Wipe the Slate!

Recently, a friend of mine invited me into Chicago to see an improvisation show. We were going to the iO (ImprovOlympic) Theater, a well-known company among improv players that has pumped out big-name comedy stars such as Mike Myers and Tina Fey (iO Chicago Theater). My friend, Freddie, had been taking classes in their own Improv Intensive this summer (check out his blog, The Speed of Lux: LI @ IO, if you want to learn more about what goes on in class) and got free admission to their troupes’ shows. We were originally planning on seeing one of their resident troupes, Improv Shakes, an improv team completely devoted to using Shakespeare’s language in improvisation (sounds super cool, huh?), but unfortunately the night was completely sold out. So in the true fashion of improvisation, we had to make an impromptu change of plans. We bought tickets to the show playing downstairs: their signature piece, The Harold, featuring two resident teams that went by the names of “Henrietta Pussycat” and “Revolver”.

As we sat down in the intimate little bar room, Freddie quickly explained to me that The Harold is long-form improvisation. “Long form improv,” he said, “is what happens when a group of people join together to make something out of nothing for a long period of time. Sometimes long-form is a collection of scenes, sometimes it’s a single scene that goes on for a long time. Whatever shape it takes, long form improv is the product of our imaginations when we set them free.” This type of improvisation was born and bred in the iO Theater; created by Charna Halpern and Del Close, the two believed “that improv was capable of more than the short games and competition-style shows… a deeper, more robust form of improvisation based on trust and agreement” could be possible. What makes that any different from Who’s Line Is It Anyway?, you may wonder. I wondered as well, but I was able to see right away just how unique The Harold was.   

                The lights dimmed, and the first player came on stage. He shamelessly plugged the bar (a unique feature at iO Theater – drinks and a show!), introduced the troupe, took a suggestion of a noun (“CATFISH!” someone in the back yelled) and hilarity ensued. The team clustered together at the front of the stage, all observing an invisible catfish, and a team member spoke up. He began describing the beauty of the catfish as if we had just flipped to the nature channel on TV. When one of the members decided to venture his way into the catfish’s mouth, sexual innuendos started coming up in the scene: “Enter the space slowly, stroking its tentacles tenderly,” Our nature guide began, taking the cue from his partner’s action. The audience laughed at his suddenly seductive tone.

This must have triggered an idea in another member because a man in the back of the cluster suddenly stepped out of the group and walked in front of all his team members. It was as if he was wiping the slate clean – all the other members immediately took his cue and turned on the spot to stand at the back of the stage to begin the new story he had brewing in his mind – scene change! All of a sudden, we were watching a teenage boy in the “deep south” asking for permission from a thick-accented, sex-crazed mother (played by a male member of the team!) to date her daughter (played by another male member!).

The night went on in this specific fashion. Each “scene” arcing as any story would until something was said that triggered a new idea among the members. It was exciting to watch a scene unfold and try to guess what line of dialogue would give birth to a new idea and who would begin the next scene by wiping the slate clean again. In this way, each story was interwoven by the links in ideas – how else could they have started studying catfish and ended up raving about Dorito-flavored Taco Bell shells and building a time machine so they could sign the Declaration of Independence. The scenes continued until the whole team triggered enough ideas to circle them back to their nature channel cluster.

                This was a very unique form of improv, indeed! I could tell that these were professional improvers who studied their craft intensely – there was a method to their madness. Watching the team play, I could see that even though the dialogue was improvised they had definitely rehearsed the style and flow of the show. Stock actions were set (the wiping of the slate, for example) as an outline, a foundation, and the team built on this outline to create fresh and funny scenes. Without this outline, transforming little scenes into an eventual interlinking story would probably be near impossible, and transitions would definitely not be as tight and precise as they were. These people weren’t just playing a game, these people were actors. They took their cues from their scene partners, playing off each other’s dialogue to develop a story, giving the spotlight and taking the spotlight, creating characters, and saying “yes” when a team member wiped the slate, allowing a new scene to unfold. There was an arc. I could follow the rise in action, climax, and fall in action of the whole show. There was technique. I could pick out (recalling lessons from an old theatre class) standard “rules of comedy” – Comedy in 3s, the Snowball Effect, Repetition. And the cherry on top was that it was all highly entertaining and quite hilarious!

                The iO Theater is located on Clark Street in Chicago – right across the street from Wrigley Field – and there is something happening every night, so you will never be bored. A warning, however: the humor will be crass, and expletives and sexual innuendos will be dropped – not a show to bring the kids to. The night was geared towards 20- and 30-somethings (or 20- and 30-somethings at heart!), so if you’re looking for a good laugh, I wouldn’t pass it up. This company is definitely a must if you want to see improv at the top of its game!

Calling the Final Cue

           Since starting college, I’ve been asked countless times about my major, and every time, the conversation is the same:

           “Theatre,” I say.

           Then I get either a really excited and highly impressed “Aaahhh” – or a wary, trying-to-be-polite-but-obviously-disapproving “Ooooohh.”

           When I get the “Aaahhhs,” I usually have a wonderful conversation about my favorite art form. “Aaahhh” people know theatre – many have been or are currently involved in theatre themselves, so we can happily chat about our past experiences, our favorite shows, and swap our tricks of the trade which we’ve discovered.

But the “Oooers.” Yes, the “Oooers” always ask my favorite question: “So you like acting, then?”

            “Well, no actually. I do mainly backstage work. My passion is stage management.”

            And then I get the confused, “Oh?”

The “Oooers” have no idea what stage management is. They don’t even know the stage needs to be managed – there are the actors, the directors, and lights and music, and everything comes together seamlessly and invisibly when they see the play. They’re the ones that point up at the Phantom’s crashing chandelier and wonder, “How did they do that???” They’re completely awestruck that a fully functional chandelier could go soaring through the sky without causing mass destruction and copious injuries at the perfect moment – they don’t even realize that a person was sitting just Stage Right, whispering into a headset, orchestrating that perfect moment. They hear the word “management” and assume it’s a difficult and tedious job of filing papers and answering a phone. I try to explain the myriad tasks of a stage manager from first table read to closing night in five quick minutes, but most often my watered-down explanation, for the sake of time, never does justice to the joy I feel when I’m working a show. Stage management is difficult, yes, but far from tedious. Even before opening night, I am constantly running from the scene shop to the costume shop to the light booth to the rehearsal space to the stage talking to so many different people working on the show. In my position, I get to witness every single aspect of the show – I get to see the cogs and gears of the brilliant minds of the entire production whirl – from behind the scenes to center stage. It can get crazy, yes, but there is a reason why I put myself through the hard work and stress that can come with stage management: it all has a reward in the end. That reward for me is my favorite part of the position: calling the final cue.

There's something so exciting about calling the last cue of a show (So exciting, in fact, that I’m usually up, out of my seat when I do!). I’m in the booth, it’s right before the curtain falls, I prepare my board operators: “Stand By Light cue 70 and Sound cue 36.” They each respond: “Lights,” “Sound,” and their hands hover over their buttons. The final line of dialogue is said, and then… I call the cue: “Lights, sound, Go!” My waiting operators smash their respective buttons, and then the moment happens. The stage goes dark – either in an instant coupled with the perfect shell-shocking chord (BOOM!) or in a peaceful slow dim accompanied by a twinkling interlude to conclude a happily ever after (Aaw…).

Darkness… and for one breathless moment there is total silence from the audience, everyone taking in what they just experienced. They’re all speechless. The moment is real and raw as every person is suspended in this world for one more second before the lights come up again and applause erupts through the house. I made that moment. Without my call, that moment wouldn't be there. How and when I call the cue could change that moment completely - if you really think about it. Call a dramatic, instantaneous blackout a second earlier and the final, nail-biting line may be cut off completely, leaving the audience wondering what the heck Berenger thought of this cruel world filled with charging rhinoceroses (Eugene Ionesco’s The Rhinoceros); call a happily ever after any later and it could start getting awkward for Jack, Algernon, Gwendolen, and Cecily who only expect themselves to be lit for a brief moment before they can cease their happy mirth (Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest).

             My work for the night, in tandem with all those involved in the show, is wrapped up in shiny paper and a ribbon in that moment – the moment everyone waits for – the moment of suspension. And even if I run a show multiple nights, every last call is different, unique. Every performance I've done is special to me. I always run through each night in my head once the final cue is called – the successes and the flubs, the hurdles I jumped and the ones I went around – and no matter what, each is distinct in my mind. That uniqueness makes theatre magical. It may sound cheesy and cliché and you might say I’m just starry-eyed, but… theatre is magic. It’s a chance for us to be transported away from reality and into a different world – a world not far from our own, but far enough so that for a few hours the only important thing in our lives is witnessing the outcome of the lives we see on stage. It’s that coveted catharsis every theatre aficionado looks for; when a play can capture us so intensely that nothing else outside of that building matters, it is pure magic. That magic – that chance to escape from reality – is why theatre is a passion for me. Theatre is not just a hobby, not just a fun little activity I like to do on the weekends. Theatre is my life.

About Me

I don’t even know if I can remember a time when theatre didn’t exist in my life… I was the kid with the weird, artsy mom who had the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and the Best of ABBA blaring in the car (way before Mama Mia! existed), and Oklahoma! and Singing in the Rain playing on our TV – no soccer van for this mom!  My parents got divorced and my mom upped and moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and I only got my fix of “Go, go Joseph!” on the weekends and in the summertime. It was the summer after first grade when Mom signed me up for theatre camp. First Stage Theatre Academy in the heart of Milwaukee, where their motto is “Transforming Lives through Theatre.” My life was transformed, for sure! It was here my appreciation for the theatre blossomed. I learned about everything from musical ensemble numbers, to costume and set design, to playwriting, to acting in contemporary theatre, to the poetry of Shakespeare (yes, I was only 7-years-old when I first recited the Bard), to stage combat, to body language and voice inflection, to memorization, to improvisation. This place became my home away from home, and I returned to camp every summer until high school. Through First Stage, I knew I wanted to do theatre for my entire life.

                I acted with a children’s theatre in my hometown throughout elementary and middle school, but it was in my sophomore year of high school when I got bitten by the Techie bug. The first show I crewed for was Chekov’s A Cherry Orchard. The school’s technical director brought the set model in to my acting class one day – a beautiful abstract rendition of the manor with thick, frosty white, life-like trees dominating the stage – and I thought, “I have to help build this set!” So I did, and so I was introduced to the backstage world. For the next year and half, I explored everything from build crew to lighting to props management. The fall of my senior year, I walked into the first stage crew meeting expecting to work on props again – the show was Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. Our technical director, however, had other plans. She approached me and said that they still needed a stage manager and they wanted me to do it.

WHAT???? I don’t know the first thing about stage management!!!

But I took the risk. I learned my way around. It was difficult at first – a job far more complex than simply rummaging around a storage room pulling props, like I thought I would be doing. Now I had lists, reports, run sheets, and even people to keep organized. I definitely needed to take the time to get the hang of it. When I did, I fell absolutely head over heels in love with it. I couldn’t believe what I had accomplished. What a whirlwind! It was amazing! I had to do it again! I ended up managing three more shows that year, which was unheard of in my theatre department. I had found my favorite thing to do – and I was good at it! At the end of the year, I received special recognition by the department for my work as a stage manager.

So here I am, a sophomore at Hope College in Holland, Michigan, a major in Theatre and a minor in Writing, and soaking up all the knowledge I possibly can about stage management so I can prepare myself for the real deal – Broadway! Yes, I’m one of those people. I want to make it big on Broadway. People may say I’m ambitious or impractical, but I’m honestly doing what I love. But before Broadway can be anywhere within my reach, there is much more to see and much more to learn. Writing a blog makes sense as my next step. I want to share my hopes, my dreams, the things I see, the things I read – all my experiences within the theatre world – and learn what other people in the theatre world can teach me. I’m inviting you on every part of my journey (the big, the small, and everything in between) to that moment when I can walk – as stage manager extraordinaire – through the stage door.