Loon Over Manhattan

MY LIFE AS AN 

IMPROVISOR, Pt. 3

Soter with NY Improv Squad, 1985

 

Be careful.

That’s the advice I offer to any aspiring improv teachers out there. I’ve had my share of oddballs in the classes I’ve taught since I began teaching in 1987, but none as loony as Dan (we’ll keep him anonymous) and his wife, who both studied with me in the 1990s.

Dan was a dynamic performer. He delighted in playing preachers and prophets and was well suited for the part. Magnetic in his manner, over six feet tall, thin and gangly in his appearance, he could evoke a crazed preacher with ease. His wife was, as I recall, somewhat mousy and quiet, content to remain in the shadow of the Great Man.

They came to my Friday early evening class fairly regularly. So did a rather large woman whom we’ll call Josephine. Now, Josephine didn’t like to be touched. By any one. So, I had to warn newcomers (and remind veterans) not to touch Josephine during a scene.

Apparently, Dan didn’t get the memo. During one group scene, Josephine, Dan, the Wife, and another student were sitting around an imaginary table and, for some reason, Josephine was berating Dan – rather savagely, I might add. At some point during Josephine’s monologue, Dan made eye contact with his wife and, zombie-like, she stood up and walked to a position behind Josephine. At another barely noticeable signal from Dan, the Wife placed her fingers around Josephine’s throat.

The class and I watched, mesmerized, as the next few events occurred in what seemed like slow motion. As Josephine yammered on with her insults, the Wife seemed to tighten her grip. We all thought it was stage play – you know, an imaginary squeeze – and Josephine hadn’t objected to the touch and was apparently playing along. Even down to her face turning purple. I was about to interrupt and compliment them on their acting, when the Wife let out a yell and Josephine inhaled and exhaled mightily. “I couldn’t breathe,” she said between breaths. “I couldn’t breathe.” But she apparently had been able to pinch the wife hard enough to get her to let go.

As everyone sat in stunned silence, I offered some advice about respecting each other’s space, not killing anyone during class hours, and anything else I could think of at the time.

The moral of the story: take your students seriously – or there might be serious consequences. And watch out for the loons.

September 19, 2010