she points out. “Don’t call your friend a Mexican!” he de- mands. “But she is Mexican,” she pushes back. “Not every Spanish person is a Mexican,” he responds. “No Spanish person is a Mexican,” she says, regaining the upper hand and lots of laughs. Without prepared sketches, the improv groups asked for
a word from the audience to get them started. The plot could go anywhere fast, as members followed generally accepted improv codes for taking turns in the spotlight, building the story, balancing the emotional role with a straight man, adding details, and painting a visual of the surround- ings through pantomime. On Satur- day night, This is Pathetic drew the word “seventeen,” Starla and Sons landed “castle,” and the Ad-Libs got “turkey.” “Improv is all about trust and instinct. You learn rules so
“GIGGLES, GUFFAWS, AND OTHER DELIGHTED NOISES, APPLAUSE, A ‘WOOT!’ OR TWO —NOT DISRUPTIVE, BUT AFFIRMING AND ALMOST COLLABORATIVE.”
you can stop thinking about rules and just be present,” Jur- ney explains. “Sketches have more structure; they’re architec- tural, with a premise and a rhythm. But they’re both crafts.” Pathetic’s Patrick Braley says, “I love getting on stage with literally nothing to go forward with, and still succeeding in making people laugh and telling an intelligent story. When I step on stage, everything else falls away—my own life, even the audience—and I can live there in that moment.”
So where did his trio take the word “seventeen”? They made it one angst-ridden guy’s 17th birthday, at which no one showed up to play in the Bouncy-Bounce except a cranky woman hoping to be more than a pal and a second guy seemingly happy to be a pal. In their long-form style of gradual unfolding, there were no scene changes or wild non- sequiturs, and there were lots of silences, which contributed a surprising intensity. In the end, the two guys found them- selves kissing—to huge cheers from the house.
The Ad-Libs’ segment could not have been more different. The eight team members took “turkey” all over the place in disparate rapid-fire bursts —from the in-laws’ holiday dinner, to a meat truck on the side of the road
(“We’re trying to sell cold cuts out of the back of our van— that’s the business model”), to an information economy (“If you want the daily special, you’re going to have to give up a little something—I would love gossip”), to a wacky ski resort, to a mother’s “special bathroom,” to a bobsled course (“If you want to be Serbia-Montenegro’s first Olympic gold medalist in bobsledding, you pick it u-u-up.”), all with plen- ty of physical action and movement. How could something so silly be so damn smart and cohesive and funny? And how could eight people generate it from scratch on the spot?
HOME TEAMS: SKIDMORE PERFORMERS FROM SEVERAL TROUPES GATHER AFTER A TRIUMPHANT COMFEST 2014.
16 SCOPE SPRING 2014
ERIC JENKS ’08
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