I recently finished teaching one of my Art of Slow Comedy Summer Intensives, and I'm gearing up to teach another one this weekend. I've been teaching these intensives every year for the past several years, and each year I get the pleasure of teaching students from all over the world: Germany, New Zealand, China, Denmark, Poland, Russia, Israel and more.
In these improv workshops, I realized that regardless of what country students are from, all improvisers seem to suffer from the same issues. It’s amazing how much we all have in common, really. And, since I am now international, I wanted to share with you the three most common mistakes that improvisers worldwide are making and how to correct them.
What are some issues you are experiencing in your improv? Let us know. We are always trying to get better.
I have been performing since I was in my 20s. And when I started out, I wish to God someone would have told me that to get good at improv, you’re going to have to get comfortable being bad at it for a while – in public – before you can master it.
There are no short cuts.
I don't care how funny you were in high school or college or how talented you are or that you are a natural.
Unfortunately, the only way to really learn how to do improv is to do it in front of an audience on a regular basis when you are not very good. This is still the most painful part of the process for me.
Talk about being vulnerable. Talk about being exposed.
This was torture for a perfectionist.
I went through this recently when I put up my one-person show, “World's Greatest Dad.”
Each week the show was not where I wanted it be, and I was torturing myself because I knew the show wasn’t as good as it could have been, but there was no way to make it better without putting it up on the stage.
But each week the audience came in and enjoyed it anyway. The only person who was not enjoying it was the guy on the stage because I had expectations that I would be awesome on the first night.
I also knew the only way to get the show to where I wanted it to be was to do it in front of an audience on a regular basis and listen and learn what the audience likes and doesn't like. Let them help me find the story.
As long as I have been performing, I still don't like this part of the process. Who wants to go out in front of an audience and suck? But the only way to avoid this part of the process is to quit. And at this point, I am not interested in that. I'm glad that I walked through the shame of the first few shows, because by the time I got to the last few, I finally felt like I had shaped the show into something I could truly be proud of.
Something weird has been happening to me lately: I wake up and I feel successful.
I have not changed my diet. I am not getting enough sleep. And I am still not famous. But still, I feel successful.
As you know, for me, this not a normal feeling. And you could see why I would be uncomfortable with my life going well.
Well, I am not. I am actually enjoying it.
Putting up “World's Greatest Dad” has really helped with that. For someone who has always wanted to do stand-up since I was a kid, this is the closest I have come to fulfilling my dream.
I also feel grateful that I get to teach to some really incredible people, who appreciate my style of teaching.
And I get to write a blog that people read.
I get to interview the best teachers and improvisers and artists for my podcast, but I’ve stopped putting pressure on myself to do it every week, and now I only do it when I feel like it.
I get to improviser at least once a month.
I have a great family with Lauren, Betsy and Coco the cat.
I have lots of friends.
For today, I love my life.
I know that this too shall pass, and sometime soon, I’ll go back to feeling miserable and like what I have isn’t enough, but for today, I just wanted to get it documented that I am actually happy so when Betsy gets older and she gets to know me better and she says something like, “Dad, are you ever happy?” I’ll have proof that for a couple of days in my life, at least, I was happy.
Jay Sukow is one of the best improvisers and teachers out there. He has taught at almost all of the Chicago intuitions and also served as the Artist Director at ICC Theater in Copenhagen. He now lives in Los Angeles and teaches and performs around the world. Jimmy caught up with him in Chicago at Green Shirt Studio to talk to him about why it's important to make positive choices in your scene work, why he uses anger in improv and how he is adapting his teaching as improv changes.
Over the years I have taught all types of people in my improv classes and workshops. The majority of people are actors and improvisers, but another group that I’ve found can really benefit from improv are therapists, life coaches, and health professionals.
Why? Because therapy, just like improv, is all about listening. And when therapists can learn how to drop their own agenda and instead stay in the moment and actively listen to their clients, they are able to be more effective and have a lot more fun.
If you’re a therapist or in the helping profession here are three things you can learn from improv:
Have you ever been back stage before a show and peeked out at the audience to see only a tiny crowd and your heart sank? Yes, it’s disappointing. We all want to play to packed houses all the time, but the reality for most improvisers and actors is sometimes that just doesn’t happen.
Each group and theater has its own guidelines about when to call off a show, but sometimes it’s not always so black and white. Often, if the performers are there and the lights are on, the show is going to go on, even for a handful of people.
That’s what happened last Sunday night at our Jimmy and Johnnie show. We had six audience members -- not our usually crowd. I get it, it was a holiday weekend in the summer. The stage manager came back to us and said it was our call about whether or not to perform. John Hildreth and I had to decide. I hate these kind of decisions. We had an opening act, Mr. Suave, and I asked my friend Shad Kunkle, to perform with us.
Fuck it, we thought, if we have six people in the audience and four people from the opening act, we have ten people. Let's do it, we thought. And you know what? We had a fantastic show. It was so much fun.
So how did we do it? Here are some tips on how to have a good show, even when you have a small audience:
Have you ever played to really small audiences? What other tips do you have to share? I’d love to hear them in the comments section below.
Last Saturday night I opened my one person show, “World's Greatest Dad(?).”
It did not go perfectly; no show ever does.
It went well, don't get me wrong, but I had high expectations.
So afterwards I was filled with shame, self-doubt and self-hatred. I wanted to hide. I wanted to die.
Some of my friends said they loved it. It moved them. It made them laugh.
I did not believe a word they were saying.
Then today, I got this fantastic review in the Chicago Reader, which I feel so grateful for.
I am a slow learner, as you know, and, once again, it became very clear to me that I can’t trust my own feelings after a show.
So the good news is I got a great review, and yes, I am very excited. The bad news is my perception still sucks. Would you expect anything less from me?
I am proud of this show and would love you to read the review and, yes, come and see it in person.
I have big news to share with you today. I am really excited to announce that my new autobiographical one-person show, World’s Greatest Dad(?), is going to be opening at Second City’s Judy’s Beat Lounge next month. The show will run on Saturdays at 6 p.m. from June 15 through July 20.
If you’ve been following my blogs for the last several years, you know that my dad died in March of 2016, just a few months before my daughter, Betsy, was born.
Being a father was never something I was really interested in doing. Since taking my first improv class back in the '80s I wanted to become famous, because I want to be feel good about myself. I had a huge hole that I thought could only be filled by fame. But after having a child at 52, I realized that that hole could be filled from the love I got from my daughter.
In this show, I talk about my journey to becoming a father at 52 at the same time that my own father was dying, and through this roller coaster of life and death, I realize that you don’t have to be the “greatest” to be a good dad.
I’ve been working on bits and pieces of this show for a while now, putting it up at various storytelling performances, and I’ve really excited to share the entire piece in its entirety.
It’ll actually be the fifth one-man show I’ve ever done. My first show, “I’m 27 and I Still Live at Home and Sell Office Supplies,” was a runaway hit, opening at the Annoyance Theater in 1991 and running for more than a year-and-a-half. Since then, I’ve written and performed several others including “Since We Last Talked” (1994), “Dog Tales” (1999), and “Living in a Dwarf’s House” (2001).
But this will be the first one I’ve done in 18 years (can you believe that?), and I’m really excited to see what you think of it.
Tickets aren’t on sale yet, but check back soon here to see when they’re up. I’d love to see you there!
If you have a kid in any grade from preschool to high school, you’re probably well aware that we’re right in the middle of Teacher Appreciation Week. And this week, as I helped get together a gift bag for my daughter’s teacher, I started reflecting on all of the great improv teachers I have had along the way.
When I think of the improv teachers who have had the greatest impact on me, I think about the ones who helped me find my voice, pushed me to take risks that helped build my confidence, or had different approaches or styles that influenced me.
But most importantly, they saw me. They noticed me. They made me feel I was worthy.
And the teachers that really made a difference in my life also challenged me, like a good teacher can when someone shows potential.
Sometimes it was uncomfortable. Sometimes it was scary. And often, the hardest classes were the ones where I learned the most.
I really had respect for almost all of my early improv teachers, which back in the ’80s was not a very cool job title to have, if it was even one. And I’ve had a lot of respect for other improv teachers whom I’ve learned from along the way.
So, in honor of Teacher Appreciation Week, here are five improv teachers who have had a huge impact on me as an improviser, and yes, even a person.
Another thing I learned from Martin was the importance of play. I would relentlessly complain to Martin about having to play warm up games. I’d ask him, “Why can’t we go right into doing scene work at the start of class? Why do we have to play these silly games?” He explained to me the method behind his madness -- that they were designed to get us to play and that once he saw us having fun and laughing he knew he could go into the scene work. I have not forgotten that lesson and I carry it with me in every class I teach.
Martin believed improv could change the world, even if he had to do it one student at time, which is what happened in my case.
Del turned that upside down. He believed in truth in comedy, which is something I connected to immediately and something I am even more fascinated with today, more than 30 years later. He not only gave me permission to go dark in my scenes, but he actually encouraged it. What I’m most grateful to him for is that he taught me to slow the fuck down -- that improv doesn’t have to be rapid fire. This was my first introduction to slow comedy.
I was lucky enough to get an opportunity to co-teach with Liz Allen back in the early 2000s. We co-taught The Individual Assessment Workshop, which then lead to us writing a book together called Improvising Better. Liz was one of the best improv teachers I have ever worked with. She not only loved teaching improv, but she was also so connected to the students and cared so much about their progress. At the time, I was a bit of a long form snob, but not Liz -- she got excited teaching long from as much as short form. Liz had also been a student of Del's, who would talk about group mind all of the time, and I am not sure I fully understood it until working with Liz. Man, was she was passionate about Group Mind.
When you co-teach with someone, you not only get exposed to the games they teach, but also the way they teach them, which is invaluable. It's like grad school for an improv teacher. And I learned so much from co-teaching with Liz. In fact, whenever I teach the vulnerable circle or tell one of my students who has his arms crossed to unfold his arms to stay open to learning, I always think about Liz.
When I think back on these five teachers, I know I would not be where I am today without their influence. But I’ve also learned that our teachers aren’t gods. No one is perfect, and you can take what you want from them and leave the rest. I have been so lucky to get work with some great teachers, and looking forward to continuing to learn even more from others, too.
So which teachers have influenced you? If you’ve got a minute, please share with us in the comment section below which teachers have inspired you.
Want to take your two-person scenes to the next level? Sign up now for Jimmy's Advanced Two-Person Scene Tune Up on June 1! Save $20 when you sign up by May 18.