I've always been interested in comedy, and at some point I decided to audition for The Groundlings Improv School. For those of you who aren't familiar, The Groundlings is an improv and sketch comedy theatre and school, that was founded by Gary Austin in 1974, and has been known to "output" some incredibly hilarious comedy and improv actors, including my former boss, Lisa Kudrow, and my friend Jennifer Coolidge. Personally, I wasn't as interested in the performing part as I was in the writing part, but in order to get into the Writing Lab, you have to take the other classes first and be approved to move up.
I was the only non-actor in every class I took at The Groundlings, and for me, I think it was one of the things that made me somewhat successful, meaning, I didn't have to review a level but was moved up after one try. I had no big dreams making it into the main company or getting to audition for SNL, so I had a pretty good, unattached attitude about the whole thing. I didn't mind going first for anything, a warm-up game, improv, or a sketch, so I found myself always jumping up when I heard the teacher say, "Ok, two people up."
In each class there was a mix of writing & performing sketches, and learning improv. While I found myself at home with the writing, I learned quickly that there is nothing easy about improv. It takes a lot of brain power, and then the ability to disconnect that brain power. You can't plan ahead, try to be funny, or have an agenda. You have to go up and be like a blank canvas, completely open to create something with someone else without thinking.
And in that moment, when you're up there and you say something in response to what your partner just said or asked, you hope that there is a different voice or accent coming out of your mouth, and a tic or a weird gesture spontaneously shooting out of your body, creating a character different from you. When it works, there is nothing more rewarding and fun. When it doesn't work, it's like dying the slowest death I have ever experienced.
I had some amazing teachers at The Groundlings, my favorite being the tall and super talented Roy Jenkins. Creative, extremely brilliant in long-form improv, firm but genuinely supportive as a teacher. If you have never been to The Groundlings, or even if you have, head over to the "Crazy Uncle Joe Show" on Thursdays at 8pm. Roy will blow your mind.
After I finished my first year at the AFI, I got a call from the Groundlings that there was an open spot in the summer session Writing Lab, which always has a long wait list. It had been a couple of years since I had taken classes there, but I decided to jump in and was extremely happy I did. Not only did I make some incredible and funny friends, like Karen Forman, Keri Safran and Brandon Econ, but I found myself under the tutelage of Kevin Kirkpatrick, who is like an improv comedy Nazi. If you want to get your ass kicked and learn something valuable at the same time, Kevin's your guy.
I don't know if it was a reflection of Kevin's edge, my being in the midst of a divorce, or the company I kept in class, but everything I pitched seemed to have a creepy old lady or a whore angle. Or both, as in the sketch Karen and I wrote, with the two retired prostitutes who went to Wells Fargo to apply for a small business loan, so they could open a retirement home for ladies like themselves.
Charlotte & Francine, two semi-retired prostitutes
The Writing Lab was an incredible experience and I learned a lot. You write one or two sketches each week, with a new partner each time, perform it in class and then either get told to drop it or keep working on it. It was like a sketch comedy writing factory, and at the end you emerge with one sketch and one monologue, which you perform on the main stage, in costume and with props, for a live audience.
All the monologues were written in first person, so you'd get up on stage and do your monologue as if you were talking to someone, but you were really just talking to the audience. My character was a pathetic love sick secretary at a law firm, who shows up at one of the partners' house, a partner she is madly in love with. There is a party in full swing, one that she hasn't been invited to, and she keeps on leaning in, commenting on the passed hors d'ovres and the guests, whom she knows from the office, without actually ever being invited in. Quite sad.
The most interesting thing about performing my monologue (and subsequent sketch) was that I had never imagined being interrupted by laughter, so I wasn't ready for it. If I had thought about it for even a minute, I probably would have realized that people might laugh at this, because it's funny. So the laughter threw me off, and there was also some anxiety, but I got to the end without fainting or peeing my pants. Victory for me.
Keri looks so ghastly in the scene below that I felt like I should show her true beauty...
The sketch I performed was with Keri Safran and we did many, many re-writes until we were happy with it. On the day of the performance, I remember pulling Keri aside beforehand and telling her "remember I'm not an actor, so I may forget or flub lines or not say anything at all. If that happens, please fix it somehow." I remember her pulling me aside a minute later, telling me to stop drinking the prop wine, because if I continued drinking it, I would definitely be flubbing my lines.
The sketch went over really well, and I found it was much more fun to do a scene with someone, as opposed to the solo monologue. While my experience at The Groundlings taught me how to write funny fast, it also reaffirmed that I'm not a born performer by any means. I love participating in the occasional sketch or bit, but I could never dedicate my life to it. Kudos and props to those of you who do.
After the Writing Lab was over and I went back to the AFI for my second year, I was invited to join the Improv Class at the AFI, which was for Directors only, (and I guess me) and was taught by none other than Groundling goddess Karen Muruyama. With Karen I returned to what fascinated me so about improv when I first started with Roy all those years ago. The brain let-go and the exhilaration of not knowing what comes next. Which for those of you who know me, is something I struggle with, but also always enjoy the opportunity to confront.
And now, without further ado, please enjoy Keri Safran and myself, as Marge and Cheryl in "Happy Hour," named after the special time these two ladies, one librarian and one teacher, spend together after work, drowning their sorrows in the library stacks. My First Groundlings Performance.
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