I’ve been thinking about how I ended up directing improv. And it all goes back to the Grad groups Dave Razowsky put together at Second City Los Angeles. (Of which I was in) but, more importantly, it came down to something the office came up with for dark nights at the theater.

The Grad groups were a deal Raz came up with to keep the Conservatory grads around after they finished the program. Typically, you finish the Conservatory and move on to iO. Dave was running his grad drop in class every week. This was just an informal class where you could show up, pay $25, and do a two-hour improv workout with Raz. It was amazing! And I couldn’t wait to graduate so I could start doing them.

Then one night after a show, my friend Kate and I were talking about life and improv stuff as you tend to do after watching great improv. Suddenly, David swoops in to join the chat. As we’re catching him up on our chat he looks at me and says “Why am I not seeing you at my grad classes Alan?”

I told him “I just started level 5. I’m not a grad yet.”

Oh, that’s right. You’re not there because you’re not a grad yet. Then he looks at Kate and me with a fire in his eyes and says “Lucky for you, I’m the f**king Artistic Director. So I’ll see you Tuesday.” Kate started busting up laughing. I sat there stunned. Not only had Dave suddenly insisted that I do something I DESPERATELY wanted to do. I had to figure out how to get my job at the wheel company I worked for to give me Tuesday afternoons off. (This led to me quitting my job, but that’s a whole other story) I was in.

For months I lived and breathed in that small dark theater. David was changing. And we were the canvas that those changes created. He was working on Viewpoints and incorporating them into his improv methods. (Read his book. It’s all in there) Everything we had just learned in the Conservatory, he ripped it apart and would ask us “Why? Why are we doing this? Is it real? Is it important? Are we just Yes, and machines? Or do we have a soul? Don’t just say “Yes, and…” Say what your fucking soul is telling you? And forget funny. I don’t care about funny. I want honesty! I want you to look at everything, I want you to listen to what is happening and speak only to that. And I want you to look at your partner’s face and tell them what you feel about them.”

And that’s what we did. It was intense and it t was always funny. Because it was honest and real, that’s the “funny” that speaks to people’s hearts. You can make jokes until you’re blue in the face, but you’ll never know the satisfaction of making someone in the audience laugh because your character said something that spoke to them on a personal level. It’s powerful stuff.

From that workshop, David built his third grad group. Those were groups made up of grads he cast and directed. The first two were on fire at the theater. Every Wednesday night the two groups would perform, and then David would do a show with other teachers in the theater called the Teachers Lounge. Wednesday nights, that was the place to be. (I spent a lot of Thursdays exhausted and hung over.) After each show, David would give notes. The notes themselves were a master class on directing improv. I would not only listen to notes from him for our cast. I would stand within earshot to hear him give the other cast notes. I learned so much about not only noting a show but helping players on their journey. Reading players by how they stand and move on stage. I give my notes in David’s style.

Then the office did something that would turbocharge this whole situation. And it would have the effect of making the grads directors for these troops. They offered students a discounted show slot if there was one dark. It was something like a week before the date and you could get it for like $50. So Conservatory students started putting together their long-form troops. And they were hiring the grads to direct them. Suddenly, my schedule during the week was

Tuesday – 2 hour rehearsal with David.

Wednesday – Show that was directed by David.

Thursday – Directing a student long-form cast

Friday – Doing my own long-form show somewhere.

Etc

Etc.

Etc.

When you teach and direct improv, you’ll find out a lot about yourself as an improviser. David would teach us using Viewpoints and then we would perform in front of an audience, then we would go teach and direct what we were learning. Talk about a pressure cooker of pure creativity! I was directing four groups before I knew it. Second City fostered it by offering cheap show slots. Which they did for a few years. Until suddenly they stopped. And the air went out of that balloon fast. Everyone did exactly what David wanted to avoid. People ran over to iO to do their shows and take classes. Still to this day, I think it was the 2nd biggest mistake they made (The first was letting David go)

When I got to Chicago I was super eager to direct again. But, funny thing. Improvisers from Chicago, don’t want to be directed by improvisers from Los Angeles. But, I did get to do occasional workshops at the Playground Theater. From there my friend Chris Biddle said “Hey, I’m in a group called International Stinger and we’re having a hard time finding a director that’s a good fit. And I’m kind of thinking you might. Would you sit in on a rehearsal?”

HELLZ YES!

Until I got to rehearsal and we did a roundy-round of our experience.

Holy sheeeeeeet. These people were The Pros from Dover! Three of them had been doing it long enough that they had taken classes with Del and Stephen Colbert. One was on Tour Co. And one was a teacher at iO and Second City. I sat there and thought to myself “Good luck muthaf**ker…”

We had a great rehearsal. I gave them my honest opinion. And then they said “Ok, thanks. We’ll be in touch…”

Right. Sure you will. I left thinking I had a better chance of growing a thick lush head of hair, than I did of getting a call from them.

But the next morning, I got an email from Chris

Hey Alan, the group is interested in having you do another rehearsal. Everyone agreed that they like your notes and that you were looking at our performances from a deeper level than “is it funny?”.

I was stunned.

We started rehearsals and soon they invited me to direct. I had been tossed into the deep end. These people were not afraid to call bullshit on something that wasn’t right. I would not be able to laze my way through this. What I learned from David is what got me through it.

Listen.

Look at your partner. What does their face say? How are they standing? Why are they fidgeting with the fucking button on their sleeve?

Move! Don’t just stand there and talk! The universe never stops moving. And every move that someone makes, affects your own movement.

Don’t let the big things pass you by! If your partner says “I want a divorce…” The fucking scene is stopped! That’s all that matters! The audience is certainly thinking about it! DON’T MAKE A FUCKING JOKE! Look at your partner and speak only to that statement.

Don’t be afraid to repeat yourself. Every time you repeat something that matters to your character it becomes stronger. Speak your truth. Say it again and again.

I had the honor to direct that troop for two years. I learned a ton from them. And I’m still close friends with many of them. All because of that tiny warm place where we could be creative and grow and learn in sunny Los Angeles.