Off The Cuff With David Shepherd by Michael Golding

David Shepherd is one of my oldest friends.  I’m not referring to his age, although he is approaching Jurassic status. Our friendship passed the forty year mark last year and I’m grateful to still have him in my life.

From the documentary "David Shepherd: A Lifetime of Improvisational Theatre" 2009. 

For those of you who are unfamiliar with David, he created Compass, the first improv theatre company in the United States with Paul Sills.  Compass was the predecessor of Second City.  David also created, with Howard Jerome, the Improv Olympics, which influenced the birth of the Canadian Improv Games and i.O.  That’s just two of the dozens of formats he has created over the past sixty years.

Several years ago, David broke his hip and spent a couple of months in a convalescent center undergoing physical therapy.  At the time, we were working on his new format Life-Play, a series of games designed to be played over the phone.  His misfortune became an opportunity for us to play more frequently, testing and re-designing the games, while creating new ones.  Most of our sessions were scheduled in advance.  Other times I simply picked up the phone whenever I had the urge to play.  David was always game, even once when he was on the toilet waiting for a nurse to retrieve him.

With Howard Jerome at the Canadian Improv Games National Festival, 2002.

One time I suggested we forgo the games and simply play a scene about two characters having a conversation on the phone.  David decided that gay marriage should be the theme.  Together we conjured up a scenario where we were a couple, and I was out of town tending to my mother’s funeral in Florida.

The scenario began with us amicably checking in on each other.  Just the usual small-talk long-term couples have.  As our conversation progressed, delving into more personal issues, David became increasingly hesitant and evasive, especially when I mentioned how much I missed him and couldn’t wait to get home.  “There’s no reason to rush back, Michael.” he said coldly.

My heart began to beat faster.  “What’s going on, David?”  The silence on the other end of the line felt interminable.  “Michael, I’ve had a lot of time to think while you’ve been away.  I feel our relationship has come to an end.”

Improvising with David in Belchertown, Mass - 2010.

My fury was real.  I couldn’t believe he was breaking up with me over the phone!  I accused him of being a coward, waiting for me to be safely out of town before being clobbered by the bad news.

David admitted that one of the main factors in breaking up was that he wanted to have children, something I could not give him.  I pleaded that was nonsense, we could adopt.  That was not sufficient for David.  He wanted a child that came from his own loins and he had found a woman who was willing to provide him with one.  That was too much for me to handle and the scene ended after I yelled out “I’m hanging up on you!” Scene!

Silence followed for about thirty seconds.  Then, with a sense of relief in his voice, David confessed “That was weird.”  I agreed and we started evaluating the scene.  From my perspective, I approached the scene as someone who missed his companion, and was sincerely waylaid when it became a break-up scene.  Didn’t see that coming.

Defending himself, David reasoned that he was afraid because of my “volatility” and felt distance was the safest way for him to be honest with me.  That hurt.  “When have I EVER given you cause to be afraid of me?  And incidentally, you decided it was a good idea to tell me you wanted to have kids for the FIRST TIME EVER in our relationship as I’m cleaning out my dead mother’s condo?”

We fell right back into the scene.  For another ten minutes.  After that round, I was emotionally exhausted.  David was ecstatic.  “That felt more real!  It was juicy! What did you think?”

I exhaled my opinion through clenched teeth.  “I think you’re an asshole and I can’t believe I wasted the best years of my life with you.”

David bellowed a bombastic “HA!  Beautiful!”

After we hung up, I looked at the phone and said “Yeah, laugh it up Guru-boy.  Wait until my lawyer gets his hands on you.”

Occasionally, I’ll participate in the weekly Life-Play conference call, so I can play with David.  Since our experiment, whenever someone pitches “gay couple” as our relationship, one of us will invariably ask for another suggestion, adding “That scene has been played.”

At the 2011 Boston Improv Festival with David, Howard Jerome and Nancy Fletcher.

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 Is My Co-Pilot by Michael Golding

Barely a month into the Fall semester at the college where I teach in Los Angeles, my father passed away and I had to take a one week leave to go to New York for his funeral.  Understandably, the world took on a surreal quality and I dreaded the long red eye flight ahead of me.

On the plane, a woman I sat next to was amused by how I managed to shove my slightly larger than regulations suitcase under the seat.  She complimented me on my success and I responded with “I’m very good at transforming objects.”  After a few moments of witty repartee, it turned out that I was sitting next to a fellow improviser.  We talked shop for a bit and discovered the second thing we had in common.  Neither of us can sleep on planes.

When I told her why I was traveling, she felt that continuing to talk about improv was inappropriate and was going to respect my privacy.  That was the last thing I wanted.  “Look, it’s not going to be good for me sitting still fighting back the tidal wave of grief swarming in my head.  If you don’t mind, I’d love to continue our conversation.”  She was game.  Through the entirety of the flight, we talked long-form, short-form, educational theatre, Spolin, Sills, Shepherd, Theatre Sports, Comedy Sportz, Improv Olympics, Canadian Improv Games, Armando.  The Improv Vortex is vast, and yet, I don’t think we left any facet unexplored.  We blinked and suddenly we were in New York.  Even though neither of us had slept, we both felt refreshed.

It was serendipitous that our paths crossed.  Ironically, through-out the course of our marathon improv discussion the one thing I did not learn was her name.  Oh, name-less improviser, you have my ever-lasting gratitude.

A week later, I was back in Los Angeles.  I was not in great shape.  My perception sashayed between a living nightmare to being slightly out of sync with the world.  For the first time in my teaching career, I was not looking forward to the classroom and wanted to get that returning workshop out of the way as soon as possible, so I could go home and wallow in some misery.  I designed a few group assignments that required very little input from me.  My plan was to just sit and watch the class work.

My students had something else in mind.

When I entered the auditorium where the class took place, the faces of the students lit up as if I was a long lost relative.  The substitute they had was old school.  He was not a believer in my learning by doing approach.  He lectured.  Endlessly.

I laid out what I wanted the students to accomplish in class.  Silence.  Nobody moved.  Then, one of the shyest students spoke up.  “Mr. Golding, since you traumatized us don’t you think you should make it up by letting us do what we want to, today?”  That made me laugh.  “Sure, what do you guys want to do, today?”

They wanted me to play.  With all of them.  For the entire workshop.

We warmed-up with Kitty Wants A Corner, where players in a circle try to make eye contact, and then switch places, while the “kitty” tries to capture a corner.  Yup, I was the kitty.  How did I fare?  Let’s put it this way, I sweat less on a fifty mile bike ride.

What followed next were a few rounds of Emotional Hurdles, where two players jump from one extreme emotion to another, while making the changes seem justified.  I was in every round.  With each consecutive scene partner, I started feeling more like myself again.  For the first time since receiving news of my father’s death, I was in the moment, focusing on my fellow player and responding to the next called out emotion.  More importantly, I was having fun.

The students know I’m a fan of “Walking Dead” and wanted me to create a game on the spot that involved zombies.  So, I quickly devised a new version of “Red light, green light, one, two, three.”  I would be the caller, and when my back was turned, the class had to approach me slowly as zombies.  We discussed briefly how to get into the physicality of a zombie.  Not all have working legs, arms or necks.  First round, I could barely contain my laughter.  They were all so into it.  Every time I turned and they froze, I felt warmth and delight at the sight of twenty teenage zombies in various positions of physical disarray.  They demanded a second round and this time, I was one of the zombies and it made me feel like a kid, again.

We ended the session with “Multiple Views,” a game where a story is told in past tense of an event everyone attended.  I opened the story with “I entered the theatre class and a substitute was there instead of Mr. Golding.”  The class leapt on that like ravenous wolves.  Apparently, the substitute was a cross-dressing, illegal immigrant, who was also a socialist terrorist trying to infiltrate the American way of life through indoctrinating high school students.  I didn’t realize my college had such an innovative hiring policy.

Originally, I intended the class to be short.  By the time the session was over, I clocked in with a little over two hours.  I left the school feeling energized.  When I looked at myself in the mirror at home, I liked what I saw.  There was color in my face and I appeared relaxed.

I couldn’t wait for my next class.

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.