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Jun. 25th, 2013 09:46 pm
Or ben, io suo dottore!
I'm not sure how much of a success this year's Day of Enriching the Staff was--I guess we'll have to wait for the surveys to come in. Reports were that some of the events were sparsely attended and our centerpiece presentation had to be cancelled when the speaker got delayed due to (say it together with me) "weather in Chicago". But my day was a success as of the first presentation, an introduction to commedia dell'arte presented by a student of Second City and the Annoyance.
The format was simple: show a mask, talk about the character, give a short demo, invite everyone to learn a few gestures, and then tap a couple of participants to improvise a scene. He started with Zanni, the simplest (in more ways than one) and worked up to the Innamorati. I got tapped twice: first to take the mask of il Dottore and deliver a comic monologue on "the definition of 'library'" and then to take the part of an Innamorato in a parody of Romeo and Juliet.
My partner for the second scene was non other than my Überboss, who broke the fundamental rule of improvisation: She said 'no'. Literally. But I forgave her, because it proved a showstopper in a good as well as a bad way; I'm really not sure how we could've topped that laugh. She also gave a bravura performance as a Capitano in the previous scene. And even La Vache showed natural comic talent in the role of a buffoonish servant.
The presenter warned us it would be a workout and it was. All the gestures and movements are derived from ordinary ones, but enlarged and exaggerated until they become comic. This means big steps, holding your arms out, and lots of flailing about. The masks were beautiful, handmade in leather by a 3+ generation commediante, and we were warned not to touch them during our scenes--not, as I first thought, because of the risk of damaging them, but because the resulting sound might break the illusion.
Which is odd in a way because breaking the fourth wall is such an integral part of the performance. The first exercise he put La Vache through, in fact, was individually addressing each member of the audience to make sure she had their attention. Moreover, the only exception to the no-touching rule was that performers are allowed to lift their masks in order to address each other as actors and return to the scene.
My one disappointment was that we weren't able to do a multilingual scene. This was (and is) apparently common practice in the genre because troupes were, after all, international. Due to the lack of a common Italian vernacular, even those which never left Italy had to have members fluent in a variety of local dialects. He described a performance he gave in contemporary Italy where he spoke English while his three cohorts spoke Dutch, Italian, and Turkish, respectively. La Vache worked some French, Italian, and even some German into her bit, but I delivered mine solely in English despite being urged to mix it up more.
Who knows, though, I might get another crack. Certainly would enliven the planning retreat we have scheduled two weeks from now!
The format was simple: show a mask, talk about the character, give a short demo, invite everyone to learn a few gestures, and then tap a couple of participants to improvise a scene. He started with Zanni, the simplest (in more ways than one) and worked up to the Innamorati. I got tapped twice: first to take the mask of il Dottore and deliver a comic monologue on "the definition of 'library'" and then to take the part of an Innamorato in a parody of Romeo and Juliet.
My partner for the second scene was non other than my Überboss, who broke the fundamental rule of improvisation: She said 'no'. Literally. But I forgave her, because it proved a showstopper in a good as well as a bad way; I'm really not sure how we could've topped that laugh. She also gave a bravura performance as a Capitano in the previous scene. And even La Vache showed natural comic talent in the role of a buffoonish servant.
The presenter warned us it would be a workout and it was. All the gestures and movements are derived from ordinary ones, but enlarged and exaggerated until they become comic. This means big steps, holding your arms out, and lots of flailing about. The masks were beautiful, handmade in leather by a 3+ generation commediante, and we were warned not to touch them during our scenes--not, as I first thought, because of the risk of damaging them, but because the resulting sound might break the illusion.
Which is odd in a way because breaking the fourth wall is such an integral part of the performance. The first exercise he put La Vache through, in fact, was individually addressing each member of the audience to make sure she had their attention. Moreover, the only exception to the no-touching rule was that performers are allowed to lift their masks in order to address each other as actors and return to the scene.
My one disappointment was that we weren't able to do a multilingual scene. This was (and is) apparently common practice in the genre because troupes were, after all, international. Due to the lack of a common Italian vernacular, even those which never left Italy had to have members fluent in a variety of local dialects. He described a performance he gave in contemporary Italy where he spoke English while his three cohorts spoke Dutch, Italian, and Turkish, respectively. La Vache worked some French, Italian, and even some German into her bit, but I delivered mine solely in English despite being urged to mix it up more.
Who knows, though, I might get another crack. Certainly would enliven the planning retreat we have scheduled two weeks from now!
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