"A Laughing Matter: Improv at Dad’s Garage"

In the 2003 Best of Atlanta issue of Creative Loafing, the non-profit Dad’s Garage Theatre Company was voted “Best Theater Company” by critics. For anyone who has visited Dad’s Garage, it isn’t hard to understand why. Dad’s consistently offers Atlantans fresh, funny plays, such as their musical adaptation of Stephen King’s Carrie White and the more recent run of former Monty Python Graham Chapman’s Out of the Trees. For many Atlantans, however, it’s the improvised comedy that keeps them going back for more. Dad’s Garage’s annual improvised soap opera Scandal! is a local favorite, as are the Saturday TheatreSports shows, in which the actors take suggestions from audience members and “spin them into comedy gold,” according to the shameless self-promotion on their website[1]. Such praise isn’t just the prattle of Dad’s Artistic Director and Co-Founder Sean Daniels, however—since 1999 Creative Loafing’s critics have consistently honored Dad’s with the title of “Best Improv Group.”

From what fountain of fresh ideas does Dad’s drink to retain such a lofty title? Luckily for Atlanta, Dad’s draws from the varied talents of each of its actors. On Fridays in September, ensemble member Rene Dellefont experimented with an improvised animated cartoon, which was well-received by those who ventured out at midnight to see it. Dellefont’s cartoon was shown in Dad’s Garage’s Top Shelf, their 40-seat black box experimental stage. In the 140-seat mainstage area at 10:30 on Thursdays was an offering from popular Dad’s talk show host Lucky Yates: improvised horror movies.

For four Thursdays characters The Fiend and His Neighbor Wayne, played by Yates and Daniels respectively, acted as hosts of a televised horror movie fest, opening with comments about the “legendary performances” in each “classic horror movie” and directing the scenes from their seats on stage. They achieved their direction by introducing the characters and setting for each scene (which was less for the benefit of the audience than for the actors, who need to know when it’s their turn to improvise) and by determining the end of each scene based off of the audience’s reactions. A hand signal was used to end scenes; lighting director Karen Parsons watched for a host’s arm to wave downward and the stage went black. The lighting during individual scenes was determined on the spot by Parsons, who dimmed the lights or used colored lighting when appropriate. The music was also developed spontaneously by Dad’s musician Joel Abbot. He provided menacing music and falling-in-love music whenever necessary, as well as the original instrumental theme songs for each movie.

Since nearly everything about the performances was improvised, the hosts also participated as audience members and acted on their behalf, often “rewinding the movie," forcing actors to repeat scenes. Replays of especially funny scenes always elicited more laughter from an already howling audience. At times the hosts even replayed action scenes in slow motion, and occasionally they determined that a scene would be performed in Spanish or include a song. More than once the hosts paused the action to announce (to the audience as much to the actors) that the upcoming scene had won one of the “movie stars” an Oscar because the performance had been so painful, or moving, or whatever other adjective they could throw at the actors. This caused audience anticipation and forced the improvisers to stretch their acting muscles to fulfill the announcement.

One of the only preplanned aspects of September’s improvised horror movies was the decade and corresponding type of horror film to be performed. The first horror movie, of the 1950s alien invasion sort, was influenced by suggestions from the audience, which led to the title “The Attack of the Smelly Pickle People.” Once the title was determined, The Fiend and His Neighbor Wayne took their seats on stage left, out of the main area of the action but still within view of the audience. This arrangement turned out to be beneficial not only for the hosts, who needed to see the action to direct each scene, but also for the audience members, who laughed at the hosts’ reactions sometimes as much as they laughed at the main action. The remaining cast members occupied folding metal chairs in front of the audience, which watches Dad’s performances from auditorium-elevated, wooden stadium seating. This placement of the cast members allowed those actors not participating in a scene to experience that scene as members of the audience.

The only other aspects of “The Attack of the Smelly Pickle People” that were planned before the performance were the characters’ names and costumes. The characters were introduced one by one and consisted of Alice Goodhead (Amber Nash), the girl next door who dressed in a poodle skirt and a white buttoned-up top and wore her hair in a ponytail; Ritchie (Travis Sharp), the popular jock who sported a letter jacket and a blond wig and carried a basketball in every scene; The Man From Tomorrow (Matt Horgan), wearing a sequined wig and a blue jumpsuit accented with duct tape; The General (Christian Danley), with pants so big they were tied on, an officer’s hat, and an ever-present megaphone; Johnny Bottlecap (Tim Stoltenberg), the drinking rebel with cigarettes rolled in his shirt sleeve and greased hair; The Scientist (Tommy Futch), wheelchair-powered and wearing glasses and a white jacket with a pocket protector; and finally, the catch-all guy (Spencer Stephens), who entered scenes anytime the hosts demanded a minor character and who changed his clothes depending on the role: a brown shirt for the General’s soldiers, a blond wig and a dress for Alice’s mom, a beard and overalls for a farmer, and a white jacket for the Scientist’s assistant. The Fiend, Yates’s carryover character from the annual Spooky Puppet Horror Show at Atlanta’s Center For Puppetry Arts, wore a crimson smoking jacket and face paint (to make him look gaunt), and Wayne was dressed in khaki shorts and a black t-shirt – fitting attire for a generic burnout neighbor. During one of the first scenes, a previously unintroduced Alien/Scientist’s Creation (Z Gillispie) entered slowly from backstage. His costume was by far the most elaborate of the ensemble – he squatted beneath an upside-down plastic garbage bin that had been relieved of its wheels, was painted silver, and was held on with duct tape. He wore rubber boots and a rabbit head at first; later the rabbit head was replaced with a human head (Gillispie’s own head, of course) wearing pink glasses and a silver hat. His left arm was a silver sleeve, his right arm an aluminum dryer hose. His unexpected presence surprised and delighted audience members so much that the dialog on stage ceased for some time to allow for the laughter.

Dad’s improv fans know that, like the costumes, set decorations and props are usually minimal. The set decorations from the company’s main performance remain on the stage during improv shows, and props are often nothing more than two black wooden boxes. The theatre is housed in what appears to have once been an actual mechanic’s garage; the ceilings are high, and the walls and set are constructed out of plywood and two-by-fours and are painted black. Yet none of this is detrimental to the experience of a Dad’s performance. On the contrary, using few set decorations and props allow both the audience and the actors to focus on the action and the dialog, and most importantly, the humor. Sparse set design and props actually prove to be an asset during improvisation, as improvisers only have a vague idea of what situations they may be in and therefore no concrete idea of what sets or props they may need. Instead, areas of the stage are designated as specific locations not so much by set design as by arbitrary actor decision, and undefined props such as the black boxes serve as various objects throughout the performance. The Scientist’s lab in “The Attack of the Smelly Pickle People,” for example, was always the elevated platform at stage right because the wheelchair ramp was anchored to that platform. As this area also had a table and chair, however, it at times served as other locations in scenes without The Scientist. Stage left, also elevated, had two tables and a chair for this performance and served as such settings as the Fountain Shop and Alice’s house. Center stage remained bare, and the audience used its imagination to transform this part of the stage into the various locations of the schoolyard, the farmer’s field, and the General’s barracks.

The audience for the first horror movie was reasonable for a Thursday night – around twenty people. The remaining empty seats didn’t bother the actors, though – they generated so much laughter that it sounded as if all the seats were full. Most of the humor in “The Attack of the Smelly Pickle People” was verbal, as Dad’s improvisers have an immense talent for quick wit, and some of the funniest moments were when the actors made each other laugh. (It is most humorous to watch improvisers try to stay in character when what they really want to do is laugh at their peers.) During the first half of the performance the audience alternated between laughing at the action on stage and laughing at the actors laughing at the action on stage.

After intermission, during which the audience can buy snacks, soda, or beer, The Fiend and His Neighbor Wayne returned to center stage in order to give away prizes, VHS tapes of local independent horror movies. When Wayne first told the audience he was giving away movies, there was a collective murmur of approval. Next he said that in order to win a tape, an audience member must name three horror movies from the 1950s. Then came a collective silence. Apparently few of the audience members knew three 1950s horror movies. Realizing that the audience was not laughing as before, The Fiend audibly said to Wayne, “I don’t know if I can even do that, Wayne. How will we know if they’re even real fifties movies?” “We won’t!” was Wayne’s quick reply. This exchange relaxed audience members, relieving them of any real test and breaking the silence – thus Dad’s improvisational skills saved the moment, and the second half of the performance elicited as much laughter as the first.

Only after the performance was over and I approached Daniels to praise the performance did I learn that Yates’s horror movie theme would be used throughout September and that the following weeks would therefore yield a 1960s beach party/zombie movie, a 1970s demon-possession movie, and a 1980s slasher movie. The 1950s alien invasion movie had hooked me; I returned each week to experience the rest. At only $12 per performance ($6 if you have a student ID!) there is no better entertainment than an improv show at Dad’s Garage.

Everything about Dad’s is unique, from the sparseness of props to the repetition of certain characters and jokes in later improv shows. (Danley’s The General, for example, was such a successful character that he returned for each subsequent horror movie—each time with his monster-fending megaphone and more general’s stars. Cast members as well as returning audience members appreciate such inside jokes.) The competency of delivering entertaining performances without elaborate sets or props is a major strength of the Dad’s ensemble. The actors provide performances that are, if not entirely believable (Smelly Pickle People?), easy to follow and highly entertaining. It isn’t as though audiences expect Oscar-worthy performances from the improv ensemble – Dad’s audience members go to be entertained. In the process, however, they do realize what exceptional skill lies beneath the humor. In fact, the most impressive element that drives all Dad’s improv shows is the ease with which the actors act together as one improvisational unit rather than as individual actors trying to impose their individual visions for the show on the audience.

This September’s improvised 1950s horror movie generated some of the funniest dialog and situations that I’ve heard and seen since I became addicted to Dad’s humor. As the 2001 Creative Loafing “Best Improv Group” blurb puts it, “The humor may be juvenile at times, but it’s fresh and frantic enough to make you hope the guys at the Garage never grow up”[2]. After that first improvised horror movie, the audience left without any programs assaulting them with sponsors’ ads, without even any details of the show such as character or actor names; they left simply entertained. That is because at a Dad’s Garage improv show, only the laughter matters... and I hope the guys never grow out of that.