Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: industrial theatre (Page 1 of 3)

Industrial theatre, storytelling, improv news

I am currently working on a 15 minute industrial theatre play around AIDS and HIV awareness. I have written the script and it is really entertaining. It has to be. Audiences have terrible AIDS awareness fatigue. This two-hander has a delicious format, really cute characters, and it is very honest and forthright. It has been commissioned by a client, but I would love to sell it on to anyone who wants to do something for AIDS day on December 1. Let me know if you’d like more info, or would like to book it.

I am also doing beautiful storytelling workshops. Improv and personal narrative come together in this fun, moving and connecting space, where people get to know themselves and each other better.

And of course there is pure improv. You need this in your workspace to revolutionise how you work as a team, be co-creative and understand how important it is to be present and and an active listener.

Lastly, and deeply personally, I am offering tarot readings, either in person or over Skype. Email me to book an appointment for this lovely, focussed look at an area of your life.

All queries on

Improvised Industrial Theatre

Two weeks ago I got an urgent call from a business consultant who was facilitating a big corporate seminar and workshop. She had been let down by a theatre company at the last minute and needed some industrial theatre as an intervention during the seminar. In under a week. Because of improv philosophy I said ‘yes’ first, of course I could help, and then I panicked about the how of it. Fortunately, because she has a theatre background she understood what I was talking about when I explained that a week was too short a time to write, cast, rehearse and produce a 20 minute play, and that I thought it would be a good idea to throw around a few concepts and get improvisers to play with the ideas; an improvised corporate theatre intervention.

She loved it and we spoke about meeting the next day to play with the ideas, messaging and goal of the piece. “Where are you?” she asked. At that moment we realised that she was in Joburg and I was in Cape Town. My heart sank and I started thinking about who I could recommend, but she threw a solution at the problem and suggested that if I knew improvisers in Joburg and could cast them remotely, I could come up and the job would be mine. I did, I went, was supported by brilliant Joburg improvisers, and it was a great success.

And it got me thinking. One of the big problems facing us as industrial theatre makers right now is that businesses don’t have the budget, even though there is the earnest desire. It is challenging to be asked to quote for a piece of industrial theatre when you know the client will be shocked by the cost. Clients expect to pay a couple of thousand R for theatre that in reality costs almost a hundred thousand R to make. I am asked a few times a month to quote and there is almost never any comeback.

So, how about a new product? A theatrical intervention that is explained up front as improvised? This is different from forum theatre, or role play, in that it is purely theatrical, but it is also potentially funny, a great breakaway, meaningful, and also tailor made to the situation. It is improvisation, but for a target group or audience. There is the element of risk, and even ‘failure’, but that is part of improvisation, and part of business. I think there is so much value in an audience being part of that experience. And the dual message is powerful too.

Any takers? Contact me on and tell me what you need.

Thinking Improv

I went to a meeting yesterday to find out what a potential client needed. She had said she wanted improv theatre for a client presentation, but I wasn’t convinced that what she was asking for was improv; i.e. performers making stuff up. I was pretty sure she wanted industrial theatre; performance to support a boring event of power points and speeches.

I was right. She had been handed the notion of improv theatre by one of her superiors, didn’t really understand what it was, but couldn’t let go of the name of the thing. She was great, and responsive, when I explained to her the difference and what I thought she was asking for, but the default name of improv theatre stuck around for the meeting, and I was the one who had to let go.

And so I used the basic tools of improv for the rest of the meeting. I listened. I built on her ideas. We worked as a team. We developed the scene. I got her excited. She got me excited. We were so creative, and funny, and enthusiastic. When we walked down to the parking lot it felt like we had finished a healthy workout.

I am writing our ideas into a concept document and I have all the right improv energy to do it. Love improv. Even when it isn’t the thing.

 

Improv Inspiration

Not that I need it, but yesterday is living proof that improv is the most extraordinary tool and philosophy in the corporate environment.

A few weeks ago I was approached by an international company who wanted to find out about the possibility of doing some industrial theatre at a conference. They had a product (a data system) that needed to be launched, and they wanted us to spice up the launch and make it fun and exciting. After a lovely chat, they were broad minded enough to consider my suggestion that we run an improv workshop/show shop with the delegates (instead of doing rehearsed sketches), and then pepper the presentation with some improvised interventions. (I must add here that the terrifying idea of trying to understand the product and then deliver accurate content around it was the main reason why I wanted to avoid writing a script and then rehearsing the stuff).

Only after I had sold the idea to them did I hear that there were going to be 200 delegates. 200! That is 200 people in a room, 10 at a table, 20 tables.

So when we (three veteran improvisers) arrived at the venue yesterday and started setting up while everyone was at lunch I felt like an imposter. How were we going to pull this off? I shouldn’t have worried. It was magnificent, and energising, and hilarious and potent and unbelievably barrier breaking. It worked. It was amazing. My fellow improvisers Tandi Buchan and Brett Anderson were superb, and we managed to change and charge the room.

Now this is all I want to do, for the rest of my life. So, if you need us, let me know. Send me a line on

 

Acting

These are just a few thoughts, because I am deeply in love with my current cast, who are busy performing an industrial theatre roadshow , and I am reminded how extraordinary actors can and should be, when they are the real deal. And, I consider myself an actor of sorts, an actor amongst other things, but I do think I am in a good position to see what works, and what doesn’t both on stage and off.

Acting is proper teamwork. Unless you are in a one person show that you have written and directed yourself, you have to work as a team, and your goals and desires are shared and the same. Your intentions are all aimed at the same audience and you should have each others’ best interests at heart.

Acting is sharing; usually sharing something special and important with an audience. It is the actors’ job to share that.

Acting is doing something that somebody else told you to do (playwright, director, possibly client) as if it were you that thought it up. This is an amazing thing.

Acting means being sensitive to group dynamics, on and off stage.

Acting is shining a light, but not more brightly than the other members of your cast. Acting is listening to the others, and responding to them, but not during their thing.

Acting is remembering that you are in the business of magic, and the suspension of disbelief needs to be bought into by the whole cast, all the time.

Acting is storytelling, only it isn’t your story and nobody can know that.

Acting is fun, but it is also hard, and if you are a diva, you are doing it wrong.

A simple moment in the chaos

IMG_1847-e1429160928722We opened our Engen Phambili road show in Bloemfontein yesterday. It was a challenging time for me on a personal level; I am recovering from Tick Bite Fever (a result of my gorgeous, irresponsible and crazy week long birthday celebrations), I am deeply shaken by the resurgence of xenophobia in our country and, being a bit of a sick and vulnerable emotional wreck, I weep about it in public. I did that at the breakfast table at the hotel yesterday morning. Also, since the Rhodes Must Fall campaign, my race antennae are buzzing and crackling, and on high alert for the minutest racial issue, to the point where my 90% black cast tease me about it. Bloemfontein might not seem the best place for my personal race riot warning system to go on the fritz, although I am definitely noticing how much more integrated and sorted the inner city of Bloom is.

So, after my gorgeous cast had warmed up, costumed up and miked up they were backstage and ready, and I was sitting in the auditorium of the bizarre city hall (a first time venue for us). It is a huge, traditional space, with funny wall chandeliers, a massive prosc-arch stage and brown leatherette chairs that are mostly on the verge of exploding or collapsing. Add to the mix the red, white and blue colours of Engen branding, stage lights, huge backdrops and a giant video screen and you can start to understand the strange mix of time, place and thing.

The doors finally opened and the Engen petrol pump attendants and cashiers (some from as far away as Welkom and Lesotho) started filing in. There is always a buzz of excitement in the air when people take their seats. It has been 10 years of exciting, entertaining and fabulous roadshow.

When the flood of entrants had become a trickle, and people had started filling in the back rows of chairs I saw three white young men in cashier uniforms enter. None of the other petrol pump attendants or cashiers in this audience were white. I noticed them choose seats in the back. I thought about them for a moment and wondered what their world might be like; three white men in a previously entirely black domain, unglamorous and basic employment that it is. Then, further along into the venue, and a few rows up from me a young black petrol pump attendant stood up to have a look around. It was clear that he was sitting with the rest of his team, colleagues and friends from his forecourt, but his searching was for someone. He did a full circle and finally saw the three white guys behind him and in the corner, and turned to give them a questioning thumbs up, a wordless ‘are you guys ok?’. They waved back. ‘We are fine.’ And I, for the second time that morning, cried in public.

That moment of care, of unselfconscious humanity has touched me more deeply than the shouting. And I will hold onto it so tightly in these disturbing, crazy bad times.

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