Entertainment Books

Archive for September, 2009

Typically, canvassers practice raps by watching demonstrations and by practicing in pairs. They evaluate each other after each rap, on how well each person has used the basic skills of strong communication – eye contact, strong positive language, KISS (Keep it Short and Simple), targeting (asking for donations in specific amounts), and clipboard control (handing over the clipboard at just the right time to seal the deal).

The goals of the various role-plays are to teach canvassers to understand the structure of the rap, which allows her or him to always guide the conversation back to the desired conclusion – and to use the basic techniques of strong communication. It is the application of these skills, not the depth of a canvasser’s policy knowledge, which will induce the public to contribute to and join the organization. (Typically canvassers are trying to mobilize supporters; that is, trying to get the people who already agree with them to do something about it, rather than trying to change minds.)

There are a number of variations on basic canvass role-plays that are used to break the monotony of practice, such as everyone practicing just one part of the rap, or doing a complete rap on totally different (or fictional or comical) issue.

The show follows the social misadventures of a dysfunctional couple on a blind date and their dour waiter. When the couple comes to various decisions, such as white or red wine, the waiter steps forward and becomes the servant of the audience: he solicits their vote, through applause or a show of hands, and the action continues based on the audience decision. There is virtually no improvisation. A script exists for white wine or red wine.

There were many challenges translating the appeal of the CYOA novels into an hour-long romantic comedy. Stylistically, the show had to be somewhat believable as a blind date but the characters and situations had to be exaggerated to mirror the pulp-inspired feel of the novels. For example, if the audience votes for the man to go to the bathroom, he slips on a piece of lettuce and dies; the choice is then revisited with the death-inducing bathroom option removed. This satisfies the desire for the sudden “wrong turn” aspects of the novels, and on a practical level allows the show to stay on track and tell its story in under an hour.

The introductory scene needed to contain every bit of necessary exposition about the characters since it is the only scene that is guaranteed to be performed. Also, plenty of different ideas and themes needed to be established for the multiple divergent scenes and story arcs to explore.

Knowing a lot about the main character was not a concern of the CYOA novels, since they were written in the second person. This perspective is arguably the reason for the books’ popularity. It’s easy to invest in a choice about whether to jump out of a moving car, or to trust a stranger, if it’s all happening to you.

For improvisers, observation is the ability to recognize fully the words being spoken, the events unfolding, and the subtle signals of body language, both in one’s self and others. There are not wrong things to observe or right things to observe. But whatever the improviser observes becomes a rule of the game.

A simple example of something that happens easily is when someone stutters while introducing him or herself. If a performer hears someone say, “I’m, uh . . . Steve,” then what was observed might become the rule: that character’s name is not “Steve,” it’s “Uh . . . Steve.”

This is the way the rules that govern the story’s game are discovered, and it works for every aspect of an improvised scene. To the audience, it may seem that a character at the beginning of a scene has come purely from the imagination of the improviser. In truth, the people on stage are deluged with signals providing inspiration for the characters they are portraying.

An improviser’s own body will provide them with vast amounts of observable starting points for a character. Once noticed, slight variations in posture can be exaggerated into, for example, lips pursed together tightly, a chin thrust forward, or shuffling feet – any of which can provide the foundation for a character. A hip swung wide to one side may create a cocky swagger, which in turn informs the improviser that this character is an authority figure, a sheriff in a small town.

Again, there’s not a right way or a wrong way to extrapolate ideas, but it is always easier and better for the performance if these ideas are based on something real. In this case, every time this character moves, the hip swings wide, because it’s become one of the rules of the game. If that rule is broken, it means the character and the whole story has fundamentally changed. In this same way a character may be based on a person’s subtle emotional state, proximity to other improvisers, or any happy accident the performer is lucky enough to observe.

The same idea applies to other aspects of the story. Anything could potentially be a rule of the game. Perhaps a character is angry about the results of a boxing match; then everything that character sees or hears only makes his anger worse. Perhaps in this scene there’s always leftover egg salad, or every handshake is held slightly too long, or all children need extensive dental work. These rules get established early, and the rest of the scene is spent playing the game according to those rules.

In improvised performance there is no time to stand back and gather these kinds of observations. The process of observing rules and implementing them must be nearly instantaneous. Additionally, improvisers must be able to take in what’s going on around them even as they are performing.

One exercise used in rehearsal to strengthen this skill involves two improvisers simultaneously talking to each other about any given topic. As they talk, they are also trying to retain the details of the story they’re being told. It is a simple-sounding task, but shockingly difficult.