Character Hot Seat Interview
is a game I employ during the first few sessions of my college high school
outreach workshops with at-risk populations. A student plays a person they know
well (parent, teacher, friend, relative) who is interviewed first by me, then
by the class. It’s an effective game. Opens up possibilities for future scenes,
provides insight into the player’s world, trains students with the type of
questions they need to ask to learn as much as they can about a character, and
makes them aware that they already have an arsenal of personas at their
disposal.
This is a game I often
participate in, usually playing someone I have a great deal of love for (my father, David Shepherd, Ed
Asner). In a recent
workshop, my students had a request. They wanted me to play my wife. I balked
at this request because I’ve been separated from her for almost two years, a
fact I have yet to share with my students. As
honest and open as I try to be about myself so I can gain their trust, I initially
felt this information would be a distraction for the students and painful for
me. It took a year before I could take my
wedding ring off. Once I did, I still stuck to the narrative that my wife and I
were together, and used a film role playing a single person as the excuse for
why I wasn’t wearing it.
My wife and I at a workshop after she played her mother in a Character Hot Seat Interview, 1986 Photo: David Shepherd |
Anxiety started to rise in
me, and I tried to dismiss the request as something I would do at another time
so that we could move on to something else. But the students were adamant and reminded
me of what I stress during the first few sessions; “there’s nothing I’m going
to make you do that I’m not willing to do myself.”
So I sat down in a chair as
my wife would have, took a deep calming breath, exhaled and looked out at the
class and told them to proceed with their questions. The questions were pretty
much what I expected. How long did my wife and I know each other? How did we meet?
What did we think of each other’s parents? Do we have kids? After
saying that we didn’t have kids, but had a cat (Gizmo) for 17 years, the
students were amazed that a feline could last that long. This resulted in a slew
of questions about Gizmo; where did you find her? Did she ever go outside? Did
she have kittens? Will you ever get another cat? They were also fascinated by
my wife’s Canadian nationality, and a slew of questions focused on her
perception of the difference between Americans and Canadians, what she misses
about Canada and what she
likes and dislikes about America.
The legendary Gizmo, 1984 - 2001. Photo: Jody Cherry |
While I was admittedly stiff
and hesitant during the first minute or so of questioning, I eventually relaxed
and got into my wife’s vocal rhythm and answered as I felt she would. My inner improv
monologue was whispering “relax, take your time, and get into it.” I played her
listening skills – the way she would take in a question, ponder it slowly, seriously,
and give a response directly to the person who asked it, often with a follow-up
question of her own. The students seemed
to enjoy that. There were thirty one in attendance, and she had their
attention.
Surprisingly, this wasn’t a
particularly torturous experience for me, although I was relieved when it was
over. I played her as sincerely as I could, with the uncomfortable awareness
that I wasn’t being honest with the students about the present state of my
marriage. There was still forty minutes
left in the workshop and I didn’t want to spend it shifting the focus of the class
on to me.
As I got out of my chair one
of the students said “Wow. I really like her. She’s cool.” That comment stunned me, because I was concerned
that any anger, heartbreak and resentment I still harbored might seep through
in the characterization. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. I felt good that my
portrayal came off in a positive way. Perhaps I'm finally moving on. And yeah, she is cool.
In my experience with at-risk
populations, being married is viewed as a positive aspect of my character and
my wife is an ongoing topic of conversation in workshops. It provides the
students with a comforting sense of normalcy about me, which comes in handy
when I have to persuade them to try something that is not perceived as normal.
Ed Asner once told me that no
one ever died from getting separated; everyone experiences heartbreak from the end of a relationship and eventually has to move on. Perhaps being honest about that aspect of life with my students will provide a stronger unifying bond in class than being married. "Otherwise Michael, you'll turn into a Mopey Gus and believe me, nobody wants to be around a Mopey Gus!"
Who am I not to heed the wisdom of a man who has been married and divorced twice?
Who am I not to heed the wisdom of a man who has been married and divorced twice?
Receiving wisdom while on Ed Asner's lap. |
Postscript: A week later I’m warming up the class with “Tirades
& Endorsements,” a game where a student can either talk
about something that angers them (a tirade) or something they’re passionate
about (an endorsement). Camille, one of my more passionate students chose “married men who don’t wear their wedding rings” as a tirade. Standing up she instantly exploded; “if you’re married and you don’t wear
your wedding ring that only means one thing – you’re sniffing around, period!”
For the next thirty seconds Camille‘s volume and indignation escalated as she listed the bullshit excuses she heard from married relatives who didn’t wear their
rings. When
she finished her tirade, she sat down with her arms folded and glared at me.
Her face was seething with anger.
The room was silent. I walked
up to Camille and softly said “I’m separated. Is that a good enough reason not
to wear my wedding ring?” Surprised by
my answer, she looked down at the floor. “Yes. That is a good reason.” I had expected an avalanche of questions from the students to follow, but there were none. Camille raised her head; The anger on her face was replaced by sincere concern. “Mr. Golding, who
is going to look after you when you’re old?”
I don’t think I’ve ever been more moved by a student’s comment. Perhaps Ed was right.
Michael Golding is a writer, director and improv
teacher. He can be contacted for
workshops, festivals and private consultations at migaluch@yahoo.com. Michael participated in the evolution of the
Improv Olympics & Canadian Improv Games. Artistic director of the Comic
Strip Improv Group in N.Y. & created the Insight Theatre Company for
Planned Parenthood, Ottawa. He is a faculty member at El Camino College
in Los Angeles,
working with at-risk teens and traditional students. He wrote and co-produced
the documentary "David Shepherd: A Lifetime of Improvisational
Theatre" (available for free on YouTube).
His book, Listen Harder, a collection of essays, curriculum and
memorabilia on improvisation and educational theatre, is available on Amazon,
Barnes & Noble and CreateSpace. Michael holds a BFA degree in Drama from
New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts & an MA degree in
Educational Theatre from NYU’s Steinhardt School of Culture, Education &
Human Development.