Level 5: UCB NYC
Posted by Plague | Filed under Guest Blog, Talkin' Shop - We talk improv. Any questions you want discussed can be. Email us @ captain@ussrocknroll.com., The Plague
::Applause:: for Zachary Norton from UCB NYC’s Level 5.
Zach Norton is a college textbook editor and UCB-trained improviser living in New York City. He performs every three weeks at the Richmond Shephard Theatre with his comedy troupe, Maybe Sherman, and recently started a blog about self-education at www.autodidactopsimath.tumblr.com.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me preface this post by saying that improv is a fairly new phenomenon for me. Aside from a well-done production of “Little Shop of Horrors” produced during my Junior year of high school in Charlotte, North Carolina, I didn’t really have much theatrical experience coming out of college. But ever since I was old enough to stay up past curfew to watch Kids in the Hall, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and The State, I loved comedy.
Towards the end of my first stressful year in 2007, I decided I needed a creative pressure release valve to stay sane. It was either register for an introduction to Graphic Design at the School of Visual Arts or take a class at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater… so I signed up for Improv 101 with Will Hines at the UCB Training Center and it irreversibly changed my view of the world.
Since that first “yes and” I managed to go through all five levels of the UCB training program, see a ton of amazing shows, form a great independent comedy troupe, and play more than a dozen comedy venues in Manhattan alone. No matter how much fun I have or how much success I encounter, however, I will always remember my final Improv 501 class as my comedic trial by fire.
My instructor for the class was none other than Michael Delaney, a long-respected member of the UCB Theater’s weekend team, The Stepfathers. I had a hard time believing he was an improv genius the first time I saw him. His slight, elfin frame seemed more befitting a math teacher than it did a robust and vital comedian. But I ignored my doubts and accepted the notion that this man would lead me to the holy grail of improv comedy.
An improviser’s final class in her first training cycle will always be a shock to her system. She learns the Harold, reads Art By Committee and Truth in Comedy, and joins a reliable practice group all before finishing her 401 class. And, most importantly, she feels ready to take a bite out of the Big Improv Cookie and join a Harold Team or even start auditioning for film, stage, and television. But it’s never that easy. The final class places upon its students the ultimate burden in improv–the need to play truthfully. I found this out the hard way when I approached 501 with the same overeager, cartoonish enthusiasm with which I approached my 401 class with Neil Casey.
It felt like everyone in my class knew each other prior to signing up and I was the only one left out in the cold. We all were very anxious to do well and shine individually in our scenes, but that was not what Delaney was looking for. Whenever one of us tried to upstage a scene partner, play a crazy, out-of-touch character for the audience, or ignore an improviser’s request for help from the back line, Delaney reprimanded us with the firmness and bite of a jaded army commander. We each shone in our own way and he wanted us to play together and support each other unconditionally because he knew that otherwise we would die onstage.
I remember performing a Harold in class one day where the first two beats of a scene promised the appearance of an eccentric, exhibitionist, strung-out-on-heroin uncle. I leapt into the scene as quickly as I could and asked my niece and nephew in a squeaking falsetto if they’d like to see their uncle’s bait and tackle. Delaney, usually very calm and serene during class, leapt out of his chair with an anger that made him loom over the entire classroom.
“No, no, no! You’re not playing truthfully! Give the audience something real!”
At the time, I was terrified. I wanted to do well, I wanted to impress, and I yet I was trying to do that at the expense of my scene partners. I didn’t realize that last bit at the time though, and I simply decided that Delaney just didn’t like me. For the remainder of our class, he tried to coach us into respecting and mastering the rules of long form so that we could break them later. I didn’t realize this and I spent the rest of my class time being scared of the disapproval of my instructor.
Graduating from 501 is a lot like earning a black belt in Karate: the achievement itself is just the start of long and wonderful journey towards the perfection of a craft. The Harold is not the only long form out there and there are many different ways to create compelling characters during a show. Improvisers can start a scene with a strong premise in order to find game or they can chance upon it organically by feeling out the reactions of their scene partners. Improvisers can arrive at a game by simply moving in a unique way or by just caring enough abut their scene partners to exhibit an honest reaction. Bottom line, an improviser’s first training cycle teaches them the foundation they will need to begin making their own great discoveries in comedy.
My 501 class instructor recognized that my fellow students and I somehow arrived at a very rigid view of long form and sought to correct that. Delaney helped us rediscover the truth that lay outside the Harold formula. He didn’t seem to care whether or not we found a game so long as we found the truth in our scenes, the honesty that comes when your character has a sincere relationship with the character your scene partner invents. My Improv 501 class was neither my easiest class nor my most fun class, but it definitely helped me make me a much better improviser.
Tags: Kids in the Hall, Little Shop of Horrors, Michael Delaney, The Annoyance, The State, The Stepfathers, Tonight Show with Jay Leno, UCB, Will Hines
