The Fringe starts here: This week at The London Improv Comedy Club

Rachel Parris (left) and Max Dowler (not left)
8pm, Wednesday, at The Miller

Oh baby, it's good to see you. How we've missed your pleasant face and groovy demeanour.


It's a veritable throng of talent this week at the London Improv Comedy Club. 


As we count down to the Edinburgh Fringe festival we have 3 (three) Edfringe preview shows this week (THREE). Sneak previews of shows just for you before they are unleashed on the world. 


Including internet stars The RH Experience, TV gold from Do Not Adjust Your Stage, and award winning comedy from the brilliant Parris and Dowler. 


You asked for funny, we give you funny. 


There will be a spelling mistake in this mail-out. See if you can spot it with your pretty eagle-eyes:

TUESDAY 19TH JULY

THE RH EXPERIENCE

and DO NOT ADJUST YOUR STAGE

Those ultra-trendy boys from the RH Experience whip out their chunky comedy-mushrooms. They're YouTube stars by day, but Tuesday evening sees their all-too-rare live show dropping it's fun bombs.

Special guests for this show include Edgar "Hoopla-hoodie" Fernando and London Improv's Jonathan Monkhouse.

The RH will be followed by the very excellent Do Not Adjust Your Stage. If your television grew ten legs and stood up on a stage with two microphones and a guitar, then shot a rifle through a coconut and into the cast of Eastenders... well, it wouldn't look anything like the DNAYS show. But it'd smell similar. 

It's an improvised television schedule. Mmmm... schedule.

WHEN: 8pm, Tuesday 19th July

COST: £5 on the door

WHERE: The Miller, 96 Snowsfields Road, London, SE1 3SS

WEDNESDAY 20TH JULY

PARRIS AND DOWLER: KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING

and YOUR GIRLFRIEND

Another Edinburgh Preview for multi-talented comics Rachel Parris (Top 10 Comics to Watch 2012) and Max Dowler (Leicester Square New Comedian finalist) as they do stand-up, impressions, sketch und song.

"Definitely recommend them to anyone" 

- Three Weeks

Plus, they're both very good looking and smell like a summer day.

Followed by the inordinately brilliantly named Your Girlfriend.. comedy excellence in a jam-jar, featuring the likes of Charlotte Gittins, Briony Redman, Paul Foxcroft... and all the others who come.

WHEN: 8pm, Wednesday 20th July

COST: £5 on the door

WHERE: The Miller, 96 Snowsfields Road, London, SE1 3SS

Okay, eagle. See you there. In the meantime, listen to some good words and breathe in the air of mystery.

See you soon!

London Improv

x

LONDONIMPROV: A REVOLUTION IN COMEDY & THEATRE

Sign up to email updates at LondonImprov@gmail.com

Baby Wants Candy - A Competition

London Improv have a pair of tickets for each evening performance of Baby Wants Candy, 7-10th September 2011 at the Leicester Square Theatre for you to win.

Simply send an email with the subject line "London Improv Competition" to bwclondon@gmail.com - include the night you wish to go and your suggestion for a title of a musical Baby Wants Candy could perform.
We’ll let you know after the weekend if you’ve won. Otherwise buy your tickets at BWC Tickets.

Don't know much about Baby Wants Candy? Read this for a bit and you'll have an idea of how cool they are:
"It was the summer of 2001 and I was at the Edinburgh Festival for the first time in my life. Stepping out onto the Royal Mile it felt almost instantly like I’d come home. We have a lot of knife throwers and annoying student clown acts in my family.
And we all drink heavily.

I was operating sound for my student Musical Theatre Society’s production of The Mystery of Edwin Drood and without the burden of performing and all its attendant nerve jangles, I found I had time to see a lot of shows. Originally, I had intended to see different productions each day but that was before I went, on a whim, to see Baby Wants Candy: The Improvised Musical. One hour of jaw-dropping, gut-busting, mind-blowing theatre later and I was hooked for the rest of the run.

Because they made it up.

Every night, every performance, an entire one hour musical spawned from a single audience title suggestion. Unbelievable. I had never seen anything like it. This mad, talented bunch of improvisors seemed superhuman to me on almost every level. The precision of their comedy timing, the beauty of their harmonies, the deft sweep of their narrative. Every night I wondered if this was the performance where it was all going to fail in a spectacular heap of broken melodies and loose plot ends. Every night they seemed to reach greater heights. It made Whose Line is it Anyway? look like a playground game.

I wanted to do what they did. I wanted to be them.

But this was 2001 and returning to London, inspired and evangelical about this new art form, I found no-one willing or able to help me build an improvisational nirvana in the heart of our nation’s capital. Perhaps they were there, the fledgling UK Impro community, but there was no way for us to find each other. The internet was a baby too, it lacked sophistication. It was basically just the US Military complex and Hamster Dance (link: http://www.webhamster.com/).

Ten years later, I feel part of a supportive community of UK improvisors of immense talent and ambition. I’ve spent years perfecting my Yes ands... & Who, What, Wheres?, my edits, walk ons & follow mes. I’ve seen shows of breath-taking skill and courage, amazing evenings full of laughter and daring. But for me, still, there’s nothing like Baby Wants Candy. There are acts who approach their musical dexterity and others who are arguably as funny, still others who are able to marshal character and plot with the same aplomb. But all together at the same time? While giving you sweets? No, siree, Bob.

There isn’t another act like them. The catalyst for my whole mad, brilliant impro odyssey. They are an institution and an inspiration and every improvisor should see them at least once.

So I guess it’s lucky, on reflection, that they happen to be in town for 5 shows."

- Chris Mead

Parallelogramophonograph: Villainy

One of the disadvantages as an improv group being reviewed on a single show is that the reviewer might not get you on your best performance. That's true of any theatre, but more so in improv because of the infinite range of possibilities that could happen on stage. Even the best improvisers in the world still have the constant threat of a terrible show just around the next corner.

However, one of the joys of reviewing improv has just revealed itself to me. You can go back and see the same performers do a completely different show, and give it a whole new review. Well, that's probably not really best practice, but screw it, I make my own rules.

I went back to see the wonderful Parallelogramophonograph again, as I loved their show the first time. Look see, I gave them a 4-star review for their superb Grimm Fairy Tales show a short while back. I went back because they've been doing a series of different shows this Fringe and I wanted to see their "Villainy" format.

Awesome.

Right, firstly, these guys really are immensely likable on stage. It's hard not to be charmed by their demeanour when just chatting to the audience. The 'front-man', Roy, is warm and cuddly and looks like a big friendly puppet, and the rest of the group have friendly eyes and an infectious playfulness. This is in stark contrast to their Villainy show, where they "play for scares instead of laughs". The show I saw was based on an audience member offering a childhood memory of Santa creeping into the darkness of her bedroom on Christmas eve... great for a scarefest.

I must say, what followed was some of the most enjoyable long-form improv I've seen, ever. It was dark, hilarious and all set at the perfect pace. I love slow-burning stories that take their time to unravel, and this did exactly that. It also had a really sexy ending that left you with unanswered questions and a sense of edginess. It was exactly what I wanted. Rather than hastily resolving all the elements of the story in the the last few minutes, as many groups will mistakenly do, Pgraph perfectly judged it to leave you wanting more, exiting the room with your own ideas of where the story had went and would go. It sounds like bad storytelling not to tidy up all the threads, but I must reaffirm, they did this perfectly.

Because I've re-reviewed this, I'm giving myself permission to give them more stars. I'm not sorry. It was gorgeous. I live by no-one's rules but my own. Not even my own.

★★★★★

Parallelogramophonograph perform Improvised Plays from Austin, Texas at 'The Space On The Mile' (Venue 39) in Edinburgh, at 7.40pm, 5-27th August.

Why are most comedy groups white, middle class twenty/early thirty-somethings?

First off, are most comedy groups white, middle class twenty/early thirty-somethings? I haven’t done a formal scientific investigation, so this blog could be based entirely on something that isn’t true. But from my random observations and general feelings based on four years at the Edinburgh Fringe, it does seem to be the case.

What’s more worrying though is that nobody seems to be asking the question here or discussing the topic at all. Maybe it is being discussed behind the scenes in various organizations, but at the front line of performance and venues it doesn’t seem to be covered at all and there seems to be more of an every man for himself attitude and no real discussion on where performers actually come from.

Added to this it still appears in many TV circles that TV comedy is largely produced by Oxbridge graduates. Do you have to be educated in classics to be funny? Not in my opinion, especially when compared to the hilarity I’ve seen when running improvisation workshops in Balham secondary schools.

I believe there are other factors that influence the demographic of people performing at the Edinburgh Fringe, and most of them accidentally come out from the presumed open access nature of the Fringe. The Fringe is structured on being open access, so that anyone can take a show to the fringe – but can everyone really take a show to the fringe?

These are the basic requirements in taking a show to the fringe in a standard paid venue, and this is for quite a small group (us) with a small budget (ours):

£3000 guarantee to secure venue
£400 programme entry
£400 printing costs
£1500 accommodation
£400 equipment
£300 costumes

So that’s a bare minimum of £6000, and that doesn’t include living expenses. Most groups in paid venues probably spend more than this too. On the Free Fringe the guarantee payment is removed, but then again so is the chance of making any major money back.

For comedy groups to start making a proper impact and get noticed in Edinburgh they usually have to come back at least three years in a row, for example Pappy’s Fun Club, Delete The Banjax and The Penny Dreadfuls. But behind the scenes you’ll usually find that the performers had already been performing at the festival with other groups for a few years before their better known group took off.

So that’s probably about five years of sourcing £6000 to make a serious impact on Edinburgh and the comedy industry. But in reality the costs each year actually go up, as groups tend to rise up to higher profile venues and bigger rooms.

Also remember the Edinburgh Fringe takes place over the whole month of August, so you need that time off any work and family commitments. If you’re doing a proper job you’re probably also going to need a few weeks off before, and most people are pretty dead to the world for a week after.

So to summarise the following is needed to launch a successful comedy group on the Fringe:
1. At least £6000 a year.
2. At least a month off from work and other major commitments.
3. Repeat for at least five years with no other ‘life things’ getting in the way.

I believe these requirements already cancel out huge sections of the population from doing the fringe. People who have £6000 outright to spend might tend to also be in ‘proper jobs’ that don’t allow the time off required, whereas those with easy time off might be in a life situations where it’s harder or riskier to find the money. Older people may have families that makes it harder to justify the repeated time away. Younger people just don’t yet have the money or organization skills to get a group there.

So it’s already self-selected a small fraction of the population. When you then multiply this over the repeat years needed you can see why a tiny percentage of “fringe types” remain.

In addition to this is the peer group effect. When I went the first time I came back home and reported to all my friends about it, and low and behold four years later they are all here with shows. This seems to be repeated for most people here, as they originally heard about it and were inspired to do it when someone from within their peer group took a show here.

There may be Edinburgh Fringe outreach programmes going on, I really hope there are as I think they are really needed. Otherwise it’s just like one internal slap on the back fest.

Also there seem to be large comedy organizations (BBC, Avalon, Comedy Central, Channel 4 etc etc) that have huge amounts of money and could make a massive difference to grass routes comedy but don’t. They seem to support the fringe by showcasing the best new talent, or supporting competitions, or swiping off the annual award winners into fame and fortune. But they seem to target people who have already gone through the five year cycle, so the self-selection process has already taken place.

Why aren’t the BBC sponsoring the Free Fringe? That’s the real grass routes here, that’s where the help is really needed. Why aren’t Channel 4 covering the fringe programme costs of new acts?

I was at the Edinburgh International Television Festival last year, which occurs over the last weekend of the Edinburgh Fringe. The general attitude of many producers I met there seemed to be looking at who had won awards at the end, going to see them, and then maybe arranging a meeting. This is so lazy it makes me feel physically sick. Again the self-selection process of who can afford the time and money to do the fringe for five years has already happened, and they can swoop in like vultures at the end of this process claiming they ‘discovered new talent’. Idiots.

So the closest we’ve got to any kind of open access point to the Edinburgh Fringe is the fantastic Free Fringe, with Peter Buckley-Hill genuinely caring about new performers and doing an amazing job of keeping the fringe alive. Without him the cycle would break down.

How does the fringe as a whole treat this amazing gift of a Free Fringe? Terribly.

Last week there was a horrendous mail out from Three Weeks, one of the largest reviewers at the fringe. They seemed to have taken it upon themselves to spend an entire issue slating off the Free Fringe, with one star reviews for multiple acts. Furthermore the writing was far from objective, with idiotic reviewers gleefully insulting acts personally just to prove how jolly clever their writing was. Even worse was that simultaneously some of the higher profile groups seem to have such great press people that their reviews now read like a verbatim copy of their press release.

The message to new acts was clear: DON’T BOTHER, WE DON’T WANT YOU.

But we do want you, and more than that, we need you. Without these new acts trying new things the fringe will freeze up and die and just become a massive orgy of men who have been on Live at the Apollo or Mock the Week.

Why are the reviewers even marking new acts on the same scale as groups who are professionally managed with over a decade of experience? By all means point out the great things on the Free Fringe (Cariad Lloyd, Phil Kaye, Four Screws Loose etc) but why on Earth bother to kill off everything else from this amazing melting pot?

Reviewers don’t do that for TV.  They should. “X factor. Shit bog standard talent show of people that can’t sing. 1 star.” Three Weeks. I don’t understand why hours of awful TV manages to avoid being reviewed at all while a group of sixth formers missing a beat in sketch show on the free fringe results in such a barrage of poison pen reviews.

The Free Fringe is more creative than the entire Edinburgh Television Festival. In the Free Fringe there is no money and yet every year there is a never ending world of imaginative new ideas and life. At the Edinburgh Television Festival there was loads of money flying around, men in suits drinking free champagne in the museum, and multiple lectures on creative strategy. Over the same year the entire multi-million television industry seemed to spawn Geordie Shore, Made in Essex, and Made in Chelsea. Well done TV.

On top of all this in The Scotsman recently there was an article that seemed to suggest that The Free Fringe would be the death of the Edinburgh Fringe. What??? It’s the only thing that’s keeping it alive long term. This is because the Free Fringe’s Peter Buckley-Hill suggests a sliding scale for the programme entry, which I think is a fantastic idea.

At the moment all groups/shows pay the same amount to be in the Edinburgh Fringe programme. So if you are a multi-millionaire Mock the Week comedian, with a full production team behind you, performing to 500 people every night at 20 quid a pop OR a new to the fringe performer with a free show in a small room behind the pub – you pay the same to be in the programme. Seems fair? No!

So many Free Fringe people, and others, are suggesting that maybe the people performing in bigger venues with more money should pay more to the infrastructure of the fringe than the people playing in smaller venues with no money.

This is such an obviously good idea to me that I can’t believe it’s not the case already.

Yet it appears to be blocked by everyone. One of the major arguments seems to be “It’s only 400 quid or whatever, it’s such a small amount and it’s good value.” Which is quite frankly pathetic. Of course it’s a small amount to the huge acts, that’s the whole point. But to the 17 year old doing comedy for the first time in drafty church hall in Balham, it could be the deciding factor between going to the fringe or not, and unfortunately at the moment the answer is “not”.

So all in all, yes the Fringe is open access, but hidden rules and patterns pop up that make it anything but. When we have a chance to attack these factors head on, we should be open to change. Listen to Peter Buckley-Hill.

- by Steve Roe, blogging for WhatsOnStage.com

Improsium 2, at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival

Hello Fellow Improvisers!

We'd like to invite you to this years Improv Symposium - "Improsium 2!"

Last year (2010) the Improv Symposium brought together over 70 representatives from around 30 improv companies, from around the world. The event was hosted by The Maydays and the panel was made up of Dylan Emery (Showstopper!/Grand Theft Impro/School of Night), Katy Schutte (The Maydays/Katy & Rach), Tom Livingstone (Noise Next Door) and Mike McShane (Whose Line is it Anyway?/Paul Merton's Impro Chums).
It was so much fun that this year we're doing it again and we'd love you to join us.

Improv Symposium
Wednesday 24th August 2011 - FREE
10:45am - 12:00pm
White Belly
Underbelly
Cowgate

Calling all improv companies at the Edinburgh Fringe...

There is more improv at the fringe than ever before. We're very excited about that, so we thought we'd get everyone together for a panel discussion/networking event, followed by a bit of a social. There will also be a photocall at 12:00pm

The panel will include representatives from Showstopper and The Maydays with more to be announced, to share their thoughts and answer questions on topics such as improv as a comedy career and how the entertainment industry views improv.

All members of improv teams performing in the festival (or indeed improvisers coming up to perform in the future) are welcome.

Please wear your performance kit as we'll do some photos and there may well also be a press photographer or two there as well.

If you want to get in touch or have any enquiries email us at maydays@themaydays.co.uk or call Heather on 07818290562
www.themaydays.co.uk

www.musicalimprovcomedy.co.uk

Improvised Plays from Austin, Texas

Firstly, Parallelogramophonograph is a brilliant name for a group. Good.

Secondly, what a really likable bunch of performers. Excellent.

Parallelogramophonograph are doing a variety of shows at the Fringe, swapping each day. They specialise in French Farce, 1950's Screwball comedy, and - on the night we saw - Grimm Fairy Tales. For this they had a pleasantly accessible, simple format where each improviser took turns to narrate a tale in the style of the Brothers Grimm. Beginning in a shack in a wood, a family of goatherders fill their evening by telling odd tales with mysterious morals, and the other characters act out the story. It's a bit like the shortform game "typewriter" but with a back story and setting for the writers.

I found them to be immensely likable people, and when you're selling an impro show that's a pretty good start. They were technically good and had a lovely mischief to their period piece; naming a character "Burger King" for example. The show was about as utilitarian as it's title. Improvised Plays from Austin, Texas provided an improvised play, with simplicity and playfulness that I will definitely pop back and see again. Very interested to see the 1950's screwball comedy, although that might be linked to my pin-curl fetish.

★★★★

Parallelogramophongraph perform Improvised Plays from Austin, Texas at 'The Space On The Mile' (Venue 39) in Edinburgh, at 7.40pm, 5-27th August.

Lady Cariad has Character

I'm going to be jumping on a massive bandwagon here as she's already been reviewed and recommended by The Guardian, Fringe Review and.. well let's face it, pretty much everyone in the world, but Cariad Lloyd is ace and her show should be seen by you. Yes, you.

Okay, maybe I'm slightly biased. I've already admitted I have a massive comedy horn for her. And if I'm going to be completely honest, I am doing the tech-stuff for her show and she's said that if her audiences are big enough she'll boost my £5 per show fee to £10... but please take that honesty into the next paragraph.

Cariad Lloyd is one of those rare performers, someone who has managed to become funny, skilled and in possession of a hyperbolically superb comedy muscle, but she's managed to do all that while still retaining a warmth and generosity in her performance that brings the whole audience along with her. Her show features a collection of characters from her own mind that are all engaging and amusing. They are all just the right amount of surreal, with just the right amount of darkness. My favourites are Andrew The 7 Year-Old Stand-Up and Jack Le Cock, the (largely shit) parkour expert. Cariad perfoms in a way that draws you ever further to the edge of your seat, so you don't miss a single one of the hundreds of tiny little jokes that hide in between the big ones. I've now seen the show 4 times, and I've still found new funny in each show. And I still have about 23 performances to go. That's a good thing. By the end I might have picked up on all of them.

We love Cariad as an improviser, and we love that her impro-brain has led her to other types of performance. And coming runner-up in the Funnys Funny female comedian of the year a couple of weeks ago lends credibility to my gushing. For which I'm not sorry.

★★★★★

Cariad performs Lady Cariad's Characters at The Voodoo Rooms in Edinburgh, at 3.55pm as part of the Free Fringe. So the show is free. And it's worth a hundred times that.
Come along. I highly recommend it. And there's a ten pound note with my name on it.

Dr. Music Box's Prevention of the Edinburgh Lurgy

Hello, Dr. Music Box here. At previous Edinburgh festivals I have rapidly fallen victim to Edinburgh lurgy.

Symptoms

Symptoms of Edinburgh lurgy include:

- Sleeping all day for no reason.
- Turning a pale green/grey colour.
- Sheltering under a duvet like an introverted snail and only coming out to perform. If the first words you say each day are actually on stage to an audience, you’re in trouble.
- Shouting to yourself the second you leave the flat “why does it rain only when I’m outside?” and taking the weather really personally.

Causes

Causes of Edinburgh lurgy include:

- Sharing 3 bedrooms with 10 people.
- Putting on shoes in the morning that haven’t dried out from the night before
- Flyering in the constant rain while maintaining a positive attitude,
- Calling 3am an early night.
- Ongoing jealousy of other people’s show (“They’ve got a set?? How come we don’t have a set?” How many people did you get in your audience?” etc)
- Obsessive checking of facebook and twitter for #edfringe news. This includes late at night while surrounded by snoozing members of the cast.
- Surviving on nothing but rain and mist all day and then overloading on beer in plastic cups and late night takeaway vendors in the evening.

Prevention

This year my previous Edinburgh experience has kicked in and yesterday I made various attempts to prevent the Edinburgh lurgy. These included:

- Walking up Arthur’s Seat straight after the show. Wooo, like, we’re totally looking down on Edinburgh man, like, totally getting some perspective.
- Deliberately eating in a chain pizza restaurant away from the Royal Mile surrounded like normal people.
- Dressing like a tourist when I’m not flyering or performing.
- Experiencing sunshine for the first Edinburgh in ages. Yep, this happened yesterday and it was awesome. I actually have a suntan.

In fact everything about yesterday was pepping me up. We had a full audience, which was an amazing experience, and had improvised a really cool show set in a graveyard featuring various ghosts and 1500 year old gravediggers and the song “it looks like a human, smells like a human, but it’s actually a demon”. So we’re now entering the show in high spirits and having fun.

Other Random Edinburgh Observations

Whose poster can you flyer over?

All manner of un-written rules about this. It’s widely agreed that it’s open season on the Royal Mile pillars, and you can poster over stuff, but that’s the only place you can do so. But even then I’ve discovered various sub-clauses when it comes to putting posters up there. These include:

1a.i: Not postering over a friend’s show, obvious really.
1a.ii: Not postering over a show you’ve seen and enjoyed.
1a.iii: Not postering over someone you’ve met in person. This had the weird effect of me meeting someone at a promo show and immediately thinking “dammit, I can’t poster over their show now”.
1b: If someone posters over your poster then all of the above are null and void, and you are allowed to hold a postering grudge for the rest of the festival.
1c: If someone is more organized than you, with multiple posters attached together and a taller ladder, then they are a valid target.

Most Popular Phone Conversation in Edinburgh

“Hello. Where are you?”
“I’m on the Royal Mile.”
“Come over to C Venues.”

Second Most Popular Phone Conversation in Edinburgh

“Hello. Where are you?”
“I’m at C Venues.”
“Come over to the Royal Mile.”

Exciting stuff.

- by Steve Roe, blogging for WhatsOnStage.com

1st Music Box Show In Edinburgh

Hurrah!

First show done, first flyering done, first pint had.

This feels soooo good and has released a feel-good sense of adventure within me where I just want to make more cool things happen. More good news is that the first show had an audience! I was fully prepared to perform to one man and his dog, but in the end there were a lot more than one man, and no dogs.

We made up Lather the musical based on an audience suggestion of a car wash and featuring the song "Couldn't Fit Quicker than a Kwik Fit Fitter". I played a rich banker who had a love of red Fiat Puntos and the girl who worked in the car wash. For some reason I changed from American to posh British to myself to underdog throughout the musical, so a bit of character work needed, but other than that thought it was a fun musical.

Such a relief to get it done too, and the first show nerves are evaporated.

Also it was a hurdle getting over flyering. I don't usually enjoy flyering but I found the Edinburgh people were lovely and actually up for me chatting about the show. They also found it funny that I was pictured on the flyer.

The C venues staff are really top notch - professional, friendly, switched on and are adding loads to the show.

So really happy overall for a great first day. Going out to a C venues party this evening, and then more of the same tomorrow.

Jon says: "Remember it's not how many laughs you get, it's how many girls you've got in your Cadillac."

Thanks for that Jon, that's really helpful.

- by Steve Roe, blogging for WhatsOnStage.com

Edinburgh To-Do No.456: Be in a good mood.

There was a flurry of Music Box social activity before leaving London. On Friday night I found myself at a BBQ where everyone there was about to be in a show before Edinburgh. Everything was noticeably “before Edinburgh” over the weekend. I’m eating a burger, before Edinburgh. I’m sitting on the tube, before Edinburgh. This is the last time I’ll be in Morden, before Edinburgh. Morden, I’ll miss you.

We also did our last pre-Edinburgh show, at London Zoo, which went down really well and so put us all in great spirits. This was followed by our last pre-Edinburgh rehearsal at The Miller, where everyone had the same idea and brought along loads of cookies, cake and sweets. This also went really well so morale is at a high at just the right time, which makes me feel really happy.

I also got to the point on Sunday where I’d finally done all the pre-Edinburgh admin I could possibly do, and was staring at a ticked to-do list for once in my life.

My first thought was, what shall I do now? The answer I decided was to chill out, and have fun. Whatever the aims of the show are, the best thing to do right now is to chill out and have fun. Afterall there’s nothing worse than being in a comedy group that’s getting stressed and staring at each other wide eyed saying “WE HAVE TO MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH, NOW!”

Similarly nobody wants to be flyered by someone who looks sick and stressed. It’s not the face of someone who is going to make you laugh and feel good about life.

So whatever I do now, being in good spirits is the main priority. I’ve been diligently organizing myself into a good mood. First step was a run in the park. When I’m running I always pretend I’m an escaped prisoner of war and I’m running away from Nazis. It makes it more exciting. I haven’t admitted that to anyone before! I’m 32.

This good mood was rapidly escalated by finally getting the train to Edinburgh this morning. That’s right, I’m in Edinburgh now! The whole of Twitter is overflowing with people tweeting “I’m in Edinburgh, woooooo!” and I’m one of them. That’s right, I’m a massive Edinburgh cliché, and I’m proud of it!

I arrived off the train and immediately walked into C Venues to meet everyone. Was amazed how professional and friendly and efficient everyone was. Amazing stuff, I feel really confident in the venue team. This was rapidly followed by a similar series of really helpful and friendly meetings at Fringe Central Office. I had probably the most productive day I’ve had all year and things that I thought would take all day just took a couple of hours.

Which left me the rest of the day to hang out with Becca, our director, and be really silly. We spent the evening walking up to the top of Carlton Hill where we occupied ourselves by singing random songs about the Edinburgh view below while eating Muller Rice. These included a punk number along the lines of “Pleasance Courtyard, didn’t want us, we don’t care” and dirty little number about a phallic shaped Chinese lantern falling from the sky. It was incredibly childish, and did wonders for chilling us out.

So I might have remembered, just in the nick of time, that if you’re doing comedy you can’t take things too seriously. Edinburgh, wooooooo!

- by Steve Roe, blogging for WhatsOnStage.com

Not exactly a holiday

That's it. London Improv is truly on a break from doing London-based shows (for about 6 weeks).

Music Box had their last London outing last night, at their regular summer gig as part of the Zoo Lates at London Zoo. That was fun. The impro-gods were smiling down on us and provided us with the best audience of the entire run; about 80 people standing in the London Zoo aquarium, watching us dick about for 15 minutes. We'd found that people who had paid for penguins and meerkats weren't hugely enamoured by a 15-minute version of our musical, so we've been doing more short-form stuff and it's been going down really well. They much preferred monkey-gags to musical character journeys. Gibbon-knobs.

Speaking of short-form, the Great Big Send-Off was a blast. About 30 improvisers ended up being in the show, all adding their own little bit of brilliance, all playing together in a supportive and friendly way. Everyone was in high spirits and there to have a really good time. Which we all did. The main thing I was worried about was anyone who came who wasn't an improviser, that all they would experience would be a big cliquey in-joke that they couldn't be a part of.

Not so, it turned out. I was constantly keeping an eye out, and saw them laughing a lot. When in a game of 185, a call-out ended up being "185 improvisers walk into a bar..." they seemed to appreciate that I made reference to how geeky most of the jokes were:

"185 improvisers all walk into a bar at the same time, and Keith Johnstone shouts NO BLOCKING"
"185 improvisers walk into a bar, and one says "hey Dave" and other says "Hey Mike" and then they establish that they're in a pub, before working out what to do next before some sort of platform shift upsets it."
"185 improvisers walk into a bar and alienate everyone else in the room."

I chatted to some of the non-improvisers afterwards and they said they wanted us to go on for another hour, so that's a pretty good sign.

So this season is over now. Over with audience wanting more, which is very pleasing. They will get it, we will be back on the 13th September with an even more exciting line-up of improv, comedy and more. Until then, it's all about Edinburgh and the biggest arts festival in the world. I will be up there with Music Box (get your tickets quick, they're selling!!), and running tech for the fabulous Cariad Lloyd (FREE GIG... come!). In my spare time, I will be on the hunt for new acts for the London Improv comedy nights at The Miller, and if that all doesn't take my life I hope to be providing you with reviews of as many EdFringe impro shows as possible.

Tasks.

In the meantime, I should be washing some clothes and generally having a bit of a think about what I take to Edinburgh in three days time. Three days time. Three days time. Three days time. Three days time. Gulp.

Hope to see you there, as long as I'm not crying.

Kiss!
- Jonathan Monkhouse, editor.

Aaaaaahhh! Edinburgh!

There it is, beating away on the horizon. This time next week I would have done three Edinburgh shows already. In the build up my mood constantly changes from terror to complacency to excitement to nerves to just stupid giggling, all in the time it takes me to finish my cornflakes.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is all entirely self-inflicted. I don’t have to do this, nobody tells you to take shows to Edinburgh, which is why it’s beautiful, and incredibly personal.

It’s strange being producer and performer; you have to have split personalities and keep trying to sell the show even when you really feel like wrapping yourself in a duvet and being a hermit for a few days.

For instance I’ve spent the last couple of days putting together a promoter pack about the show, which is all the technical, cast and show information a possible promoter/booker would need to book the show after Edinburgh for performances and tours etc.
In the eyes of a performer most promoters are mysterious people that hang around bars like ninjas of the night. They don’t seem to have names, and nobody seems to know who they are, only that ‘some promoters are floating about’. It’s not even clear what they’re actually promoting. I wonder if they even exist.

I might turn up in Edinburgh wearing a sheepskin jacket with a big sign above my head saying “I am a promoter”. Perhaps they are shy creatures, like the wild haggis that live on Arthur’s seat.

We’ve also been sending our flyers and posters to print. One of our cast, Jonathan Monkhouse, has done an amazing job on the design so I’m really happy about that.

I’ve also been allocating lots of random odd jobs by text like “can you buy a step ladder/make a sandwich board please?” I feel like I’ve become the Mr. Boring of the group who sends people a trickle of dull shopping lists. As one of the cast is also my girlfriend I have developed the persona of Formal Steve so we don’t get these roles muddled up.

These odd jobs include buying things in London as if Edinburgh doesn’t have any shops. I found myself thinking ‘better get some razor blades before I go’, as if nobody in Scotland shaves. I’m sure they have a Boots, BUT WHAT IF THEY DON’T???? The horror.

The cast also had a pre-Edinburgh discussion that revolved around what they thought they would be like to live with. Turns out half the cast are early risers, half the cast are night owls, and Jonathan doesn’t like it if someone is in the toilet too long in the morning.

Other jobs this week have included sending out a second wave of press releases. The first batch were done at the time of the programme release so I was hoping this batch were going to have a new angle, or some piece of news. Actually this didn’t happen, so in the end reading between the lines of our second batch of press releases they basically said “Errrr, hello, me again, remember me? Ha ha ha, aren’t we such good friends! Remember me? Anyway, nothing’s really changed, same show thing going on, if you fancy it.”

It’s a bit of a paradox writing to reviewers when you’re also one of the performers. My producer side of me knows I have to do it for the sake of the show and use reviews however I can to sell to tickets, whereas the performer side of me is like a frightened little slow loris that wants to hide underneath a table. A similar paradox happens with acting sometimes, where you want to act but don’t want to be seen, and a huge leap comes from opening yourself and making yourself available.

In previous Edinburgh shows I’ve had everything from 1 star to 5 star reviews for various shows I’ve been in. One show I was in got a 1 star and 4 star review from the same publication in the same week. This feels likes having your ego used as a football. Eventually what seems to happen in Edinburgh though is that the performer’s ego just takes a holiday, which is when the really interesting stuff happens.

I’ve been fanatically checking ticket sales. We’ve actually sold some in advance which we really weren’t expecting as we’re a new group, and it’s done wonders for our morale. Not loads, but some, and that feels good.

To chill out a bit George (girlfriend) and I went to see Wicked last night. Being readers of whatsonstage.com you’ve probably seen it about five times already, so I won’t have to tell you how amazing it was, although it was amazing. It did however make me realize that maybe I should change our flyer copy from “everything you could want from a musical” to “everything you could want from a musical, apart from a fire breathing dragon, flying monkeys, full orchestra and frightening talking wizard head”.

See you soon!

- by Steve Roe, blogging for WhatsOnStage.com

Agent Music Box Reporting For Duty

Hello!

I’m Steve Roe, producer of Music Box Improvised Musical. That’s my funny face staring back at you. Of all the headshots I’ve got, that’s the most normal looking! I had to go into comedy as my big head is unsuitable for any other style of acting. I once performed in an impro show with the mantra ‘natural natural natural’ only for someone to come up and say "wow I loved your massive cartoon characters, you pull such weird faces!", and I thought "no, that’s just my face".

I’m here to give you a behind the scenes look of our show building up to Edinburgh, then doing Edinburgh, and then after Edinburgh.

At first this will probably take the form of thinly disguised attempts to market my show at you while I attempt to write witty anecdotes about “flyering on the royal mile” or such Edinburgh things.

At some point though I’ll write a blog while drunk at 3am in the morning after spending the night dancing badly in C Venues. And then all hell will break loose, and I might actually be interesting to read. I predict this will happen on the fifth day of the first week, based on previous experiences.

Until that point, here’s some background and what I’ve been up to:

Taking an improvised musical to Edinburgh is quite a foolhardy endeavour, as there are already some well established improvised musicals in Edinburgh (Showstopper, Baby Wants Candy, No Shoes). We could have made a children’s version, or found a niche, or a unique selling point, but we thought we might as well just go about it in a headlong gung-ho fashion.

So instead we’re hoping to somehow subtly grow a reputation as the free-flowing young British upstarts, with different musical styles and character acting away from the normal musical theatre styles.

To assist this message I’ve recently been investigating and purchasing advertising. I came up with an advertising master plan, but when faced with the actual costs we’re now carrying out about 1% of this plan. I now feel like all I’ve done is stick two postage stamp sized music box logos on the internet, and an A4 piece of paper on a lamppost somewhere in Leith. In the future I’m instead going to save up to buy a big Music Box airship to fly around in.

I’m now looking at other ways to advertise for free or cheap. High impact low cost, blah blah blah blah, in fact it’s hard not to turn into some kind of late 1980s marketing yuppy. This included investigating out how illegal it would be to make a massive banner and hang it on the cliffs near Arthur’s Seat overlooking The Pleasance.

Other than that we’re putting the show together. Being improvised it’s not “rehearsed” as such, more practiced similarly to how a football team practices various skills so you’re ready to use them in a match. If anything we’re match fit, as we’ve been doing a huge amount of shows this year, in fact far more than is sane or normal. It’s more normal to just rehearse a show from scratch in the 1/2/3 weeks building up to Edinburgh. Instead we’ve been performing about 3 times a week for a year in the build up, and have actually had to take a rest in the 3 week build up to prevent madness. We’ll find out if this approach works.

At some point however I know I’ll be stood in front of an audience and reviewers, in Edinburgh, about to improvise a musical I know nothing about. At the moment that feels terrifying. Luckily our last London show last night at The Miller seemed to go down well, which has calmed my wildly fluctuating pre-Edinburgh moods.

We’ve also been sorting out lots of promo gigs. One of these has been the Virgin Money street stage. I initially wrote to them with a list of all our available dates, thinking I’d get some of them, and they wrote back offering us all of them. As impro is based on saying yes we’re now having to become street performers too, which we haven’t done before. I like the challenge of that though; if we’re no good the audience can just walk away. I find it fascinating how the venue and audience can alter the actual show, especially in improvisation.

Although the nervous butterflies are still there I’m now looking forward to Edinburgh. It’s where I got together with my lovely girlfriend two years ago, and we’re now going to be performing together, AND I get to stay up late with friends without having to worry about getting the Northern Line home. Talking of which I’m up for meeting new people at the Fringe so if you bump into me say ‘hello Steve, I liked your blog’, and we’ll have a drink, my round.

- by Steve Roe, blogging for WhatsOnStage.com

The Great Big Send-Off

This Wednesday is the last evening of London Improv at The Miller before we break up for the much awaited Edinburgh Fringe Festival (eek!). We want to go out on a big bang of fun, so that those who aren't getting to go to Edinburgh this year can have a last blast before the comedy circuit practically clears out. And for those who are going to Edinburgh, a chance to meet others that they might like to spend time with up North.

So, on Wednesday 27th July, London Improv will be hosting THE GREAT BIG SEND-OFF! [applause]

Now, the plan is simple: get as many improvisers on stage as possible over the course of the night. We will be running it as a short form, games-based show, but out of all the improvisers that come we will pick randomly for each game. There's a chance there could be something in the region of a million performers in a two-hour show.. which if we wanted to investigate; would probably be some sort of record. Actually, come to think of it, I might try and find Norris McWurter's phone number.

Anyway, if you wanna be in it, it's as simple as this short and informative work-flow procedure:

ARRIVE - GIVE ME YOUR NAME - SAY YOU WANT TO IMPROVISE TONIGHT - BE IN THE SHOW

There is no limit on ability: if you've been doing impro for as long as Alan Marriott, or you've done one workshop, or you just smelled an improv show once - YOU ARE WELCOME!
If you are an improv-musician, even better, bring your instrument along and we'll fit it right in.

It's a party (of sorts) so if you're performing, if you've given me your name, you get in free. Can't say fairer than that. Actually, I might change the workflow procedure (that's the thing with business-speak, meaningless):

ARRIVE - GIVE ME YOUR NAME - SAY YOU WANT TO IMPROVISE TONIGHT - GET IN FREE - BE IN THE SHOW

Awesome. Can't wait to see you on stage, you are wonderful.

Wednesday 27th July
Time: Doors 7:30pm, Show 8pm - 10pm with interval.
Cost: £5 on the door (unless you're in the show)
Where: The Miller, 96 Snowsfields Road, London Bridge, London, SE1 3SS.


If you would like email updates, send a message to LondonImprov@gmail.co.uk saying so.

Keeping it Real

Michael Brunström is very experienced in the ways of British Impro. He was originally introduced to it completely by chance when he bumped into his hero, the late, great Ken Campbell in the street. Since then he has worked on a multitude of projects, pushing the boundaries of what improvisation can achieve; from the often surreal "My Show, My Rules" to an improvised Greek Tragedy in a day. Most recently he has created the Curt Hatred shows and co-created Fingers On Buzzards, an Impro/pub quiz hybrid.

Some thoughts on improvisation and 'reality'.

UK improvisation, although small in scale and performed mainly by (over)enthusiastic young amateurs, is nonetheless rooted in hefty long-worn traditions. Put (over)simplistically, these are a) The Keith Johnstone 'shortform games' tradition, b) the Joseph Campbell arc-plot longform tradition and c) the North American Harold tradition. Yes, I know: there are plenty of others.

Every improviser has their preference. Arc-plot longform impro is thought by some to be too proscriptive and formulaic. Likewise, some longform improvisers tend to dismiss shortform impro as tending towards silly gags, or consider the physical and verbal restrictions imposed by some impro games as either pointlessly limiting or empty displays of virtuosity. (I once heard of a Canadian improviser complaining that Keith Johnstone had 'instituted the tyranny of games', which is a magnificent phrase, and if I were Keith Johnstone I would be proud of it.) In spite of the strong feelings that practitioners of each tradition have, there is far more common ground between them than they usually admit. Indeed, each of these approaches owes much to the other two, and they are ultimately inseparable. Yet without this diversity, the impro scene in the UK would stagnate and become uniform.

It is noticeable, however, that until recently the North American Harold has not gained much of a footing in the UK. I've seen several troupes try it out, but often without great enthusiasm or success. The one element of the Harold that UK improvisers find particularly difficult is the opening monologue. Both performers and audience members alike have told me they are uncomfortable with its 'confessional' feel.

We British are too anally retentive, too don't-make-eye-contact-on-the-bus, too cynical. We don't like to think of stage performers as normal people. We like glamour, artifice, character comedy and masks. We like our shows to begin with a fast-paced game or a big song-and-dance number. When performers get up to speak in their own voices, we get nervous. I've heard people complain that when improvisers talk about themselves it smacks of vanity, of navel-gazing, and that they're performing 'more for their benefit than for ours'. I've even heard it said that to use real-life experiences as the basis for scenes, rather than making it all up from nothing, is somehow 'cheating'.

This is wrong. Scenes that are rooted in reality work better. Not just sometimes, but all the time. That is why, when performing a Harold, the monologues have to be real and cannot be fictitious. The opening monologues aren't something that can be edited out of a Harold – they're absolutely crucial to it. There is an indefinable quality that comes from material that has been derived from specific real-life. Genuine experiences transformed through a lighthearted playful approach obey the formula 'Serious + silly = funny.'
Yet UK impro tends to shy away from this aspect of the Harold. I've seen 8-Bit perform their Harold monologues in a mixture of voices, partly their own and partly as characters. There seemed to be a reluctance to divulge anything too personal or revealing in them. When GTI did their 'Harold' in the second half of their show, they based their scenes on a collection of ideas thrown out from the audience rather than on their own experiences. When Harolds skimp on reality, no matter how skilled the improvisers are, there is a tendency towards 'Silly + silly = stupid.'

Not all UK troupes are afraid to use real experiences as a source of material. The Maydays have been particularly successful in adapting the Harold format to British sensibilities. Multistory used a multi-stranded longform format very similar to a Harold. Rather than narrate monologues, they got stories from the audience. Kevin Tomlinson does this too. The Couch use a similar approach for their shortform show, though with far less serious or reverent intent. Playback Theatre was popular here a few years back, too, though their shows were often criticized for being too like a therapy session. On the whole, though, we Brits don't like 'the Real'. In nearly every case, basing scenes explicitly on the personal experiences of the improvisers themselves has been seen as a step too far.
How, then, are UK improvisers to square this circle? How can they keep scenes vivid and real, without the off-puttingly confessional monologues? What does a 'British Harold' look like?

In the show I direct, 'Curt Hatred', I use traditional shortform games, rather than monologues, to generate the material that will be reincorporated in subsequent scenes. As a result, every show appears highly divorced from reality, with utterly absurd content. In order to counteract the accumulation of bonkers notions that have no basis in experience, I instruct the improvisers to treat everything with the utmost seriousness. By concentrating on the characters rather than the content, showing what's at stake for them, and setting them on an arc-plot journey, I encourage the audience to identify on an emotional level with the action on stage and making the action seem relevant and vital. By imbuing daft material with gravitas and importance, the aim is to recapture the formula 'Silly + serious = funny.' Employing elements from arc-plot longform – exploring internal conflicts, identifying archetypes, finding the 'bother' on which each scene hinges – could be one way, albeit an imperfect one, to ground an impro scene in reality. (Yet I should emphasize that my particular show has been largely a failure, as audience numbers have shrunk down to nothing.)

However, I want to draw attention to another approach, a completely different kind of 'reality' which I don't think has been adequately explored by improvisers: the reality of the show itself.

Communicating directly with the audience, literally making eye-contact with as many individuals as possible – without 'dipping', 'skipping', 'arcing' or 'glazing' – and sharing the scene with them, accentuates the reality of the show. It is a style of performance that gradually fell into redundancy with the introduction of footlights to theatres at the end of the eighteenth century, eventually leading to audiences sitting silently and reverently in near-total darkness, peering through an invisible fourth wall. (The invention of 'cinema' could be said to predate that of celluloid by at least a hundred years.)

Whereas some improvisers I've spoken to say they enjoy the theatricality of having an audience in darkness, creating an atmosphere of hushed expectation like you find at standup shows or music gigs, I always prefer shows where the audience are more involved with the performers – not necessarily by yelling stuff out throughout the evening, but by feeling close enough to the action to register its subtlest signals, establish a direct personal connection and build a shared experience. It makes the occasion more lively and vivid. And it encourages a style of performing that celebrates the challenge of spontaneity itself – the deeper game.

I can think of several improvisers – the majority of them women, incidentally – who are masters of connecting with an audience, moving effortlessly between the reality of the scene and the reality of the room, without blocking either. It's not about 'gagging', 'commentating' or 'popping out of the scene'; it's about sharing the scene with the back row. These performers have the miraculous skill of combining fearless honesty with irony and wit – and that's a very British approach. It's a skill that is central to clowning, but it is not often taught in an impro context. I would like to see more of this style of performance in impro. In addition to everything else that's going on.

Alan Marriott says that there are two ways of being, both on stage and in life. He calls these 'downward/inward' and 'upward/outward' intentions. As improvisers we need to cultivate our upward/outward intention in order to be receptive and responsive to the many offers we receive during a scene. These intentions can be found in audiences as well. British audiences are notoriously 'downward/inward', especially when they're when they're being lectured to and when they're watching standup comedy. They slouch and squint in their chairs, as prickly and antagonistic as urchins, with their arm crossed and their fists clenched. If improvisation has any social purpose it is to reach out to the cynical Brit. If improvisation can coax him towards the edge of his seat, make him feel relaxed and open him up to experience child-like playfulness and joy – by Harolds based on true-life experiences, by epic and engaging narratives, or by the sheer excitement of suddenly being aware of the here and now – then it has done a good job.

Fingers on Buzzards, the improvised pub-quiz is on at the Edinburgh Fringe.
When: 7:50pm, 6-27th August
Venue: Dragonfly
Cost: Totally free!

Improvised Musical Workshop

Music Box, The Improvised Musical are in their last few weeks before heading up to Edinburgh to launch themselves at the Scots. But before they go, they've got something secret to tell you: (whisper it) anyone can do musical improv.

Music Box are running a workshop this weekend, and there's still space if you want to come. They're offering an entire day of improvised musical workshop madness. This is going to be the most fun musical improv workshop ever with loads of the Music Box actors and musicians leading sessions on improvised singing, musical scenes, musical structures and improv musical shows.

It'll be a packed day and we guarantee that it will be filled with laughter and good spirits. And the best thing is: you don't even need to be good at singing.

£20. No need to book, just turn up on the day.
12-6pm, The Tavistock Room at The Bedford, Balham.

And just as little side-note, you'll be helping them raise funds for the Edinburgh run so you'll be held in high regard.

See you there!