Chunks Blown

I had a bad show last night. Everything but Rap Line started with a whimper and went downhill from there. My third show of three this week and the first since last week that I didn't ref. Don't get me wrong. I kind of blew chunks when I refereed the ComedySportz Training Center 303s and 404s, but the best-worst thing about reffing is knowing that, even if you f'd up, you've got half a million more words until the end of the show to redeem yourself. In the Sunday show, I completely blanked on explaining "Growing/Shrinking Machine". I've got a shoebox full of excuses, not least of which was an ambitious game lineup I that felt less like a solid show than trying to shoehorn two shows in one. So I got the suggestion and let 'er rip. Cap'n Alice, improv trooper that she was, played along, starting the scene out. Each person after shouted "freeze", entering the scene and thereby starting a new scene based on everybody's position... like "Freeze Tag" but with numerical constraints. When all the players are tagged in, the last player shouts, "Freeze" or finds a way to exit and the scenes return in reverse order. See? I can explain it. Except that I didn't and just admitted it to the crowd, saying, "Sorry. Well, you know what it is now. If anybody has any questions, see me after the show."

You don't get that chance as a player.

Every couple of weeks, the artistic direction at ComedySportz changes emphasis. Environment was being pushed two weeks ago. Now, it's want. Characters have an inner monologue that we as an audience only hear when the keyboard ramps up and the players burst into song. As a character last night, I had no want except for quiet, a want which all-too-easily reflected my own sleepiness when I got to the theatre, but which was hard to get amidst the spectacle and fake "I'm gonna punch you so hard your mama's gonna feel it" atmosphere of improv competition.

And you know what's funny? That's not even a counterproductive want for the show. The other team captain, Mike underplayed much of the show to brilliant effect. Challenged to come up with something more battle worth than Rocks-Paper-Scizzors, he brought out the Fluffy Chick... of Death. Then, when two thirds of the audience wasn't paying attention, he stomped on it. The final third fell in love then, and I can't say I blame them. Buster Keaton underplays well. He invested in situations that at time risked life and limb - see: house falling on, window in the right place, saved by - but it didn't play on his face. The trick is to hang back, ready to strike like the coiled cobra. Slumping in the corner like an understuffed owl just does not cut it.

I am proud of winning Rap Line, though. There aren't many words that rhyme with "Ferrari". I'll post the near-winning rhyme, umm, later. Everybody needs a mystery, even an understuffed own.