Mick Napier’s Advice for Second City Generals

From a man notorious for his dislike of talking about improv, this is pretty amazing stuff.

This is all lifted from an email sent out to Annoyance’s email list.

If you aren’t currently on it, you can sign up here.

They seldom send stuff and all of it useful.

Tips for success

In these newsletters, I rarely write about improvisation, because it’s little fun to “measure the magic”, but here goes:

Next week is Second City’s general auditions. Over 500 people will be auditioning in 4 days. I will run a great many of these auditions, along with my friend Matthew Hovde. It’s one of the scariest auditions in the world, and it got me thinking about people I’ve known, and what it really takes to make it in comedy in the United States through this particular journey… improvisation. I think I know a couple of things. I thought I’d share some thoughts about what to DO in this often confusing world… This is real, not joke…

  1. It doesn’t matter which school of improvisation you go into first or at the same time or whatever. There are sound reasons for any order or any degree of simultaneity.
  2. Don’t be seduced by being on a team. It seems like it’s enough and you are going along just fine. It’s not really enough, and it’s not a mark of evolution, it just seems like it is.
  3. Character work isn’t bad, particularly if you want to do sketch comedy. Don’t listen to false affirmation that character work or broader acting has a lack of integrity, it is just different. And that’s just true. Character range is a skill set that is not attained by continuously denouncing character range. It’s not something you can magically turn on at, say, a Second City audition. Believe you me.
  4. Write. For absolutely no fucking reason, write.
  5. Make it o.k. with yourself that you admit that you would want to be on the mainstage or on a house team or in an Annoyance show or on television or SNL. It really is o.k. Just don’t be an asshole about it. You won’t be, anyway. It really is o.k.
  6. Do solo work. Find a way to feature yourself.
  7. One person shows are fucking boring. Find a reason they’re not. Do that.
  8. Don’t wait for stuff. It not only drains your power, but actually has you be perceived as less powerful. You will have plenty of time to wait with great stakes for absolutely nothing when you move to Los Angeles. DO things here. Get a group. Create videos, write even more.
  9. Here’s two boring things: Headshots. Resumes. And don’t lie. This has happened: “We put this guy (someone holds up headshot) in the ‘yes’ pile. Anybody remember him? No? O.K.” (headshot goes in ‘maybe’ or ‘no’ pile) Because his headshot didn’t look like him, and his photo ironically worked against him. Look like your headshot, that is what they are for. Look like your headshot. Don’t lie on your resume. Man, you will get caught and you will look like an asshole. And even if you don’t get caught, you are that kind of person.
  10. Talent is everything. Just kidding. How you are to work with is as important. Your character shows up everywhere. Whether you are at S.C. or Playground or Ale House or a class or Corcoran’s or I.O. or Skybox or Annoyance or in the middle of the ocean:a. everything counts.
    b. everyone hears about everything.
    c. everyone talks about everyone all the time.

    Your behavior could affect whether you work here or there for the bad or the good.

  11. Take a break occasionally. From it all. For perspective, sanity, life. You and what you bring to the stage will benefit from your actual life experience. My own life has been a series of wonderful hobbies.
  12. Study acting. You won’t, but you ought to. You won’t because you think you are SO fucking funny, and don’t need it. But you do. You really do. I tell people that, and they say “yeah, yeah, but what do I need to DO to get an edge?” I say it. No one does it. It’s such an easy edge.

Twelve, just like the 12 points of the Scout Law.

Oh well, all of this is true. So there. And that, is as simple, as that.

 

-Mick Napier, Founder and Artistic Director

What does success mean to you?

There is an interesting discussion occurring on IRC about the career path/artistic journey of long time improvisers.

An improviser with about six years of experience is seeing the generational shift that many of us notice a few years in: the folks we came up with are dropping out or moving up.  Here in Chicago I see the folks I went through iO with moving onto Tourco at Second City, headlining weekends at Comedysportz or simply gone. Everyone seems to have gone up or out and I feel left alone in the middle ground. Not successful as I imagined, but still in love with improv and trying to figure out what to do with that.

This also seems a pretty normal place for most of us to end up. There are not enough slots on headlining teams at iO or Second City Touring Companies for everyone who completes training and loves improv. If you don’t quit and you don’t find yourself successful in the structure of a theater, what do you do?

The refrain from experienced artists is always the same: Don’t worry about what others think. Don’t compromise. Define success for yourself and worry about that.

Of course the simplest distinctions are often the hardest to inhabit and defining success for yourself takes a lot of life experience to do.  If you love improv, like I do, then you difficulty is compounded by the art’s distinctively collaborative nature.

Define success on your own terms…in an art form where focusing solely on yourself often leads to failure artistically.

This is also a strongly aspirational art form; few people enter it without starting from their exposure to a popular mass media “Final” product. Few experienced improvisers that I know have a hard final goal of TV stardom, but even fewer – experienced or not – would be unhappy with such a result.

How do we measure our own progress? Why are we working and training and performing? What is success?

For those of us past being a student but not climbing the ladder of an established theater, this question is hard to answer.

Let me know your answer to this question. I will think on it myself and get back to you guys in a few days.

3/14 Chicago Improv Comedy Auditions and Show Slots Update

Hey Everybody!

I’m sorry to say that there isn’t much happening that’s come across my plate in terms of auditions or show slots this week.

However! I have just finished the first draft of our Chicago BAR-PROV page which will have all the info you need to find and schedule Bar-prov shows for you and your ensemble.

There’s details on locations, times, booking and more.

Take a look!

How To Audition at Second City (Or Anywhere Else)

Advice from Second City Musical Director Steph McCollough

The overall message here is to be professional, but it’s clear every round of auditions that some people just don’t know what that means. So here’s what it means:
Appearance:

Dress professionally. A good guide is going to be how what you are auditioning for presents themselves on stage. (Have you seen any 2nd City shows where the ensemble is wearing flip flops or jeans with holes in them?)

Head Shot:
Look like yours. At the end of a day where auditors have seen 120 people, you don’t want them unable to connect the picture of you to the person who appeared on stage. ( Ladies: this means wearing make up if you have make up on in your headshot.)
Introductions:
When you are asked to say your name and introduce yourself, it is to give the auditors time to write down details that will allow them to remember you. Assist them with this task while not providing something that is memorable in the wrong way.
At the end of the day you want to be remembered as “Tim- the guy who interviewed for the CIA!” Not: “Lisa- the girl who vomited in her purse twice this last month.”
And as a personal favor, stop talking about your eating habits. If they are unusual enough to merit mentioning, we don’t want to know.
Also: Know the show. Don’t say you have never seen it or don’t like it. Why would anyone want to work creatively with someone who wasn’t interested in the actual subject matter they were working on?
Audition:
Treat this like a show you are doing for some very important people. (That’s what it is.) Pay attention to what you play and try to show your range. Real and relatable will get you further than crazy, off-the-wall.
At the end of the day you are asking these auditors to want you around, to want to work with you; so make sure that the real, best you is on display.
This is even more true for musical improv where the switch between naturalistic and authentic scenework and high energy, sometimes presentational songwork is key. Be yourself and know that seeing you is all the auditors really want. If they never get a glimpse of you, they can’t know if they want to work with you.
At the end of the audition leave the room. We know you want to create rapport, but these people have seen 50 people before you and will see 50 people after and the sooner you leave the sooner they can talk about you and move on.
In summary, make this decision hard for them. Be your self, but be your best self. Comfort, authenticity and confidence go far. If it comes down to you versus one other person, do you want the decision to be made on the basis of how often you do your laundry?
If you don’t make it, don’t despair. Every audition you do exposes you to decision making minds and whether you know it or not, they are seeing your progress and growth.
Know the power of relationships. The best thing in an audition is someone who can vouch for you. Your classmates, coaches and teachers may all someday be on the other side of the table from you. Your conduct and character will open and close doors more forcefully and more permanently than any single audition ever will.

5 Ways to Screw Up Your Festival Application

There are a ton of improv and comedy festivals in the spring that are all starting to accept submissions. In interviews with festival directors and producers there are a number of pitfalls that seem to come up again and again. Thusly do I submit the below rookie mistakes to be avoided if you are submitting to a festival.

1) Poor Sound:

The video is the chance for the director to experience what you do for the audience. Your goal should be to provide for the camera what you provide for the audience and unless you are group of fantastically talented mimes doing silent improv (which just about any festival director anywhere would jump at the chance to book) they need to actually hear what you are saying. Good sound doesn’t mean recording how much the audience is laughing; it means ensuring that what’s making them laugh is intelligible.

2) Poor Lighting

In line with the above, how you react and listen on stage is important to see. The audience may love you but that’s no guarantee to a director that you don’t perform improv for this audience every single week. “Home Town Hero” syndrome is best avoided by demonstrating to the director that you can actually act and that you’re ensemble work is solid. This is best documented by making sure that your faces aren’t whited out and that you aren’t just using one wide static full stage shot.  (If you tape with two cameras and actually edit it together it will go a tremendous length towards providing you with credibility.)

3) Sending less than your best work with less than your full group

It is bizarrely common to have submissions of lackluster taped shows with different individuals than those who will be attending the festival. If you can’t get the group together to film a show where you live, what confidence does the director have that you are going to get all your members to some separate location? Additionally, if you don’t like the show you taped, why are you sending it? The pressure of taping a show can make people do funny (read: Not funny) things. Tape a few.

4) No group concept

What is your show about? I can’t emphasize this enough. I hear it from theater directors and producers, festival managers, marketing directors, etc. I know you are real fucking clever. I know you have an awesome group dynamic and you and your friends make really amazing and creative stories. But if the best you can do to describe it is to say: “_______: really awesome improv!” You’re fucked. You need to be able to communicate in one sentence what you do that no other group is doing. If what you do is also actually interesting then even better.

5) Not making a cohesive package

If you have figured out step 4 then the next thing to do is to not half-ass involving it in  your application. Costuming in a press photo and in the video, fonts on a poster, copy on a website/poster/resume; the more it all communicates one thing about your group, the more memorable you are going to be. Streamline the information. Producers may see hundreds of submissions, none of them need to know that you have seen Springsteen in concert 14 times. If it doesn’t relate to your show, take it out. A festival director is thinking big picture; they want their lineup to be diverse, but specific. Give them an input they can easily remember and you are more likely to find yourself in the lineup.

Examples of cohesive well produced videos that avoid all of the above:

Code Duello

Galileo Players

Improvised Shakespeare