THE MIRROR - an improvisation format for two professionals and up to 100 amateurs. Designed by David Shepherd.

 

THE MIRROR 

 an improvisation format for two professionals and up to 100 amateurs

Designed by David Shepherd (Compass/Improv Olympic) 1974

The Mirror is advertised as a place where you create a show simply by sitting in front of a mirror.  To do this we use no written material, no satirical distortion, no symbolic magnification. The experiences we explore each night are shared experiences - common to most of those present.

When people arrive at the theatre, the first thing they see is their names and themes on a program, that's been printed only minutes before.  Next they see their reflections - in glass or Mylar.  In the improvisations that follow they see their own life - mirrored first by professional players and then by their peers in the audience.

If management can afford a videotape recorder and projector, the spectator can even have the experience of seeing a full-size mirror-image of himself.

David Shepherd - Armonk, N.Y. 1974

Gathering a relevant body of themes and an audience:

A performance of The Mirror starts hours before curtain time - when apprentices pick up suggestions for the show from restaurants, hotels and offices around the theatre. These suggestions have been written on place mats and table tents designed to involve people in choosing the content of the show.

Door prizes or cash awards are offered to those willing to play out a suggestion.  Consequently we get fewer challenges and spoofs, and more thoughtful themes.  On the back of the place mat are printed creative games that can be played over supper to isolate a theme. (Naturally these place mats can be taken home to remind potential customers of our address, and to stimulate word-of-mouth.)

The apprentices who pick up suggestions do not do it routinely.  They find out if the person who's made the suggestion plans to come to the show.  If so, they sit for a minute at his table to see if he's willing or able to direct the action - or play into it.  They prepare the customer for what will happen so that The Mirror can reflect the maximum creativity of the group that will come together at show time.

The apprentice is in face a talent scout searching for people who can illuminate roles, and roles that can illuminate people.

Preparing scenario card decks:

Information gathered by apprentices is woven by the professional staff of The Mirror into scenarios.  The flood of themes is channeled under recurrent stories.  These stories can be expressed in the same "master" scenarios, for instance: "Boy meets girl," "Boy loses girl," "Boy gets girl back again."

The professional players also choose a few sound and lighting effects that can enrich the scenario.  They know that the oldest scenario is bound to come out differently every time it's done because critical details will shift.  The lovers will have different jobs, different ages, different origins.  Their story will be played out by different players against different activities or backgrounds.

Each event in the scenario is stated on a card large enough so everyone in the audience can read it under a spotlight during the blackout.  A complete scenario might include a dozen cards, arranged in a time sequence.  It's the audience that chooses where to start in the sequence and how fast to go through it.

Each improvised scene is kept short and is framed by blackouts.  Each theme can be explored in about fifteen minutes.  A show consists of about three themes - plus the warmups that prepare audience members to direct and play into improvisations.

The role of the professional:

Professional players are limited to one man and one woman - in order to assure the audience of opportunities to intervene in many ways.  The professionals promise the amateurs in advance that no one will be forced to play,  but everyone will be asked to vote on which theme to explore first, and on whom to cast.

First: a few minutes of warmups.  Next: two pools of volunteers emerge - one of directors and one of players.  The second pool is spotlighted so that the audience can at all times see its cast options.  At any moment it can vote to replace a player, and some scenes may be done several times with several casts - until the audience is satisfied.

Naturally, if no one volunteers to play, the two professionals will play out the whole scenario by themselves - snatching hand props and costume pieces to double as the various characters called for.  But this never happens.

The audience soon finds itself adding sound effects and off-stage voices to enrich the action.  Directors in the directing pool stop action and change a factor - such as the emotion or activity of a character.  And from the acting pool real people provide real alternative to the strict limitation of one professional actor and one professional actress.

By the end of the evening these pro's have usually left the stage to direct, or have limited their roles to "one-liners" or silent "cross overs."  The Mirror has happened: by simply sitting in front of the stage, the audience has created its own show.

Prizes:

Part of each night's income is retained to reward volunteer players.  These prizes are not intended to make for a TV game show competition.  They are offered to promote audiences, to validate audience talent, to enlarge the pool of volunteers and to decrease the gap between the amateur and the professional.

From David Shepherd's IBM electric typewriter, 1974.

Michael Golding is a writer, director and improv teacher. He is a founding member of the Improv Olympics and the Canadian Improv Games.  Michael created the Insight Theatre Company for Planned Parenthood, Ottawa and the Comic Strip Improv Group in New York.  He co-produced and wrote the documentary "David Shepherd: A Lifetime of Improvisational Theatre" (available on YouTube) and his book, "Listen Harder," is available on Amazon.  Michael is a faculty member at Compton College in Los Angeles, where he works with traditional and at-risk students. He holds a BFA degree in drama from New York University's Tisch School of the Arts and an MA degree in education theatre from NYU's Steinhardt School of Culture, Education and Human Development. He can be contacted at migaluch@yahoo.com.

Improvising with my Father By Michael Golding

The last format I worked on with David Shepherd (co-creator of Compass and the Improv Olympics) was Life-Play, improv games designed to be played over the phone.  Created by David, Carman Dewees and Chris Britt, the format was utilized extensively from 2009 to 2012.  We had weekly conference calls, where improvisers phoned in from all over the country and Canada to play.  A handbook of games was published and I adapted several of them for my workshops with at-risk teens and college students. Unexpectedly, it brought me closer to my father.

A year into the format, David fell and broke his hip and spent a month in a facility undergoing physical therapy. I called him daily during his incarceration, where we played several of the Life-Play games and often developed new ones on the spot.  It was an intimate, beautiful bonding experience for both of us.

After a particularly gratifying session, I commiserated with David over how I wished I could play with my father the way I played with him. The two were the same age. Despite being involved in improv since I was 14, my father never really got it and I gave up trying to unravel the mystery of the art form for him.  David felt that was bullshit. “Get him to play the next time you call him – and record it for me!”

My father Gerard Golding, Aug 30, 1924 - October 7, 2012

I called my father the next day, proposed that we play one game and he politely declined. “That’s your world.”  Instead of pleading with him, I took a different approach – manipulation (an honored Golding tradition) and relied on the competitive alpha male relationship between him and my oldest brother Bill to achieve my goal. I claimed that when I told Bill what David wanted me to do, Bill scoffed and said “Good luck trying to get dad to play. He’ll never improvise with you on the phone because he’s incapable of following rules.”  Upon hearing that, my father sneered “Oh yeah? I’ll play one game with you. What are the rules?” The challenge was accepted.

I chose “Repetition Poem” which is based on an opening line that is repeated throughout the poem.  Ever since he retired, my father was always saying to me “If I knew I was going to live this long.”  So that’s the line I gave him, which I had him recite with the emotion of surprise. Here is my father performing that poem;

It took me a few days to process this poem, and then I called him with questions about it.  First line then stuck out to me was “If I knew I would going to live this long, I most certainly would have tried to accomplished more, because I would feel much better than I do today.”  I pointed out that he ascended the ranks all the way to Captain. A remarkable achievement, one that made all of us very proud, which I told him.   He wanted to go all the way to chief.  I had no idea he was that ambitious.

Second line that resonated with me, “If I knew I was going to live this long, I would have spent more time to find out how to play.”  My father always played with me and my brothers as kids. He could be amazingly goofy, silly and funny.  On top of that, with the Repetition Poem, well dad, that is play. I told him that, too.

Third line that caught my ear was “If I knew I was going to live this long, I most certainly would have been closer to all my family.”  I asked him if that meant his siblings or sons.  He meant us, me, Rick (my middle brother) and Bill.  I told him that he was always there for every major event in our lives.  Even though he worked two jobs until he made lieutenant, and was constantly doing overtime and double shifts, he was a solid, major presence in the house. I’m glad I had an opportunity to tell him that.

Unfortunately, the full impact of the poem wasn’t clear to me until the day he died.  Hours after receiving news of his passing, I posted his poem on Facebook.  My cousin Steve contacted me to offer his condolences and to point out that the last line of the poem, summed up everything for him about his uncle. “If I knew I was going to live this long, hmm, I guess everything would have turned out fine.”

When you think about it, my father married the love of his life, had a successful career, raised a family, was loved and admired by everyone who knew him, and lived in the house that he cherished for 55 years right up until the end.  So when it comes to the life of Gerard Golding, yes, everything did turn out fine.

My family. Top row, Gerard and Linda. Bottom, Bill, Rick, moi.

I will always be grateful to David Shepherd for pushing me to get my father to play and for the record I now have of that incredible moment. Carman Dewees was gracious enough to send my father a CD of his poem. Whenever I told my father how much people in the improv community loved his poem he would respond one of two ways; “It was something I did just for you,” or (with false modesty I might add) “Just something I did off the cuff.”

Here is the link for the Life-Play handbook. 

https://www.slideshare.net/cdewees/life-play-ehandbook 

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.   

Character Hot Seat Interview by Michael Golding

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?  

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.   

Lone Wolf By Michael Golding

Enrollments for my high school theatre appreciation courses where students receive college credit, are typically high at the beginning of the spring semester.  Not unusual to have thirty-five to forty students in my workshops. Taught primarily through theatre games, I’ve developed a structure that can accommodate a large group; warm-ups, improv formats, small group assignments and a closure exercise for the whole class.  Crowd control is an issue and it is difficult to focus on students who are reluctant to participate without having momentum grind to a halt. I often feel like an emcee that has to keep the show on schedule in fear of losing interest from the audience.

A small portion of one of my classes

Towards the end of the semester attendance becomes erratic due to overlapping student commitments; track and band practice, clubs, field trips and projects for other classes.  Attendance can suddenly dwindle to twelve to eighteen students. As the summer recess looms, the temptation to ditch a course that runs from 3:30 to 5:20pm is hard to resist, especially when it falls on a “half-day” where school is let out at 1pm.  Hanging around the campus for two and a half hours isn’t all that enticing.  For the seniors in the class, by the time May rolls around, they’re pretty much done and if they show up, it doesn’t guarantee their focus is on the workshop.

I tend to do my best work during this time because the smaller sized workshops enable me to focus more attention on students who need it.  Victor is one of those students. Shy, reclusive, introverted, he would often come to class late, timed perfectly to avoid the group warm-up and immediately try to blend into his surroundings. Pressed against the wall in the back of the class with his hoodie pulled down over the front of his face, he was invisible to the rest of the class, unless he got up to charge his phone.

Frequently I had to cajole Victor into participating. Often, he would just shake his head no. He would reluctantly join a group format but made minimal effort and barely spoke above a whisper.  Since my enrollment was 33 students, there was only so much time I could spend on encouraging him to participate.  But I knew this was the class for him. Peripherally I would catch him smiling at a game students would be playing or laugh at something that resonated with him. Our eyes would meet at such a moment and he would revert back to his introverted, sullen state.

When the class size was small, between 15 to 20 students I was able to involve Victor a little more, pairing him up with students he was comfortable with.  I found that he would seize up in formats that required an immediate response, but was more relaxed in ones where he was able to take his time to explore and discover.

Only 10 students showed up at a recent workshop. Victor was one of them. As a final project students are required to bring in a theatre game I have not done in class and conduct it. Five students brought in games and all required group participation. Victor joined in and he seemed to enjoy himself. Perhaps it was because his peers were in charge where they suddenly had a sense of ownership in the class, or there were fewer eyes on him.  It was a very relaxed, intimate session free of the usual ambient noise that made conducting a workshop difficult. 

One of my students conducting her final project.

With a half hour left to the workshop I decided to put Victor in a game called Lone Wolf with two other students, Breanne and Mike. In this game, which was taught to me by David Shepherd (co-creator of Compass and Improv Olympics) only one player can move and speak at a time. There is also a Viola Spolin game by the same name, but the emphasis is on multiple concurrent scenes. The class suggested a park as a location, with Victor, Breanne and Mike discussing how they felt about school.

Chairs were set up as a bench and the scene began with all three sitting down. One at a time, Victor, Breanne and Mike would stand up, say something, and then sit back down. The class laughed at how the game was being mocked, which is often the case when the rules of the format seem unreasonable or difficult.

I directed the three to get off the bench.  Breanne got up and created a water fountain, but exaggerated drinking from it to elicit laughter from the class. Victor got up and reprimanded her for making a mess. Mike got up and slipped on the wet ground from the water Breanne was wasting.

My next direction was for them to explore the environment and find details. Be as specific and realistic as possible. Victor examined a tree which had initials carved into it. He felt the coarseness of the tree against his hand and the indentation the carvings made. He was committed and focused on the discovery. Mike picked up trash from the ground and put it in a nearby garbage bin.  Breanne found a discarded kite and started to untangle the string attached to it.

The scene went on for almost ten minutes. Through a slow, thoughtful pace, a lovely scene evolved where Victor reveals that he is going to drop out and Mike and Breanne talk him out of it. All of this transpired as the exploration of the space continued, with specific environmental details making it more vibrant to the class.  The scene ended as the wind picked up, temperature dropped and it began to rain.

While I was proud of all three for working together and taking their time to create a realistic scene with humor that sprung out of the situation and characters, I was thrilled that Victor was able to commit to a format that required discipline and patience. It was the most natural I have ever seen him in class and from the expression on his face I knew he realized that he just had a breakthrough moment in the class.

I knew it was just a matter of time. I just had to be patient. 

After class Mike confided in me that Victor was actually thinking of dropping out due to feeling isolated and unenthusiastic about school.  As the result of two new friendships he developed from my class, Mike and Breanne, he decided to stick it out.  I choose Breanne and Mike to play with Victor because I knew he felt comfortable around them, without realizing they had developed a relationship outside of class and were about to embark on a scene that realistically reflected their dynamic.

With the right game and chemistry of players, it’s amazing what can be accomplished. 

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. 

Missed Improv Opportunities by Michael Golding

This semester through the Compton division of El Camino College’s offsite program I was assigned to teach Theatre Appreciation at two inner city high schools in Los Angeles; Firebaugh High School in Lynwood and Compton High School in Compton.  Students receive college credit for attending the courses which run from 3:30 – 5:30pm twice a week.  Two weeks in, both courses were canceled due to low enrollment. This is a common occurrence for adjuncts who work with high school students. The disappointment cuts deep this time out. The students at both schools were excited with my learning by doing approach, which relies more on participating in improv games, formats and group collaboration, than listening to lengthy lectures. I was stimulated by the creative possibilities both classes offered and was already strategizing how to alter my curriculum to accommodate the specific needs of the students.

There were students in both classes who have previously taken Intro to Acting with me, where I take the same hands on approach, although there is a scripted element to the course where scenes and monologues have to be performed. In that course, I give the students the choice of finding a scripted scene or monologue to perform, or developing one through improv and creating a script based on it.  Since those students were already familiar with my style, it was forcing me to search out new ways to engage them so they could not anticipate outcomes. What I found endearing was that these students understood what was going on in the minds of the students who were working with me for the first time and discovering in a joyful way, I’m unlike any instructor they’ve had before. The learning by doing approach catches on quickly, and nothing gives me a greater satisfaction than monitoring the looks of new students engaging in the work for the first time, where I know they’re thinking “Where has this type of class been my entire life?”  It is a welcome outlet after being cooped up in school all day for them.

.

At Firebaugh High School in Lynwood, I had fourteen students registered and eleven at Compton High School. Smaller classes work better when it comes to at-risk populations where I can give more individual attention. But the college has a minimum requirement of twenty two students.  Sometimes I can sway the administration to extend the registration deadline, and make a case that the students attending will become ambassadors for the college. Canceling a course that they’re into will only diminish them, resulting in leeriness when contemplating signing up for future courses at the college.  My case fell on deaf ears this time out. Essentially the administration told me “Better luck next time.” Tell that to my bank account or the students who were on the precipice of a new exciting journey. 

Firebaugh High School

Francisco, a short, muscular, eighteen year old fireball of kinetic energy, confessed to me at my first workshop at Firebaugh High School that he wanted to be a stand-up comedian. He was always seeking out the comedic edge with anything he participated in. When I asked for a suggestion for an activity he offered “crucifixion.”  An activity that a group could do together, he proudly exclaimed “circle jerk.” He frequently got cheap laughs from the class by mocking the games. In many ways he reminded me of what I was like at fourteen, when I first started taking improv classes and I was looking forward to slowly changing his mindset from “it’s all about me” to “it’s all about the group.”  He developed a kinship with Donotus, a tall, lean, and lanky seventeen year old who fearlessly volunteered for every game, without paying attention to what the rules and objectives were and was frequently crestfallen when his noble attempts failed.

I paired the two up for  “Try that on for Size” where an activity, such as washing the dishes is given, and the players have to come up with different explanations while pantomiming the same motion for the activity; (Example: “What are you doing?” “I’m trying to raise the dead. Try that on for size!”). After a few failed attempts, Francisco and Donotus clicked with the game, and were thrilled with how they were bouncing off each other and developing a rhythm.  As I drove home after class I spotted the two walking together on the sidewalk, plotting away with the possibilities of future collaborations. 

Compton High School

My Compton High School class had nine female students and two male, one of which was a dapper seventy year old man named Lawrence. The offsite program allows adult students to attend high school courses if the schedule fits their needs better. It’s an interesting dynamic. Depending on the age gap, frequently the adults take on a paternal role with the teenagers. Lawrence had a thoughtful, soothing effect on the other students, who readily accepted him. In my experience, inner city students have a more respectful attitude towards elderly people, usually because their grandparents often live with or are raising them. It was a joy to watch Lawrence immerse himself in “Tableau,” a game where players freeze in a pose that creates a picture of  a location, such as McDonald’s, the beach or a bank. Now retired, Lawrence wanted to pursue the college degree that eluded him in his youth and I was eagerly looking forward to becoming part of his journey and the various roles he would play with the students in scenes. 

As I torment myself with might have been this semester, I hope that the four two hour workshops both groups had with me was enough to inspire an interest in the work and future theatre courses. For the adjunct instructors, the offsite program is an admirable endeavor, designed to inspire high school students to consider college, what will be required of them and envision a life beyond high school. But the reality from the perspective of the college administration is it’s all about money and numbers. Pack them in, espouse the virtues of the college then send them on their way. Ideally, the college would love for me to have forty students in each class, which I have at times.  Even though I have developed a successful structure that involves group warm-ups and collaboration exercises, often the momentum of the class slows down due to crowd control when the class is that large.  Twenty two is the way to go. Even better if it’s less.

The ongoing uncertainty of committing to a semester followed by the disappointment of an abrupt cancellation has forced me to decide whether I want to continue with this program. Aside from the financial hardship, there is an emotional toll, because I cannot teach without bonding with my students and I’m already feeling the loss over the missed opportunities of this semester.  It was neither the fault of the students nor I that the classes were cancelled. What we’re all feeling right now is anger, with no one to direct it to.  I love what I do, but my heart has been broken so many times in the past with this program that it’s beginning to develop scar tissue.  There is no closure when a course is suddenly cancelled and I don’t have an opportunity to say goodbye to the students. At least I had two great weeks with both groups. We were connecting and I know that I was opening the door to new possibilities for the students. That’s something to be proud of.      

That said, imagine what I could have accomplished with both groups if I had them for three months.

Workshop director suddenly at liberty.

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. 

   

     

Life Story By Michael Golding

In my college workshops with at-risk high school students, I try to utilize their life experiences as much as possible when exploring themes, situations and characters in scenes, games and formats. The emphasis is on realism, which is often not the case with this population who lean more towards outlandish, unrealistic, and violent scenarios.

An in-class written assignment I use to elicit those experiences is called Life Story.  The set-up is that a producer bought their life story to be turned into a play. The student has to come up with a title, genre, and a few sentences describing what the play is about.

As I read through the papers, scene ideas pop out at me as I gain insight into who these students are. I write down notes on each paper to get the student to think a little deeper about the story.  This semester’s batch is particularly intriguing;

Life of Color (drama) A student deals with stress and anger through painting. Color saves me. Art saves me. Art takes all the bad thoughts away when I paint. I consider myself art. I myself am art. Art is everything to me. (My note: Lovely. Let’s come up with a scene where you encounter stress and anger, then deal with it through the activity of painting.)

 

 Beautiful Tragedies (drama/horror) A girl who lives with her grandmother and an aunt who is a felon, learns to deal with police, prison and the will to try and overcome it all. (My note: I’d like to see more of the characters who inhabit this world of yours.)

Addicted (suspense/drama) A girl who is being raised by a single mother, who she rarely sees, falls for someone that she knows is an asshole but can’t seem to let go. (My note: Let’s see a scene where she first met and fell for this guy.)

Roller (drama/romance) Girl is involved with a boyfriend who is into serious drugs and becomes aggressive when using. (My note: Can we see a scene about what he’s like when he’s not using?)

Viewing Things Differently (drama) A close friend’s betrayal and the repercussions that follow. (My note: Let’s see a scene about what the friend was like before the betrayal.)

Records (drama) A young teenage girl’s life depends on records, gets hired to work in a record store. (My note: Let’s do a scene where you apply for the job).

Ricardo (drama) Argument with brother leads to a fight that goes too far. (My note: Do you and your brother fight often? Over what? Are the arguments ever resolved non- violently? If so, let’s see one.)

There are students who don’t exactly do the assignment as described,  but still offer something interesting to work with;

Game Day (drama) A teenage boy comes up with an idea for a million dollar game and releases it on the internet. (My note: Let’s see a scene where you are selling this game to someone.)

Run Away Fugitive (action) Teenage boy breaks out of prison, steals a car, changes his appearance and goes on the run. (My note: What crime did he commit to be incarcerated? How does he survive on the run?)

The 411 (drama) People are always asking a teenage boy how to do stuff, because they assume he knows everything. Turns out, he does. (My note: Let’s explore various moments where people assume this of you.)

Money Gang Bang (action) Gang member gets shot in the forehead by a rival gang drive by. (My note: Let’s explore what leads up to that act and the repercussions afterwards.)

Shippers Found Dead (horror) Tech company uses zombies as slave labor to ship out merchandise. (My note: Can we come up with a scene that explores how the shippers became zombies?)

Once I’ve handed back the papers with my notes, I then get the students to come up with a who/what/where scene based on their story that can be explored through improv on stage. The student doesn’t necessarily have to act in their own scene. He or she can cast and direct it. Additionally, the student has to design a set floor plan, based on floor-plan symbols from Viola Spolin’s Improvisation for the Theater, which is a recommended textbook in my class.  The floor-plan provides the student with a sense of staging, set design and focusing on the where.

When the scenes are up on their feet, I begin to side-coach as the students improvise to uncover the beats. My directions hone in on specific improv skills, which are also essential life skills.

Side coaching directions:

1.     Five Second Delay:  Players have to wait five seconds before responding to each other.

2.     Contact (Spolin):  Players have to touch each other in a different way whenever they say something.'

3.     Inner Monologue:  Thirty second monologue on what is going on inside player’s character’s head.

4.     Gibberish:  Speaking in an unknown language.

5.     Explore activity:  Players have to add substance and detail to what they are physically doing.

6.     Focus on emotion:  Players have to explore what they are feeling at that moment and find a way to express it physically.

7.     Switch time:  Scene is taken either ahead or back in time.

8.     Switch location:  Scene continues in a different location.

Looking over the life stories from this class, various themes begin to reveal themselves to me; betrayal, friendship, single parent households, social inadequacy, anger, stress, work, fear of future, substance abuse, gang-banging, sibling rivalry. This group has given me a lot to work with this semester and they discovered that they have a lot more in common with one another than originally thought. Shared stories bring students together. The bonding process has begun.

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.  

Improv Mid-Life Crisis By Michael Golding

A little over two months ago I was struck by a car while cycling, resulting in surgery to repair a fractured collarbone. A titanium plate with ten screws has become a permanent fixture in my body. Now half man, half machine, I will be setting off metal detectors when I fly in the future. If a doctor’s note isn’t sufficient for security, believe me, I am prepared to show my scar. 

 

Unfortunately, I had to postpone a trip to David Shepherd’s home in Western Massachusetts to finish his improv archive project. David is the father of modern day improvisation and over sixty years of materials from his collection were going to be donated to an institution which will be accessible to the public. For now, the project is on the back burner. It will get done, hopefully within the next few months.

A major concern during recovery was whether I would be able to teach in the fall.  The college I work for has a high school outreach program, where I teach an after school theatre appreciation course for at-risk teens who receive college credit. I was offered only one course this semester, which meets two afternoons a week from 3:30pm – 5:40pm. The objectives of the course are explored primarily through theatre games.  I was uncertain that my stamina was up to the challenge and for the first time wondered if I was getting too old to work with this age group. Weeks of pain medication diminished my focus and passion. I simply wasn’t looking forward to the class. Was it possible that I was experiencing an improv mid-life crisis?

When I addressed that concern with my surgeon, he laughed and said “unless you’re teaching gym, you’ll be fine.” Obviously the man was unaware of the population I work with, or how physical I can be when conducting a workshop. Discussing the matter with my improv friends, Shepherd, Ed Asner, Nancy Fletcher (creator of Act Now, an improvised movie format for adolescent girls) and Howard Jerome (co-creator of the Improv Olympics and Canadian Improv Games) they were unanimous in their advice; pace yourself, sit down, and bark out orders.  Brave new world for me. Anticipating the round-trip commute to the high school in Compton on the notoriously congested highway filled me with anxiety and dread. The shoulder strap across my tender collarbone still causes discomfort, especially when I make sudden maneuvers or stops.

With improv consultant Ed Asner

It was a physical challenge conducting the first two sessions, lecturing more than I usually do, which only has a shelf life of a few minutes for the students. It may look like they’re nodding out as their heads slowly slump down, but I know they’re looking at their iPhones. I can see the glow from the screens on their faces. Maybe they’re Googling me or texting what am awesome teacher I am. Exhausted, I ended both sessions a half hour early.

I can’t sit still when teaching and my healing collarbone felt the strain. Many of my movements while instructing are reflexive, such as jumping on and off the auditorium stage, which I knew was ill advised.  As much as I wanted to phone the class in, I couldn’t. The students demand moment-to-moment attention. While I have conducted these type of workshops a gazillion times before, it was clear by the expressions on the students’ faces that it was their first time experiencing a learning-by-doing approach rather than listening to a long, boring lecture and it enthralled them. It certainly kept me focused.

By sharing that I was injured and showing them an x-ray of the titanium plate and screws on my cell phone the students perceived me as a badass. I wished my shoulder didn’t look like someone threw a pair of scissors at me to gain their admiration. In turn, the students were eager to share stories of family members who had hip and knee surgeries and what they were like before and after the procedures. All great ideas for future scenes.

Does this x-ray make me look fat?

By the third session, I had more of a grasp on who the students were. There are over thirty in the class, which is not unusual. All Hispanic. Normally, there is larger ratio of girls to boys in my classes. This time out, the ratio was reversed.

The boys ooze machismo. The themes they love to explore are hooking up, going to strip clubs, scoring weed, getting high and gunplay.  Because many are hustlers and have to live by their wits on the street, they’re natural improvisers. They don’t like to stick to the rules of the games and elicit laughs from the class by mocking them. None of this is unusual. They just need a lesson in the difference between play and game. With play, you can do whatever you want. With game, well, there is a structure with rules.

It quickly became a high wire act for me. You don’t want the side-coaching to come off as a reprimand, which either diminishes their enthusiasm or in their eyes a betrayal of trust. “Hey, I was just trying to shake things up,” one student moaned when I corrected him.  Sometimes, I wait until after the session, where I start my notes off with “You’re a natural at this. However…….”

An early observation with the boys was if they don’t realize we’re engaging in a game, they organically play by the rules; listening, agreement, teamwork. For them, we’re not playing a game until we are actually on the auditorium stage. If I warm them up while they’re sitting in the audience, it becomes more personal and conversational. I discovered that with the group story game “So What You’re Saying Is.” In the game, a player starts with a simple statement (“I went outside my house for a walk.”).  Another player would begin by saying “So what you’re saying is,” repeat the sentence he or she heard, and then add onto the story. The goal is to create a story with as many players as possible, chiming in when they have the impulse.

Example:

Player 1: I went outside for a walk.

Player 2: So what you’re saying is, you went outside for a walk, so you could get away from your parents.

Player 3: So what you’re saying is, you went outside for a walk, so you could away from your parents, because they think you’re spending too much time with your boyfriend.

And so on. There are other variations of this game, but this version resonates with the students.

I was amazed by how large and extravagant the stories became. Of course, all dealt with drugs, strip clubs, hooking up and getting high. My inner monologue suggests that in future sessions I should try to steer them towards exploring other themes that might motivate the girls to jump in. Or, I may have to break them up into groups of five, rather than letting thirty students fight for control and observe how the stories develop that way. My brain was percolating with possibilities.

The girls are shy, hesitant and rarely volunteer. Yet, there is thoughtfulness in the way they play, and when partnered up with some of the boys, diminishes their overactive testosterone a tad.  My sense is the boys don’t interact much with the girls outside of class or during the regular school day, so this is new to them – working with a girl as a collaborative partner, rather than viewing them as an object.

When I introduced Blind Walk, a trust game that is fraught with dangerous possibilities, the boys were surprisingly respectful and protective of the girls. In the game the group is in a circle and a blindfolded player walks back and forth across the circle. A student in the circle has to gently stop the blindfolded player from walking into him or her, then slowly turns the blindfolded player around, makes eye contact with another student in the circle, and gently launches the blindfolded player on his or her way towards that student. The blindfolded player has to be as relaxed as possible while walking, knowing that that the circle will protect him or her from getting hurt.

I was impressed. Normally first time out with this game, players are spun around furiously before being sent on their way, students in the circle are making jokes or yelling “watch out!” or someone in the circle might start backing up, or ever worse, step aside, as a blindfolded player walks towards them. Unfortunately, that admiration was shattered when a boy was sent across the circle. Lots of ass grabbing, head thumping, and crotch smacking. It’s early in the semester.

Now, as I bravely tackle the hellish round-trip commute, my brain is on fire running over my workshop plan and the results of it afterwards. It seems like my improv mid-life crisis was premature.  I have a lot of work to do with this group, and surprisingly, I appear to be into it.

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. 

.