Tag Archives: Improv

Fred…

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It’s been a very bad month for improvisation and comedy in general. Now comes word that the great Fred Kaz, Second City’s legendary jazzman, has passed away. Many were aware that the time was drawing near for the 8 1/2 fingered piano man, but it’s still a huge loss. Fred was an institution when I first started studying there, and remained so even after he retired in the late 80s. I didn’t know him well, just enough to say hi whenever I ran into him, but he was very generous with his time when I was writing my Del Close biography. And an interesting coincidence: until I read his obituary, I didn’t realize that Fred and Del were born just a week apart back in 1934. The world of improvisation doesn’t have many icons left, so it hurts even more to lose one of Fred’s stature.

A mutual friend who preferred to remain anonymous wrote something that I thought should be passed along, so here it is. Good night, Captain.

 

What Would Fred Want? 


In lieu of flowers — or donations to charities that are often mere extensions of Big Pharma — I am sending money directly to:
 
Helen Kaz
PO BOX 1924
San Pedro  CA 90733

I know it will be put to better use by Helen than by a florist in Long Beach or the American Cancer Society.  She still has to take care of Fred.  
If you can think of anyone who might like to honor Fred’s memory by “paying it forward” …could you please pass this suggestion along to them. 

Happy Birthday Del

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 It was 80 years ago, March 9, 1934, that Del Close was born in Manhattan, Kansas. During the nearly 65 years he was with us, he taught us, directed us, appalled and entertained us, amazed and enraged us, enlightened us, and, most of all, made the world a better place for his having been here.

Del could be a walking contradiction, capable of surprising even those closest to him. He was a contrarian, a philosophy that informed much of his work and his life. He was also one of the few true geniuses I’ve ever known, with the ability to process information and observations and present them in new ways.

His life story has taken on legendary proportions, in part because Del believed that legends were often more truthful than facts. He was traveled the country with Dr. Dracula’s Den of Living Nightmares, knew L. Ron Hubbard before Scientology, appeared in The Blob remake, cavorted with the Merry Pranksters, used aversion therapy to recover from alcoholism, kicked a cocaine habit with the help of a coven of witches, became a very talented stage and film actor, helped to develop and became the greatest champion of long form improvisation, and bequeathed his skull to the Goodman Theatre for their productions of Hamlet.

Del directed John Belushi, Bill Murray, Harold Ramis, John Candy, Chris Farley, Tina Fey, Mike Myers, Amy Poehler, Stephen Colbert, and many others. He was co-creator of the Harold, director for Second City, San Francisco’s The Committee, and the ImprovOlympic (now iO), and “house metaphysician” for Saturday Night Live. His students went on to found the Groundlings in Los Angeles, the Upright Citizens Brigade in both New York and Los Angeles, and the Annoyance Theatre in Chicago.

I researched all the claims and rumors about his life while I was writing his biography The Funniest One in the Room. And although I discovered were some exaggerations and fictions, I learned that the most unbelievable stories were the true ones.

His ashes, along with a few photos and other memorabilia, are on display at the iO Chicago, and I’m sure he’ll be making the move when the iO moves to a new building later this year. Stop by and say hello. Del would like that.

What About Dick?

I just realized that, during the 6 months or so that I’ve been blogging, I haven’t mentioned WHAT ABOUT DICK?, Eric Idle’s hilarious, only slightly naughty comedy. It’s not exactly a comedy, it’s not exactly a play, and there is some improv and stand-up.

A few years ago, Eric wrote a script called THE REMAINS OF THE PIANO, which he has transformed into WHAT ABOUT DICK? He assembled an incredibly talented cast consisting of Billy Connolly, Russell Brand, Tracy Ullman, Jim Piddock, Eddie Izzard, Jane Leeves, Sophie Winkleman, and Tim Curry for a one-time-only performance in L.A. For those of us not in L.A., however, it was filmed and edited and is available as a digital download at whataboutdick.com.

If you’d like to order it but aren’t sure how to digitally download anything, I’ve included a video here that should help, featuring a very kind gentleman who packs more Dicks into three minutes than–well, you can insert your own Dick joke here. Enjoy.

The Funniest One in the Room…

And even though that’s also the title of my book, it’s a particularly appropriate day to recycle it.

ImageIt was 15 years ago today, March 4, 1999, that Del Close left us. His official last words: “I’m tired of being the funniest one in the room.”

He was just five days short of his 65th birthday, way too young to leave us without imparting more of his improvisational wisdom, and sharing his genius with yet another generation of performers.

Of course, Del never thought he would live anywhere near as long as he did, and anyone who knew him in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s might agree. (Much later in life, he encountered one of his cronies from that period, and began rattling off his list of performing and directing accomplishments. The man gasped “My God, Del–you’ve gone sane!”)

He left behind a legacy that anyone would envy.

The Improv Olympic, now the iO, turns out hundreds of students every year, thanks to Charna carrying on his dream of “Theatre of the Heart.” Whether they know it or not, everyone that climbs on a stage and improvises today probably owes a debt of gratitude to Del. His students are on stage, screen, and television, and establish their own theatres across the country and around the world. And for those of us who knew him and were lucky enough to be his friend, he left us with memories. 

The Harold

 

Beginning improvisers often assume that The Harold, the long form improvisation developed at The Committee and refined by Del Close in Chicago, was named for Harold Ramis.

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I point out that it isn’t true, and The Committee was performing Harolds before Harold Ramis joined Second City (the detailed story is in my Del biography The Funniest One in the Room).

But maybe it should be. And that’s the way I’m going to start thinking of it.

Early Pre-Python

This is one of the sketches I may be showing my iO class in the coming weeks. Known variously as “The History of Slapstick,” “The History of the Joke,” “The Custard Pie Sketch,” and probably by a few other names as well, this is probably the oldest sketch that ever made it into any of the Monty Python shows (the runner-up: probably “Four Yorkshiremen”). Written by Terry Jones and, I think, Michael Palin, long before the Pythons ever got together, it was eventually incorporated into the Python stage show, in part because the Pythons wanted to include some sketches that most of their fans hadn’t seen before. We’ll find out in July if they will include it in the O2 shows…
This version is from one of the Amnesty International Benefits. Enjoy.

In Memoriam: Goodbye, Mr. Winters

As 2013 ends, “In Memoriam” lists start to pop up on blogs. I’ve been fairly lucky this year in losing only a few friends, relatives and acquaintances. But, the world lost a comedy genius this year, and I lost a one-time collaborator, when we lost Jonathan Winters.

JWIn the world of improvisation, even among improvisers, Jonathan Winters was too hip for the room. Television, then and now, simply didn’t know what to do with someone so uniquely talented. Pure, raw comedy just oozed out his pores, and film and television executives didn’t know how to contain it or package it in the same way they did it for other stars. He was wonderful in It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World and The Loved One, but movies were few and far between. Youtube is full of clips of Jack Paar and other talk show hosts sitting down with him and letting Jonathan be Jonathan. But TV execs could never find a way to use him in a conventional sitcom or variety format, even though they tried (most prominently as Robin Williams’ infant son on Mork and Mindy).

When we were living in Montecito (the rich suburb of Santa Barbara), and I was working for John Cleese, Jonathan Winters was a prominent local resident. I kept my eyes peeled for him, but after a year, I had pretty much given up hope on ever seeing him. But he did do a book signing at a local bookstore, and I joined the line with my then-young son, and listened to him address the gathering.. We got a book and got a photo, and we left, impressed and hoping for more such encounters. Based on the stories we had heard, Jonathan Winters was supposed to be ubiquitous in the Santa Barbara area, but that was the last we saw of him, at least for a while.Jonathan WintersWhen I was growing up, I loved his too-infrequent television appearances and his too-brief TV series. I also owned several of his comedy albums, which were off-the-wall wonderful, and in junior high school, my bit in the school talent show involved lip-synching to a Jonathan Winters album. I loved the guy, and my only regret was that he wasn’t on TV more often.

Finally, on the day we were going back to Illinois for the holidays, I pulled into the parking lot across from our house, and I stepped out to grab a newspaper. “University of Illinois, eh?” I heard someone comment. I turned around and realized that the Great Man had been looking at my license plate holder. I stammered a bit and remembered that he was from Ohio, and a big Ohio State booster. I made a little small talk about their football teams, all the while thinking “I’m talking to Jonathan Winters!”

He looked exactly the way he looked on television, and acted a little like a bored townie hoping to chat. Naturally,I obliged him. I told him we were heading back to Illinois for Christmas, but lived just across the road, and maybe we’d run into each other after I returned.

That was my parting memory of Santa Barbara that year, and I couldn’t wait to get back to see if I could arrange to run into my new–well, acquaintance, at least. I ran into an old classmate while I was back, who asked me what California was like. I said “It’s pretty much the same as Illinois, except when you’re standing in line at the post office and you see somebody who looks like Jonathan Winters, it really is Jonathan Winters.”

Upon our return to Montecito, I made a post office run mid-morning, and in the strip mall where the small local post office was located, I saw a large expensive-looking car parked in the handicapped space outside with the license plate reading JW 1. I swerved  into the first parking space available and went in to “buy some stamps,” hoping that what I was doing would not legally constitute stalking. He was indeed standing at the counter, mailing out copies of his recent book. As I had a copy of it at home, I approached him and asked if I could get him to sign it sometime. “Sure,” he said, “can you meet me at the pharmacy at lunchtime?” The pharmacy he referred to was about a minute’s walk away, and was actually a drugstore with an outdoor area that served lunch. Laurie and I decided to eat there, and sure enough, shortly after we arrived, Jonathan Winters arrived. He signed and we chatted–for some reason, we talked sports again, and told him about working for John Cleese. Just before he left, he said “I’ve got an idea I’d like to talk to you about. Can I call you?”

Could he call me? I gave him all of my phone numbers, figuring there was at best a 50-50 chance I’d hear back from him. But a couple of days later, I had stepped away from my desk when the phone rang and the machine kicked in, and I heard his familiar voice leaving a lengthy, hilarious message which I still kick myself for not saving. We arranged another lunch at a nearby cafe.

He discussed a film that he wanted to write with me, a sports-related film. Over several weeks, we made several attempts to break the story, but none of them really succeeded–while I was trying to write a story and a vehicle for Jonathan Winters, he was much more interested in writing a very serious, very dark story. Ultimately, we couldn’t reconcile the approaches. Write something serious for Jonathan Winters? To me, the man sitting across the table was comedy.

There was a dark side to him, make no mistake. He fought–and mostly conquered–many well-publicized demons, and was never shy about talking about any of them. But he channeled the pain into comedy, into laughs like the world had never seen, all improvised.

Eating lunch in public with Jonathan Winters, I found out, was as entertaining as any of his television performances. Sometimes people would recognize and approach him, other times he would notice something someone was wearing or carrying and he would approach them and make a comment. He lived in his own reality, a strange but very funny reality, that he created for each and every person he talked to. He always referred to me as “This is my stepson,” a role I embraced. And, when I initially referred to him as “Jonathan,” he politely corrected me, and I always respectfully referred to him as “Mr. Winters.”

So as 2013 draws to a close, Mr. Winters, I’ll say a last goodbye from your friend. Your collaborator. Your stepson.

Farley

It’s hard to imagine what a 49-year-old Chris Farley would be doing right now. Movies, of course. Naturally, SNL would have wanted to bring him back as their Toronto Mayor Rob Ford. So many things… But we’ll never know, because we lost Chris on this date in 1997. It’s hard to believe he’s been gone 16 years, despite the best efforts of so many friends who tried to help him. 

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My own favorite memories of him were when we were both part of the whole Chicago improv scene in the late ’80s, when everyone knew each other, closed the neighborhood bars after the shows, and crashed at each others’ places. It was an amazing scene, one that hasn’t been written about much yet, but eventually will be. (How could it not, with the talent that went through during that era?)

We had all heard about this kid from Wisconsin, the one that idolized Belushi and wanted to study with Belushi’s favorite director, but we hadn’t seen him perform. He had started taking classes with Del and Charna, but they kept insisting that he wasn’t ready to perform yet. Of course, this only made him want it all the more. Finally, they decided he was ready. I seem to recall that Del tipped some of us off, that we might want to catch this kid and his first time on a Chicago stage. Del did NOT say this sort of thing, ever, so when he told us that night, we made a point of watching.

I think we later came to accept the metaphor: Farley attacked the stage, with an intensity that blew us away. His was raw and unpolished talent, but he blew us away. Del later told him “You’re like one of those guys that the Vikings used to strap to the prow of their ships when they’re going into battle.” And he was right.

Of course, the more he studied, the more disciplined and professional he became, but I’ll never forget that first night. Miss you, Chris.

Sellout

As I write this, there are only two more spots open in my Python Process writing class at the iO Chicago. This is the one I warned you about here. This sold out almost as quickly as the Python reunion shows! If you missed out this time, cross fingers, and maybe we can offer it again soon.

If you were able to sign up for it, I’ll see you in January. This should be fun!

iO Chicago Python Process class!

I just heard that the announcement for my Python writing class is about to be emailed out. And, since I promised yesterday that I’d give all of my blog followers notice, consider yourself noticed! The three-hour workshop filled up in just a few hours, so if you want to reserve a space in this lengthier, more detailed, four-week session, this might be a good time to do it, especially as there are only 14 spaces in the new class.

Both this workshop and the previous one will take a close look at the Python writing process–how they collaborated and re-wrote each others’ material–and how you can use their methods for your own nefarious means. It should be a lot of fun, so if you’re in the Chicago area and it sounds like something you’d like, contact the iO Chicago!