Performer Analysis: Chaplin (or A Kick Up My Backside!)

I had been feeling rather pleased with myself.

I had worked out that I’d performed thousands of live shows to over half a million people; I felt that I had a developed a high level of understanding of the process of clowning and visual comedy; and I had just finished making four short slapstick films, which I thought were “not too shabby” for a first attempt.

Then I watched a Chaplin short called “Behind the Screen”.

Suddenly I didn’t feel so special any more!

Well, it turns out that in his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell is right – there is a difference between capable and extraordinary!

I had come across the title reading Bryony Dixon’s essay on slapstick, “The Good Thieves”. I was delighted when I found the whole film on youtube.

Delighted… and distraught.

It turned out, my self-conceived “expertise” was nothing more than a knowledge of the absolute basics of a craft which Chaplin had taken to extraordinary heights.

Unlike my youthful introduction to Laurel and Hardy, I had never seen a Chaplin until about five years ago. Prior to that, I had the impression that Chaplin films were at best interesting curios of a bygone era and at worst saccharine and dated. But I was completely wrong.

In “Behind the Screen”, Chaplin displays an extraordinary level of physical ability, performance skill and, above all, visual creativity.

Most striking to a fledgling film maker like myself is Chaplin’s variety of visual jokes and varied visual construction:

• the angles at which he manoeuvres (and his great use of depth)
• his general movement – walking, behing lifted up
• the creation of images eg the human hedgehog made from chairs stacked on his back
• the close up character work (eg his onions reactions)
• the chaos – the huge pillar, the trap door

And then , on top of all this, is my favourite feature of Chaplin films: the consistency of  “other worldliness”. The Chaplin character stands out above his contemporaries because it embodies an animal, non- human character. This allows him to behave in odd ways without having to adhere to naturalism – which, for other slapstick performers, can hinder their antics. This idea is played out in modern cartoons – invariably animated characters are non-human, allowing the creators to play around with ideas that are not restricted by human reality. Chaplin’s tramp, although “humanoid” is more like a cartoon. And our emotional reaction to this sort of protagonist is subtly different. (See my blog “Animal Magnestism”) Traditional circus clowns represent a similar detachment from “natural humanness”. And the lack of verbal language is justified by this choice.

Even when his peers moved on from the cartoon-ish behaviour of early slapstick towards more naturalistic characters, Chaplin made the decision to remain animal-like – and his impish innocence, strange costume and make up remain valid choices beyond the end of the limitations of early film technology.

Perhaps this is why, above all else, Chaplin’s films hold up under contemporary scrutiny: they are in world of their own.

Have a look at some of my own slapstick attempts here! 

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

The New Slapstick Film NOW AVAILABLE!

Things have been manic getting the first New Slapstick films through post-production.

We are so pleased with the results. And here’s a sneak peek…

You can download each episode for just £1.99

Or, if you’re in the UK,you can get the luxuriously packaged DVD! (A perfect stocking filler!)

While the proper website is being created, here are the links for downloading:

EPISODE 1: http://www.digitalgoodsstore.com/c/KX9uMb

EPISODE 2: http://www.digitalgoodsstore.com/c/OGMWN7

EPISODE 3: http://www.digitalgoodsstore.com/c/jqOIgv

EPISODE 4 (Christmas): http://www.digitalgoodsstore.com/c/T9FGep

I hope you enjoy them! Please let me know what you think.

 

Thanks for all your support over the year.

Chris

Performer Analysis: George Carl

There are better quality clips of George Carl on youtube, but this is my favourite.

The audience is right behind him which gives a great fluency and sharpness to his schtick.

George Carl is probably best known to modern audiences for his role in the film “Funny Bones” as an old variety entertainer who never speaks.

Carl is a fascinating performer to study as he is a direct link from the authentic vaudeville circuit, having begun performing in 1932. His act looks and feels old fashioned, but it’s still great fun for a modern audience. He enjoyed great success late in his career appearing on The Johnny Carson Show – and there is plenty of youtube footage of him on European television.

The greatest thing about Carl is his dexterity – high speed control of hat tricks and getting caught up in wire, mic stand and button holes. His skill is superb, and for most audiences this is enough.

But he also has a wonderful persona – a tiny man with a wizened face – who has a likeability similar to Norman Wisdom and his voice-less performance gives him a Chaplineqsue animal-like quality which is very attractive.

There is a slight problem for modern viewers of Carl’s act. In his pursuit of pace and as a result of having done the same act so many times, he slightly fudges the sense of his routine. There are occasions when he manipulates props in ways that don’t make sense to his character’s situation. He doesn’t always acknowledge events or take time to react to events within the chaos.

I have a feeling that this was not always the case, and that he has lost definition over hundreds of performances. Having said that, the chaos is so sublime that it is enough to make a great act. Having seen some other footage of Carl as a great acrobat, I imagine that he concentrated more on the execution of the skills than on strict adherence to the rules of naturalism.

For me, though, the core of Carl’s success is his persona – his small stature, cheeky face and vulnerability are just wonderful and you can see the years of artistry in his every movement.

IN A NUTSHELL

Use a likeable persona

Enjoy full control of your props

You don’t need any vocal sound to knock out a modern audience

 

We want New Slapstick is a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

 

How to be Wild

Having read Stefan Kanfer’s biography of Groucho Marx, it is clear that the Marx Brother’s greatness comes from performing thousands of shows, day after day, week after week.

This is the case for most vaudeville performers – but I think repetition provides something unique for clowns  – something different to the obvious benefits of practice needed by skills-based performers such as jugglers and acrobats.

I call it “petulant deviation”. Groucho’s wild conversations are great examples of it.

Petulant what now?!

Apologies for making up terminology – let me try and explain myself!

Most performers who have done a show more than 40 times will know that there comes a point when you know it inside out. After that, there comes a period when the performer is so familiar with the show that little cracks start to appear.

Maybe you see things that don’t make sense, or you notice things that don’t quite fit the rhythm of the show. Maybe you get the feeling that there should be more or less emphasis on certain sections.

But more importantly, little opportunities offer themselves up. And as long as the performers stay in character, the theatrical illusion can be maintained to allow some improvisation.

That is what I mean by “deviation”.

“Petulant” deviation occurs when performers are so familiar with a show that they start actively looking for opportunities to improvise. It is often in these moments that real truth can be found in a show. It can also be where performers start destroying a show – the Marx Brothers were particularly good at that. Groucho and family were well known for being wild and unreliable. Their film bosses would insist on a tour of a stage version of each film to “run it in”. This was a great way of ironing out any problems – and testing out new material. But Groucho and the gang were so “petulant” that they would improvise with little regard for the fact that shows would over run by hours.

In his brilliant biography, Kanfer describes an incident where a young starlet who had offended the film company bosses was sent to work with the Marx Brothers as a punishment.

In the clip above, you can see how a pretty straightforward comedy scene may have been expanded through wild improvisation. In the clip below you can see how years of repetition and messing around has allowed Harpo and Chico such effectiveness as comic performers.

As I said before, this process feels quite different from the repetitive practice needed by jugglers and acrobats. It is about accessing a unique “zone” of clowning – the chaos zone, the boredom zone or the messing around zone. If you wanted to make up another piece of terminology, you could call it “finding an anarchic impetus”. But I wouldn’t – it would be too pretentious.

Without it, we have to be satisfied with well-rehearsed, technically accomplished performances.

But, with it, we get that unique wild quality which makes great clowning great.

–

If you want to have a look at the Groucho biography mentioned, click here:

Groucho Book

We want New Slapstick is a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

Performer Analysis: Bill Irwin

It’s strange how a world opens up to you when you start exploring.

In the 1990’s my emerging obsession with visual comedy led me down some bizarre avenues. One of these was buying a book called Modern and Post Modern Mime by Thomas Leahbart. It was such a strange title that I couldn’t resist!

That book was one of those gateway experiences. I could hardly believe the story that mime emerged as a political genre. I thought it was brilliant, but hilarious, that Etienne Decroux suggested that there should be a twenty year ban on speaking in theatre. And I was galvanised by the discovery that there was a collection of performers known as “New Vaudevillians”.

And then, of course, there were the photos. I’ve always been a push-over for a great visual and here were some great publicity shots of performers doing exactly what I thought I wanted to do.

A NEW TYPE OF CLOWN

One of the most striking images was that of Bill Irwin. Superficially, it was just a photo of a clown – a red nose, white face, a crazy wig, baggy trousers and big shoes, and yet, unlike all clowns that I had seen up until then, it had absolute class.

And that is the crux of why Bill Irwin is so extraordinary.

Despite having all the appendages of “creepy” clowns, Irwin’s clown was “done properly”. His make up was faultless, his clothing was made of superior material and somehow the proportions of his costume were spot on.

This attention to detail allowed me to see his clown in a new context. The usual prejudices that I have about circus clowns evaporated. Instead I saw the character itself: authentic, fun – and wild. The possibilities for this clown’s antics thrilled me. What would this character do in a show? What chaos would he leave in his wake? The traditional clown suddenly had meaning for me.

CONTENT AND STYLE

Irwin emerged in America in the 1970s and 80s when circus skills, mime and clowning were enjoying a renaissance. Also emerging at this time was the post-modernist movement. The traditional, familiar structure of circus was good fuel for the post modernists, allowing them a clear, recognisable format to deconstruct.

In 1982, Irwin had a huge theatre hit. It was a bizarre deconstruction of a vaudeville show, “The Regard of Flight”. It includes eccentric dancing, mime, slapstick and ukelele songs. It is esoteric, but it is replete with Irwin’s technical skill.

In fact, it is Irwin’s incredible physical skill that is the core of the show. Again, this was not just a performer who could do the usual tricks. It was a performer who could do these tricks better than anyone else you have ever seen!

ARTHOUSE OR FUNHOUSE

Bizarrely, Irwin is probably most famous as Mr Noodles in Sesame Street – possibly as far from arthouse post-modernism as you could get!

As Mr Noodles, he does a lot of the schtick that made him famous: climbing down the stairs in a trunk and getting dragged off stage by an invisible force. But, again, whereas I had seen many children’s performers do similar things, Irwin was absolute class.

This time, it was the final part of the Bill Irwin package that reveals itself: it is his warmth of personality that wins over the Sesame Street kids.

NUTSHELL

As a performer, Irwin is pretty unique. He is a great physical illusionist because because his skills are so exceptional. He is a great clown because of his wonderful personality. And his attention to detail gives him an alchemistic ability to make the ordinary extraordinary.

This clip shows Irwin’s skill in all its forms. It is from the 2011 dance event Voix de Ville organised by Cori Orlinghouse. Now in his sixties, Irwin puts most younger performers to shame.

We want New Slapstick is a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

Performer Analysis: Dick Van Dyke

I know what you’re thinking: “Chim chimerney chim chim cheroo!”.

Or maybe “Evurrybuddy’s ‘appy win Mahry Poppun’s izintown.”

Or if you’re really young, “Diagnosis Murder”.

But go with me on this, because Dick van Dyke is one of my favourite performers.

Most people wouldn’t think of van Dyke as a slapstick comedian. We’re used to seeing him in very naturalistic TV and film roles. But when you have a good look at his career, in particular The Dick van Dyke Show, you can see that he comes from the classic tradition of slapstick clowns. So in this blog, I’m going to highlight a few of the techniques that he cleverly transfers from circus to sitcom.

On close inspection, van Dyke’s physical style is similar to Jacques Tati – both use their height and long limbs to accentuate normal movement. Both shorten their trousers – and van Dyke even shortens his sleeves – to emphasise movement at their physical extremes. This is a classic clowning trick – just think of a circus clown with white gloves, short trousers, stripey tights and large shoes. These are all designed to exaggerate the movement of the limbs. Dick van Dyke does it too – but with long thin smart shoes and and an ill fitting stylish suit.

Another great trick that van Dyke uses is body isolations. (What’s that now?!) He will often only animate his legs and keep his upper body very still and upright. This contrast of movement and stillness makes for a very funny image. (Think of John Cleese’s silly walk – or even the moonwalk.)

He uses his physicality to punctuate routines and highlight points when he wants you laugh. He uses his long neck particularly well –  sticking it out when pulling a funny face to create a character. By seemingly detaching his whole head from the rest of him – he can snap in and out of the funny face character by pulling his neck back and forth. (Try it! It’s great fun!)

I can’t think of many other performers who execute a physical snap change as well as Dick van Dyke. The best example of this is his drunk routine in the first episode of the Dick van Dyke Show, “The Sick Boy and The Sitter”.

The routine begins at about 19mins 55secs:

Overall then, I think it is his sharpness that really allows van Dyke to bring old fashioned physical comedy into a modern looking show. Audiences love to watch his clean, physical skill and the sharpness of the movement is surprising and funny.

Unlike many who have tried and failed to use slapstick in modern shows, van Dyke’s physical comedy is either dressed up as an “act” (like the routine above) – or, when part of the real story, it is believable and rooted in the character’s emotions.

For all these reasons Dick van Dyke is the perfect modern physical comedian.

THE MAIN POINTS AGAIN:

Contrasting movement in different parts of the body is funny!

Sharp change is funny!

Physical comedy should be consistent with the rest of the show – or clearly flagged up as “an act”.

We want New Slapstick is a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

The Celestial Light of the Silver Screen

Since 2006, the well known UK comedian Paul Merton has shared his enthusiasm for silent comedy in books and television programmes.

I love Merton’s delight for the genre – and he has made it fashionable with a previously skeptical audience.

A few years ago, I went to see Paul Merton talk.

I was expecting an interesting but academic evening. The evening ticked along calmly until Paul Merton showed a Chaplin short accompanied by live music.

It was the proverbial divine revelation!

I had never watched a silent comedy with lots of other people before. Despite working in front of large audiences every day – and constantly saying how silent film comedians used all the tricks of vaudeville clowns –  I hadn’t given any thought to what it would be like watching a silent comedy film with a large audience.

Well, I’m telling you – it was WILD!!!

Suddenly these films burst into focus.

It was like watching the most magnificent stage show. All the timing within the film was built to fit with the predicted reactions of a live audience’s. I heard myself – not just laughing – but shouting out loud, “Uh oh!”, “Watch out!” and “He’s going to get it!”

(This was in no small part down to Neil Brand’s cunning live musical accompaniment.)

It was liberating. You could make as much noise as you liked without interrupting the performers or the rest of the audience.

The only thing similar to it that I have experienced is pantomime. Which is not surprising as both performance styles stem from the same root.

In his recent documentary, “The Birth of Hollywood”, Merton also highlights the “enthusiasm” of early cinema audiences.

During my own shows, I often see this “liberating effect” working on individuals in a crowd. Especially on more “cool”  people (invariably between 21 and 33) who tend to go through a period of resistance before letting the laughter take them over.

Other groups are naturally at ease with the freedom afforded by a wordless show – children have few inhibitions; stressed adults find a great release in “giving in” to the silliness; and old ladies are more than happy to be vocal – I have no idea why!

In my series of short films “The Silly Seasons” I hadn’t really considered that the audience might join in in the same way that a live audience might. But having experienced “The Merton Revelation”, I am determined that my next film will be a real joiner-inner – even if I do have to bribe a few old ladies to hide in the audience!

 

We want New Slapstick is a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

Old moves never die… they just get reincorporated

This week I attended an eccentric dance workshop with Barry and Joan Grantham – authentic music hall performers who have shared a stage with Max Miller.

Before I went I googled up a few eccentric dance videos to see what I was in for.

“Wow… what the heck is this?” I thought. And not in a good way.

Here’s Leonard Barr (Dean Martin’s uncle!) having an eccentric boogie:

When I watch this I am left cold. I don’t really know how to react to it. To me, it’s just plain weird!

So, off I go to meet Barry and Joan…

Things tick along – we learn the famous Laurel and Hardy dance, Wilson Keppel and Betty’s Sand Dance and a very tough Ritz Brothers routine.

To me, much of what we’re doing is natural – a silly version of real dancing. But things are put into context by the reaction of the professional dancers and corporeal mime specialists around me.

To them, these moves are unfamiliar. In fact, I find that although I can’t do the simple jazz step “shuffle-ball-change”, I can easily execute the eccentric dance moves called “knives and forks” and “cups and saucers”.

Suddenly this art form comes into focus.

Belying these routines is a core value that is inherent in all good comedy.

In the same way that good comedy leads to towards one thing and then wrong foots us to get a surprising laugh, eccentric dance is all about wrong footing our expectations of dance.

The weight is wrong, the emphasis is unexpected and rhythms are regularly upset.

So for an early twentieth century audience so deeply familiar with dance, eccentric dancing must have been extraordinarily and excitingly misleading.

Nowadays, when few of us are familiar with the patterns of dance, the eccentric dancing of yesteryear is meaningless.

BUT!

If you watch the modern version of popular dance such as street dance, you can see the same principles cropping up again.

Fans of street dance are thrilled by routines involving offset rhythms and unfamiliar weighting. Isolating body parts are a key part of both eccentric dance and street dance. Moves now known as “popping” and “locking” are present throughout old eccentric dances.

So, maybe, even though this form of dancing might seem dated, it is in fact alive and well, reinvented from first principles, in the most of popular dance of out time.

To finish, here is Sigune Hamann brilliantly executing a section of the sand dance. Enjoy!

We want New Slapstick is a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com

Vintage, Retro and Perfect Imperfection

Maybe it’s because our idols are from an earlier time. Maybe it’s because we are inherently escapsists. Whatever the reasons, a lot of people involved with live performance love vintage.

I was so lucky to be the first clown at Giffords Circus, a beautifully styled, old fashioned, travelling circus. The gorgeous costumes and hand painted waggons are as much a part of the show as the spectacular acts.

Similarly, the burlesque scene in the UK is increasingly defined by its retro costumes. And there is hardly a clown in the western world whose outfit is not, at least partly, a tribute to costumes of yesteryear.

But is there more to it than just love of vintage fashion, or just a desire to recreate our favourite images of theatre and performance?

For me, there is something very specific about the things that we appropriate from the past. It is partly the luxuriant textures of wood, velvet and heavy cloth – as opposed to plastic, polyester and plastic.

But more importantly, many of these vintage items come from a time before the efficient homogeneity of mass production – they are imperfect – and for visual comedy, there is nothing better than something that is imperfect!

To create some good, simple gags, choose a scenario and then find props for that situation which don’t quite work properly. It won’t take too much exploration and repetition to create some good fun.

One of my favourite routines is trying to pick up some old trestle table legs. The trestle legs are a perfect example of an imperfect prop from a bygone age. They have been quickly knocked up in a shed, they have not been designed to be perfect, they have not been designed to high safety standards(!) and they are unique and unpredictable. I also do this gag with modern folding chairs, but it’s just not the same: the hinges operate smoothly, they don’t make a funny clacking noise and, frankly, they work properly.

On one level I love vintage for the timelessness that it allows – an audience can imagine a world undefined by the context of occurring on a specific date. On another level, I love the luxurious materials. And finally and most importantly, it is filled with imperfection, which for a visual comedian, who is looking for things to go wrong, is… perfection!

Is vintage is just about clinging too hard to our influences?

Or does vintage style add something to a performance?

Or is it about something else?

Please let me know what you think!

We want New Slapstick as a resource for everyone involved in visual comedy of any kind.

We’re putting our money where our mouths are and creating films of our own. To have a look at the attempts so far, click here:

http://www.thesillyseasons.com