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If you like her work you can let her know on Twitter @lynnecazaly.

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In response to the unusually high amount of feedback I’ve been getting about my talk, all I really have to say is thank you all very much. I appreciate every comment, “like”, and share you’ve given me on the interwebs. My talk was aimed at reaching, and teaching, non-improvisers about how useful the skills of improvisation can be, and I feel I’ve done that thanks to you and your support.

Keep sharing the good word of improvisation.

Thank you.

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In short, Paper Street is improvising in the style of Theatre of the Absurd and so far it has been interesting to say the least and contradicting to say the most.

Improvisation is about telling stories and connecting ideas, whereas Theatre of the Absurd is more about dissonance, and nothingness – a world with no god in which language, and eventually everything else, breaks down into meaninglessness. Beckett was famous for making the audience watch a play where nothing happens in act I, and then making them watch it again in act II. It’s been a very strange experience listening to your scene partner only to bring an idea in from left field, or setting up a scene only to have it simply go in circles. We’ve had to take most of our improviser impulses and override them. So, how do we do it? If not from our partner, where are our impulses coming from? Well, we look to the man himself, Mr. Samuel Beckett.

In preparation, not only did we read plays by Beckett, but we read essays and articles on the author himself. To understand an author, you need to understand his life and his motivation. Beckett is what should influence our choices on stage. So I ask myself “What would Beckett write?” and go from there. So far, it’s been working great. Whenever I find myself lost — which isn’t a terrible thing when improvising Beckett — and act upon an impulse that I think Beckett would appreciate, my fellow improvisers love it, and comment on how “Beckett” that moment felt.

The show opens on Thursday this week and I can’t really get into how excited/nervous/curious I am to see how it turns out. When a Beckett show would open, half the reviews would say it was terrible, and half would say it was incredible. I expect similar results. Half our audience will probably not enjoy the show, but they’d have to admit that it felt like a play by Samuel Beckett. If you’re around Victoria, you should come. If you’re not, I’ll let you know how it how goes.

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This is an open letter to producers and performers (especially comedians):

Dear person,

Please consider me, your audience, when you are putting on your show. Like most audience members, I come to your show and show you respect. I listen to your jokes, I applaud, I cheer. I am a good audience member.

What you seem to forget is that when I come to see you perform I am not only giving you money, I’m also giving you some of my time. And my time is valuable to me. In fact, my hourly rate is worth more than the $10 – $20 I paid to see your show. With that in mind, please don’t disrespect my time. An hour and a half is a long enough show. If you reach two hours, it better be a damn good show. Any longer and you are making me miss other parts of my life, that have more value to me then your self-indulgent jokes (that in many cases just insult and abuse the audience).

Your show isn’t just about you, in fact, it should be about me since I’m the one paying for it. If your show is you tooting your own horn for three hours, at about the hour and half mark I’ll be wishing I could go home. That means that the last half of your show is me not wanting to be there. That’s what I’ll leave your show thinking. In fact, I am usually willing to pay you more money for less of a show. That’s a truth.

There’s an old saying, “A good time doesn’t mean a long time” and it still holds water in today’s world. You may think I would want nothing more then to watch you perform all night long, but the truth is, that’s what you and your ego want, not me your audience. Take a look around at the people you are performing for and ask yourself, what’s the best thing for them, and how can I bring that about. Otherwise you’re not really a performer, you’re just an attention-seeker who has no respect for other people’s time.

Sincerely,

Dave Morris, Audience Member

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Being a career improviser, means being more than just an improviser. The moment I decided to improvise for a living, i became a business. Which means I have to do all of the things a business does.

Head on over and give it a read.

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The Winnipeg IF… can be described in three words: Food. Friends. And improv. It’s almost as if Steve Sim, the festival director, wanted you to feel more like you were on a vacation then at work, and he succeeded. We slept in every day and stayed out every night. From F’wing (fake wing) night with an open mic, to DJ’s and dancing at a house party, we took part in every social outing a festival should have. Steve Sim and Lee White are wonderful hosts – they know how to make you feel welcome.

Food

There was a lot of great eating. There was taco night at Steve’s, breakfast at Stella’s, thai food, The Falafel Place, home made potato pancakes, and so much more wonderful eating. We broke bread at least twice a day as an ensemble and it had the wonderful effect of bringing us all together. There was quite a lot of drinking involved too, and that didn’t hurt either.

Friends

I don’t think I need to get into detail about this. There were so many wonderful people to see and meet. New friends were made, old friendships were strengthened. Thanks to all the food and drink, we had much time to catch up and so we did.

Improv

Of course there was improv. In fact, every night I had some improv related activity to attend. Monday night I was a guest on the Crumbs Radio show where I had a lot of fun talking with my two favourite improvisers in Canada. Tuesday was the festival opening show at the King’s Head, which gave all of us a chance to play together. Wednesday was f’wing and true story night. So many stories, so many f’wings. Thursday night was the show I was most excited to see: The DnD improv show. Swords, fake blood and improv, can you say awesome? Awesome. Friday was the ensemble showcase, where i got to play with members of Outside Joke, followed by a late night jam in which Lee White and I brought sexy to a whole new level. Then on Saturday the festival ended with Samurai Davis Jr. & Dim Sum’s Super Mega Happy Fun Time Improv Show from Atlanta, Georgia. Think Japanese game show crossed with improv. I know. Amazing.

Overall, the amount of improv was perfect. Every night there was still time to hang out and get to know all of the improvisers which is, of course, what festivals are all about: bringing people together. I would highly recommend the Winnipeg IF… to any improviser who wants to have fun with other improvisers.

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Before the show started, Steve and I were talking to someone in the lobby and she asked us what we did for a living. I told her about my joe-job – I think I was working in a garden store at the time – and then mumbled something about how I also did improv “stuff.” Then she asked asked Steve and he just said “I’m an improviser.”

Just like that…Cool as ice cubes.

That’s when I decided I wanted to be that cool. I wanted to be an improviser. Just an improviser. And so I set my sights on it. When you know what you want to be, it’s a lot easier to become it.

It’s eleven year’s later and I’ve been an improviser, just an improviser, for 3 years. Dreams really do come true. Thanks Steve.

Tomorrow morning I leave for the Winnipeg IF… Improv Festival. I’m looking forward to doing what I do.

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Morris’s approach to improv is sophisticated. He’s a natural comic easily able to coax laughs. However, not content with achieving just that, he imbues his shows with dramatic elements, too — he wants the audience to experience something beyond a wading-pool-deep yuk-fest. Morris is confident enough to take his time, letting things develop in a rich, multi-faceted manner.

The nice thing about this review, is that he got it. He understood what I was going for: An improv show with depth and meaning, not just comedy. I mean, I got called sophisticated. I’ve never heard of an improv show being called sophisticated before. I hope I start hearing of it more.

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Here’s the full review:

In Photo Booth, local improv veteran Dave Morris tells a series of stories based on input from his audience. The show balances its laughs with bits of sadness, philosophy and satire. Given the nature of improvisation, every rendition will be an all-new surprise, but Morris is an experienced and reliable performer; he engages his audience, both anticipating and responding to their reactions, and knows how to take a tale in an unexpected direction. Morris has fun with his act as well as himself, pausing in the middle of a scene to make fun of his own acting and criticizing his narrative decisions as the characters he’s created. Improv always carries a bit of unpredictability, but because of its inherently hit-or-miss nature, it’s one of the more exciting things to see live. Morris and Photo Booth are worth taking a chance on.

—E.G. Anderson

Well, that’s a nice a review. Couldn’t have hoped for more. It’s honest and to the point with little to no hyperbole or embellishments and not a hint of coarse language. What’s most interesting to note is that the reviewer didn’t review the actual show they saw but the idea of the show and me as a performer. Personally, I think this is a good thing, but still it warrants a thought or two.

When reviewing a play, you look at the script, the direction, the props, costumes, and set. You consider all the work that went into and the choices the actors and directors made. But with an improv show, you can’t. Because the choices they made on that one night will be nothing like any choice they make on another night in front of a different audience. What you can review is their ability to make choices, and how they react and respond to their audience. And you can also look at the subtleties of style this particular improviser has. The reviewer of my show did all of this very well, and I would like to think, honestly.

I’m also glad that the reviewer didn’t review the audience. Too often you hear reviews of improv shows that are: “Oh, the audience wasn’t very good that night so the improvisers didn’t have much to work with.” Which may be the truth, but it basically makes the review meaningless by shifting all of the pressure onto the audience. It also makes the audience members reading it more likely to not go because they don’t want to be blamed for a bad show. So again, I applaud the reviewer for leaving the audience – which in this case was rather small and unhelpful – out of the review and focus on what I actually did.

And of course they left a nice little recommendation at the end. That my show is “…worth taking a chance a on.” Which is again, very honest and accurate. The nature of improvisation means it’s not a guarantee, but this reviewer thought that I was worth the risk. Sweet.

All in all, it was a good review – and I mean that in every possible way. If I were to come across other reviews by E.G. Anderson I would read them and consider them “worth taking a chance on.”

I give this particular review: ★★★★★

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These two shows, though very different in concept, have one thing in common. Neither started from a place of improv or form, both shows began as concepts and from their concept a show was form-ed. This is a little different then most improvisation you’ll see. Most improv is presenting forms/games/structures, with specific people doing them. A group learns The Harold or a Tap-Out or make up some game called somegame and that becomes what there group does. They are defined by the form (or free form) they do, and not the reason, or concept, behind doing it.

But why do improvisers do this?

It’s quite simple really: Improvisation is not a product. It’s not a thing to sell to someone. Telling someone to see improv is like telling them to go see “movie” or telling someone they should really check out “book.” Improv isn’t a product, it’s a process. It is a way of doing something. So most groups end up treating the form they do as a product, and up until recently, I’ve always treated myself as the product. “Come see Dave Morris improvise.” It’s not an improv show, it’s a Dave Morris show. Which is why my shows were always called Dave Morris is a BLANK. Well, not anymore. Now the concept is my product. Thus this years title “Photo Booth.”

Having a concept instead of just a form or person as a product opens the show up to a larger audience. Take Photo Booth for instance. It isn’t just a show for people who like improv or Dave Morris, it’s also for people who love Photo Booths. For people who love capturing a once in a lifetime moment with friends. People who are sad to see shopping malls adopt the digital photo booth and toss out the old fashioned film booths. This show is for people who love the you-only-get-one-shot mentality that is the magic of not only Photo Booths, but improvisation itself.

This post also appeared on CBC’s website.

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