Not much to say about the money show. Full house again (yay), but whether it was due to the audience’s age, disposition, or post-Thanksgiving haze, we had to wake them up with a cattle prod. By the end of the show they were on board—except for the poor old folks who hated rap, and so hated the Will Smithian ditty that ended our show. I got some decent feedback from friends in the audience, despite feeling like the two sketches I wrote and directed completely tanked. C’mon, people, suicidal talking bananas are funny! Right? Right?!
Happily Pope’s ode to the glass ceiling went over well:
I checked out for a lot of the show, which was a small problem because I was on stage for much of it. As noted earlier last week, I lost my job on Monday, and many of the filmed bits we played on Friday took place in that office. I found it hard to focus. Today marks my first week of pavement-pounding and resume updating, and all the despair that these things entail. Although I’ll be posting (whining) about the job hunt pretty regularly on this blog, I won’t be writing about the circumstances that led to this situation. Indeed, many of them are still a mystery to me. It should be sufficient to say that my severance paperwork also included a non-disparagement agreement, a wise move on their part.
Onward. Upward. There must be a job in Boston that synergizes my creative and professional talents. I can only hope it pays.
My father found this photo of H.P. Lovecraft in a book. Usually when I’m told I look like somebody else, I chafe. In this case the similarities are undeniable.
Week three! We sold out the theater in pre-sales alone, which is great news for us but sad for our friends and family who tried to buy tickets at the door. If you’re planning on attending one of the four remaining Wasteland Comedy Hours, buy tickets in advance.
This show was a turkey. And by turkey, I am referring to a three-time streak of awesomeness in the sport of bowling—of course. A lot of the material came together at the last possible second, which will be the norm now that we’re mid-run. Another warm, supportive, and super-smart audience who appreciated our artsy moments as much as our dollops of, shall we say, raunch dressing. Highlights of this show included a five-part running musical exploration of Craigslist’s Missed Connections, a Hitchcockian thriller about babies, a talking cat, a silent film porno, and that part where we gave everybody in the audience a mix CD.
I’m working on getting a video uploaded. Hopefully by Wednesday?
I wish I had a copy of that damn Lisa Frank Van Gogh slide….
Week two was our most personal show, “Oh Mirror, You Always Know What to Say!” Another full house with people content to sit in the bleachers and loft. For Friday’s show we asked every willing member of our cast to prepare a personal monologue around two minutes in length. With such loose instructions, I was genuinely amazed at how well these monologues developed. Our cast had so much fun with their stories, presentations, and anecdotes that the two minutes invariably ballooned into 3-5. Our show ended up running 1:20, but I don’t think we overstayed our welcome. My friends and colleagues took some big risks out there, alone with the audience, and reaped the rewards.
Another one of my goals for The Wasteland, accomplished: create a safe space for sincerity. With all our silliness and satire it’s easy to distance ourselves from our material. Putting the “i” in “comidy” could have been tough for our particular cast because we aren’t practiced stand-ups or monologists; we often rely on characters and hilarious scenarios to sell our ideas. But we rose to the occasion, and shared some pieces of ourselves amidst the bits and jokes. I hope the rest of the shows are able to occasionally pull this off, but it’s not their stated goal.
This Friday’s show, “Love the Ones You’re With Whom You Are,” is going to be exciting. It’s a perfect blend between film and stage material, and we bounce between touching and raunchy like your favorite pinball game. If you haven’t already, consider buying yourself some tickets....
I wish I had a copy of that damn Lisa Frank Van Gogh slide….
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