Can Do Better Than That," and cruising in a zen like state*** towards the middle of the state back to a town I've had a love/hate relationship with for years.
The first thing I did at Amy's house was accidentally almost electrocute myself in an incident involving an electric socket in their low set ceiling, and a giant sword. The second thing I did was debate at length about what it would have looked like, and if it would have been appropriate to carve into a gravestone.
The restlessness had dissipated on the road and was replaced with an overwhelming sense of coming home.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
* We all promptly fell asleep, so it was more like a "putting on for background noise."
**Which is a good thing since most of my life demands a lot more discipline than I used to have.
*** only more driving appropriate
Friday, November 6, 2009
Improvisers in the (Medical) Workplace
Recently Liz Caradonna of e-liz, posted a blog entry about what assets an improviser might bring to an office workplace entitled "Beyond 'Be Funny!': improv at the office."
Some ideas covered in the piece include the value a good improviser places on trust, and the concept of not overlooking the obvious answers to simple and complex questions.
Her follow up piece How to Listen, expands on the idea of how (good) improvisers may listen differently than others. (I almost just repeated half of her entry here because I love her explanation of this idea so much. But she explains it so well that paraphrasing doesn't do it justice. Do yourself a favor and go read it.)
Because people are generally always asking me if my improv helps me as a nurse, I have had a chance to come to many of the same conclusions as Caradonna.
In fact, almost everything she said about being an improviser in an office job can be said of being an impoviser in a medical field.
I'd like to briefly expand on her ideas in the context of a health care provider's daily work.
1. Trusting/Teamwork. Trust or lack of trust can literally become life or death very quickly in a medical work environment. But even in low stake situations trust is essential to successful patient outcome. In an ideal situation every member of the team, from respite aide to attending M.D is out to provide the best patient care possible while also lifting up and empowering every other member of the team. It's not in anyone's best interest to do anything else. For an improviser, the concept of working with a large group of people towards one common goal is familiar and easy. The give and take of leadership and trust comes naturally, and is an area a good improviser absolutely thrives in.
2. Being a Good Public Speaker. Improvisers are good to have on hand at staff meetings. They have a good sense of how to gauge an audience which makes presentations more effective. But a good improviser is usually also good at private speaking. This means not being afraid to talk to patients, family members and to advocate strongly for their rights while encouraging their compliance with care. You shake hands, you introduce yourself, you make eye contact. You know the patient's history going into the interaction. You are sure of yourself and encourage others to be sure of you as well.
3. Don't Discount the Obvious. Caradonna has a great explanation of why this is an improv skill. My two cents on the medical end is that it's really easy to see a tanked oxygen saturation level on the screen of the pulse oximeter and start to flip out. You want hook them up to 02 2L via nasal cannula STAT. But first you should check to see that the sensor didn't just fall off their finger while you weren't looking!
4. How to Listen. A good improviser is always a good listener. And a good listener makes a good nurse. In nursing school we spent entire lectures learning how to listen. We role played. We took tests on listening. Every therapeutic interaction with a patient is based on how to listen and how to listen well. As an improviser you are trained to listen well, retain information, and reflect and mirror your scene partner. Moreover, you are trained to respond to your partner as fully as possible, by attempting to demonstrate your acceptance of their personal reality.* You seek to understand their perception of their illness in addition to seeing the disease process through a clinical and objective eye in order to gain insight into a much larger picture of the patient's wellness. Providing therapeutic care is going to come very easily to anyone who does these things as a natural part of conversation.
I really wish I'd had the right language to use to describe all of this years ago while I was doing my psych clinical. My instructor was dubious of my ability to be a performer and a nurse. I felt like I was constantly defending my art to her, despite my stellar grades. I was conferencing with her one day and made the mistake of explaining that I approach every interaction as though it were an improv scene.
"No!" she exclaimed, "no, you can't do that. This isn't a joke. These people are sick."
What I meant of course was that I was going to listen to my patients, validate their experiences by accepting their reality, trust my co workers and keep my mind grounded at all times in the truth of the nurse-patient relationship. Which I tried to explain, too late and a bit lamely.
I felt like from that moment on she was watching me as I made my rounds on the homicidal-suicidal unit where we worked, just waiting for me to mime a paintbrush, or burst into free style raps about Prozac so she could report me.
But time soon told what my fumbling words could not: that an improviser's instincts are some of the finest assets an employer can ask for, in any field.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* "...these responses go a step further than "what I hear you saying is..."; they say, "I hear you. I understand the universe that you're living in... and I'm living in it, too." This is the message that radiates from an exceptional listener. "We're in this together." (Caradonna, How to Listen)
Some ideas covered in the piece include the value a good improviser places on trust, and the concept of not overlooking the obvious answers to simple and complex questions.
Her follow up piece How to Listen, expands on the idea of how (good) improvisers may listen differently than others. (I almost just repeated half of her entry here because I love her explanation of this idea so much. But she explains it so well that paraphrasing doesn't do it justice. Do yourself a favor and go read it.)
Because people are generally always asking me if my improv helps me as a nurse, I have had a chance to come to many of the same conclusions as Caradonna.
In fact, almost everything she said about being an improviser in an office job can be said of being an impoviser in a medical field.
I'd like to briefly expand on her ideas in the context of a health care provider's daily work.
1. Trusting/Teamwork. Trust or lack of trust can literally become life or death very quickly in a medical work environment. But even in low stake situations trust is essential to successful patient outcome. In an ideal situation every member of the team, from respite aide to attending M.D is out to provide the best patient care possible while also lifting up and empowering every other member of the team. It's not in anyone's best interest to do anything else. For an improviser, the concept of working with a large group of people towards one common goal is familiar and easy. The give and take of leadership and trust comes naturally, and is an area a good improviser absolutely thrives in.
2. Being a Good Public Speaker. Improvisers are good to have on hand at staff meetings. They have a good sense of how to gauge an audience which makes presentations more effective. But a good improviser is usually also good at private speaking. This means not being afraid to talk to patients, family members and to advocate strongly for their rights while encouraging their compliance with care. You shake hands, you introduce yourself, you make eye contact. You know the patient's history going into the interaction. You are sure of yourself and encourage others to be sure of you as well.
3. Don't Discount the Obvious. Caradonna has a great explanation of why this is an improv skill. My two cents on the medical end is that it's really easy to see a tanked oxygen saturation level on the screen of the pulse oximeter and start to flip out. You want hook them up to 02 2L via nasal cannula STAT. But first you should check to see that the sensor didn't just fall off their finger while you weren't looking!
4. How to Listen. A good improviser is always a good listener. And a good listener makes a good nurse. In nursing school we spent entire lectures learning how to listen. We role played. We took tests on listening. Every therapeutic interaction with a patient is based on how to listen and how to listen well. As an improviser you are trained to listen well, retain information, and reflect and mirror your scene partner. Moreover, you are trained to respond to your partner as fully as possible, by attempting to demonstrate your acceptance of their personal reality.* You seek to understand their perception of their illness in addition to seeing the disease process through a clinical and objective eye in order to gain insight into a much larger picture of the patient's wellness. Providing therapeutic care is going to come very easily to anyone who does these things as a natural part of conversation.
I really wish I'd had the right language to use to describe all of this years ago while I was doing my psych clinical. My instructor was dubious of my ability to be a performer and a nurse. I felt like I was constantly defending my art to her, despite my stellar grades. I was conferencing with her one day and made the mistake of explaining that I approach every interaction as though it were an improv scene.
"No!" she exclaimed, "no, you can't do that. This isn't a joke. These people are sick."
What I meant of course was that I was going to listen to my patients, validate their experiences by accepting their reality, trust my co workers and keep my mind grounded at all times in the truth of the nurse-patient relationship. Which I tried to explain, too late and a bit lamely.
I felt like from that moment on she was watching me as I made my rounds on the homicidal-suicidal unit where we worked, just waiting for me to mime a paintbrush, or burst into free style raps about Prozac so she could report me.
But time soon told what my fumbling words could not: that an improviser's instincts are some of the finest assets an employer can ask for, in any field.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* "...these responses go a step further than "what I hear you saying is..."; they say, "I hear you. I understand the universe that you're living in... and I'm living in it, too." This is the message that radiates from an exceptional listener. "We're in this together." (Caradonna, How to Listen)
Friday, October 30, 2009
rest your weary head, all is well
I was standing in the hallway, torn between two or three tasks.
Fresh in my mind were the events of the morning. A patient at serious risk for a second pulmonary embolism walked out against medical advice. As he stood with me, holding his bag of belongings he told me his cravings for drugs were too strong to resist. The nurse practitioner approached our stand off. She asked him to stay. She told him he could die. He looked at her and said he understood. I raised my eyebrows, pleading with him. He looked right into my eyes and shook his head. Then he left. And I sat at my desk for a long time, not speaking.
But- there was other work to be done, so I found myself in the hall, prioritizing the rest of my shift .
I only saw Mr. M's back as he walked down the hallway with the program director but I sighed inwardly, my thought process temporarily interrupted. Every time he leaves he's in great shape, and when I see him again he's a wreck.
But then I watched, intrigued as the program director led him past the nurses' station into the dying man's room and then left him there.
"He's come back to visit," she said to me as she turned from the door. "I told him we could make an exception."
I watched as he grasped the older man's hand, his face beaming with love. The older man forced his own eyes open and searched the young man's face, slowly recognizing a stranger that he once told us was "like a son to me."
"He's been sober for three months," the director told me, "that's a really long time for him."
I knew that, and I nodded.
"That's incredible," I said, and found myself speechless again.
Things like that can change the entire day.
Fresh in my mind were the events of the morning. A patient at serious risk for a second pulmonary embolism walked out against medical advice. As he stood with me, holding his bag of belongings he told me his cravings for drugs were too strong to resist. The nurse practitioner approached our stand off. She asked him to stay. She told him he could die. He looked at her and said he understood. I raised my eyebrows, pleading with him. He looked right into my eyes and shook his head. Then he left. And I sat at my desk for a long time, not speaking.
But- there was other work to be done, so I found myself in the hall, prioritizing the rest of my shift .
I only saw Mr. M's back as he walked down the hallway with the program director but I sighed inwardly, my thought process temporarily interrupted. Every time he leaves he's in great shape, and when I see him again he's a wreck.
But then I watched, intrigued as the program director led him past the nurses' station into the dying man's room and then left him there.
"He's come back to visit," she said to me as she turned from the door. "I told him we could make an exception."
I watched as he grasped the older man's hand, his face beaming with love. The older man forced his own eyes open and searched the young man's face, slowly recognizing a stranger that he once told us was "like a son to me."
"He's been sober for three months," the director told me, "that's a really long time for him."
I knew that, and I nodded.
"That's incredible," I said, and found myself speechless again.
Things like that can change the entire day.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
what I did for love
My hands and feet are all cut up from Gorefest*, and the other day as I washed fake blood out of my real scrapes I realized I had absentmindedly started humming "What I Did For Love." I immediately thought of Keith.
Keith A. Grassette was working as the artistic director at Riverside Theater Works in Boston when we met. He loves to tell the story of how we met as much as I do. It goes like this: "Michelle was blindfolded when I met her and she bit me." I was auditioning for the role of Helen Keller at the time. Keith loves to explain that even as I was biting one of his hands he was pointing at me with the other and mouthing "this is her" to the producer. I love to explain that I had no idea who Keith was, and had been warned to "stay out of Keith's way," if I ever auditioned at RTW.
Under Keith's tutelage I learned the ins and outs of stage production. Keith taught me how to be professional, how to show up on time, how to take notes gracefully. Over the years I acted in as many plays as he could cast me. I became his intern, I taught some of his classes and eventually became his co worker, teaching my own classes at the theater. Then, most importantly I became his friend. Once I left high school Keith and I were able to share stories over drinks, gossip about mutual friends and trade advice on shows and classes. I went on to teach theater part time for the next six years (and counting!) at Thacher Montessori. Like a child mimicking a parent, sometimes I still hear Keith's words come out of my mouth when I address my students.
One of Keith's frequent speeches to wishy washy students was the "What I Did For Love" talk.
"I got news for ya'll**," he'd say making eye contact with the pre teens crowding the stage steps. "It's not a song about a relationship. It's a song about the theater. Sometimes you make sacrifices. When this is what you love, that's what you do. You miss other things. You give up some parts of your normal life. Because this is what you love."
In college I basically stopped doing scripted theater in favor of studying improv. Keith asks when he sees me (about twice a year now), "You still just doing that improv stuff?" Keith, as a rule, does not really enjoy "improv stuff."
So I called him last week.... and I invited him to Gorefest and didn't realize until I said it out loud how much his answer would mean to me.
He's coming tonight with our friend Maureen. I haven't seen either of them in almost a year. They haven't seen me perform in almost five years.*** I'm full of giddy energy just thinking about seeing them both again and making them proud. Both of them, but especially Keith. I've watched the whole show in my mind, trying to see it through his eyes. Will he think it's as funny as I do? Will he like the music? I think he will. I have a lot of faith in the show. But I recognize the part of me that's 15 years old working as hard as I can to show my director that I've got the "chops." Gorefest is for always for everybody. But tonight, this show is for Keith.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* The stage is very rough and gritty to prevent slips. Unfortunately, that means that coming in contact with it, even intentionally, scrapes us up a bit.
** Keith is from Maine
*** With the exception of a Three Hole Punch show we did in Plymouth a few years ago.
Keith A. Grassette was working as the artistic director at Riverside Theater Works in Boston when we met. He loves to tell the story of how we met as much as I do. It goes like this: "Michelle was blindfolded when I met her and she bit me." I was auditioning for the role of Helen Keller at the time. Keith loves to explain that even as I was biting one of his hands he was pointing at me with the other and mouthing "this is her" to the producer. I love to explain that I had no idea who Keith was, and had been warned to "stay out of Keith's way," if I ever auditioned at RTW.
Under Keith's tutelage I learned the ins and outs of stage production. Keith taught me how to be professional, how to show up on time, how to take notes gracefully. Over the years I acted in as many plays as he could cast me. I became his intern, I taught some of his classes and eventually became his co worker, teaching my own classes at the theater. Then, most importantly I became his friend. Once I left high school Keith and I were able to share stories over drinks, gossip about mutual friends and trade advice on shows and classes. I went on to teach theater part time for the next six years (and counting!) at Thacher Montessori. Like a child mimicking a parent, sometimes I still hear Keith's words come out of my mouth when I address my students.
One of Keith's frequent speeches to wishy washy students was the "What I Did For Love" talk.
"I got news for ya'll**," he'd say making eye contact with the pre teens crowding the stage steps. "It's not a song about a relationship. It's a song about the theater. Sometimes you make sacrifices. When this is what you love, that's what you do. You miss other things. You give up some parts of your normal life. Because this is what you love."
In college I basically stopped doing scripted theater in favor of studying improv. Keith asks when he sees me (about twice a year now), "You still just doing that improv stuff?" Keith, as a rule, does not really enjoy "improv stuff."
So I called him last week.... and I invited him to Gorefest and didn't realize until I said it out loud how much his answer would mean to me.
He's coming tonight with our friend Maureen. I haven't seen either of them in almost a year. They haven't seen me perform in almost five years.*** I'm full of giddy energy just thinking about seeing them both again and making them proud. Both of them, but especially Keith. I've watched the whole show in my mind, trying to see it through his eyes. Will he think it's as funny as I do? Will he like the music? I think he will. I have a lot of faith in the show. But I recognize the part of me that's 15 years old working as hard as I can to show my director that I've got the "chops." Gorefest is for always for everybody. But tonight, this show is for Keith.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* The stage is very rough and gritty to prevent slips. Unfortunately, that means that coming in contact with it, even intentionally, scrapes us up a bit.
** Keith is from Maine
*** With the exception of a Three Hole Punch show we did in Plymouth a few years ago.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Microphone
Know what makes me smile? BClops rocking a microphone and looping pedal.
http://www.youtube.com/user/StoopMasterB
http://www.youtube.com/user/StoopMasterB
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Unbalanced
On October 12th I had the distinct pleasure of attending the first screening of UNBALANCED, which is an independent television pilot written and produced by the very talented Neil Reynolds. The pilot was directed by Jeremiah Jordon with Jason Haas as Director of Photography.
I'm going to post the trailer here, but you can also visit the UNBALANCED official site for more information.
Reynolds' writing is sharp and funny, brought to life by some familiar Boston and Cambridge actor-comedians. The character work alone was simply delightful to watch. The plot may revolve around a fantasy-world, but most of the humor is derived from truth in relationships and in real life situations. A great example of this involves the obligatory sexual harassment video that Ian (Ryan Petti) absently watches on his first day of work while he talks on the phone to his sister.
It's the very real relationship between Ian and his sister that is the driving force of the entire show. Ian's sister Wendy (Jane Lee), is plagued by hallucinations. Her fantasy world hallucinations are colorful, visually striking and fun to watch. Her monsters Mongor (Brian Church) and Carl (Taylor Newhall), constantly entertain the audience as they terrorize Wendy. The insanity of Wendy's mind makes a great contrast to Ian's bland new office job. But the UNBALANCED team never lets the jokes overshadow the love Ian has for Wendy and as he comes to her rescue again and again it's clear that their relationship is what will last no matter what stakes might be raised in their future.
UNBALANCED is currently being submitted to festivals around the country, and I will hopefully be updating as it gets accepted so you can go out and support it yourselves. For now, the trailer:
I'm going to post the trailer here, but you can also visit the UNBALANCED official site for more information.
Reynolds' writing is sharp and funny, brought to life by some familiar Boston and Cambridge actor-comedians. The character work alone was simply delightful to watch. The plot may revolve around a fantasy-world, but most of the humor is derived from truth in relationships and in real life situations. A great example of this involves the obligatory sexual harassment video that Ian (Ryan Petti) absently watches on his first day of work while he talks on the phone to his sister.
It's the very real relationship between Ian and his sister that is the driving force of the entire show. Ian's sister Wendy (Jane Lee), is plagued by hallucinations. Her fantasy world hallucinations are colorful, visually striking and fun to watch. Her monsters Mongor (Brian Church) and Carl (Taylor Newhall), constantly entertain the audience as they terrorize Wendy. The insanity of Wendy's mind makes a great contrast to Ian's bland new office job. But the UNBALANCED team never lets the jokes overshadow the love Ian has for Wendy and as he comes to her rescue again and again it's clear that their relationship is what will last no matter what stakes might be raised in their future.
UNBALANCED is currently being submitted to festivals around the country, and I will hopefully be updating as it gets accepted so you can go out and support it yourselves. For now, the trailer:
Unbalanced Trailer from Neil Reynolds on Vimeo.
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