The Rise Of The LA Clowns
why do my students look so happy
The best live comedy show in LA I’ve seen was Natalie Palamides’ “Laid.” It’s about a woman who lays an egg every day, and each day wonders if she should raise it or eat it. For a while she always eats it, cooking it on a hot plate right on stage, gobbling it and then crying. Then she decides to raise one and the show really gets going. “Laid” was a revelation — unlike any sketch, improv or stand-up show I’d seen.
The performance I saw was at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre (Sunset branch) in 2016. Though Natalie had taken classes at UCB and was a frequent performer in shows there, it didn’t entirely feel right to describe her as a UCB player. Certainly those of us in UCB WANTED to think of such a talented performer as our colleague and peer and were thrilled when she was described that way.
But everyone in the improv circle knew: Natalie was a clown.
I didn’t really know what that meant. Clowning was a thing I’d here people studying in France, or in very serious theater companies. My uneducated impression of it, before Natalie’s show, was that it was some kinda of outdated mime. I just knew that Natalie ran with a group who developed one person shows very unlike anything my improv/sketch friends did.
I was of course way wrong about clowning. But I bring this up to show how there was a time when you could do improv a million times a week and still not directly run into anything that would identify itself as clowning.
Natalie’s show had a lot of success. Everyone in LA talked about it. It was a smash at Edinburgh. Her next one, “Nate” had even more success.
Because of this, I started keeping an ear out for “clown shows.”
Clowning Explosion
I’d go over to Lyric Hyperion to see a Dr. Brown show (the director of “Laid”) or head to the Clubhouse to see a Chad Damiani show. I started noting on social media that there were clown classes, like at The Idiot Workshop. That was probably all I knew. The improv world in LA felt separate from clowning.
But since the lockdowns lifted, clowning has exploded into the consciousness of the improv world. I’m not entirely sure why. The group of folks who used to run Lyric Hyperion moved over to the new Elysian Theater, which is bigger and seems to run more high profile shows. PDA opened in Altadena and gave a home to many performers who might have been floating around a lot before. So maybe it’s just that there’s more and bigger spaces?
The first thing I noticed was how happy students were when they talked about their clown shows. Improv sounded like hard work when they talked about it, but clowning lit them up. On Instagram, I saw clips of my shyest students on stage dressed as disco balls or climbing over walls or staring at audience members from the stage with crazed confidence.
I heard stories of intense week long workshops, or mind-changing seminars conducted from clown teachers in their 70s, and people flying out to Paris.
I was surprised the students were so happy because a common tale of these classes was how grueling they were, or how intensely a teacher might push them, or how tough it sometimes was to discern what a class wanted from you.
Yet, they seemed excited and inspired.
My friend Jim took a bunch of clowning classes and talked about how it was inspiring him to find new ways to work on stage.
I got jealous! I remember in NYC in the early 2000s when UCB improv might have been having a similar effect on its comedy community. An array of sketch comedians and stand-ups trying to get classes with Ian Roberts to find out what “game of the scene” meant.
But I also got curious and interested. What was it that was drawing everyone?
What Clowning Seems To Be
It’s hard to pin down exactly what “clowning” means. It’s kind of like how “jazz” can describe such an incredibly wide variety of music. What one person calls a “clown show” could be something that looks like a sketch character show, with prepared bits and costumes and wigs. Someone else’s could be a much more improvised show, with almost no costumes or props. Some are very verbal, though silent shows are common too. Some people evolve a specific clown persona, and do the show AS that person. Others use their own names.
Still, if a show calls itself a “clown show” you can bet that a few things will be true. There will be a lot of audience interaction. It will have bits that make you focus you on the present moment, like a sleight-of-hand magic act. It’s usually very physical. It’s often silent for long periods. Even a very verbal clown show seems to be open to periods of quiet. It’s silly. There’s at least some section of it that would make a toddler laugh. It’s at least partly improvised, though they do seem to generally come with a few bits ready.
Suddenly even my casual knowledge of the scene expanded. Instead of just Natalie and Dr. Brown and Chad I saw or at least heard of lots and lots of shows. The Clown Zoo guys who had down outdoor shows over lockdown seemed to be everywhere. Bill O’Neill’s “Amazing Banana Brothers Show” delighted everyone. I love seeing Kevin Krieger’s one-man improvised shows at PDA space. Claire Woolner’s “A Retrospection” blew people away. I learned about that The aforementioned Idiot Workshop was run (founded by?) famed circus/clown performer John Gilkey. Jet Eveleth, who I knew as an iO performer, does clown shows and classes that her students love.
I mention these names not to be comprehensive — there’s at least 15 other teachers I’ve heard of here and there. But I want to show that even I, a dummy, knows a lot more clowning just from, like, being around.
I’ve only done a few shows that are even clown-adjacent. They’ve been fun though I do not feel I know what the audience is expecting. Chad invited me on his Sunday night Clubhouse show, where we did a silent set and resulted in the photo at the top of this article and also this one.
Fun! But also, what?
What It Means For Improv
For improv, will this change anything? My instinct is that clowning would improve someone’s presence and command on stage. They’d learn to enjoy the present moment more. They’d become more conscious of what the audience is giving them. They’d learn to listen to their own true feelings in a given moment more. Improv does all this, too. But my hunch is that clown works those muscles in a different way.
Hopefully the communities meld in a nice friendly way. Some people’s brains will work well with UCB-style “game of the scene” improv, others need the physical presentness of clowning. As with all good art, there’s something to learn from both. Let’s check back in to see how the LA scene is handling it!
Plugs, Fresh
The Sober Show - TONIGHT (Sunday Feb 18) 7pm at the UCB Theatre. Myself and other sober improvisers do a show inspired by people’s stories of drunkenness.
Under The Influencer Show - 7pm Thursday Broadwater Second Stage. I am guesting in this fun improv show where social media influencers tell stories and a group does improv. Tickets available at the hilarious link: https://tinyurl.com/utishow
Plugs, Ongoing
Screw It, We’re Just Gonna Talk About Comics - Comic book podcast, hosted by my brother Kevin and I. We are getting ready to examine the Bendis/Bagley run of Ultimate Spider-Man.
Clubhouse Fridays - WGIS’ weekly improv show. Fridays 7pm at The Clubhouse. Free!
The World’s Greatest Improv School: The improv school I run with Jim Woods and Sarah Claspell. We’ve got classes online, in LA and even a few in NYC!
How to Be The Greatest Improviser On Earth - My improv book, available at Amazon. Kindle or print. It’s a hodge-podge of advice I wrote in 2016 about doing improv. If you’re broke and want a free PDF version just email me and I’ll send it over.
What’s your email addy? I’m broke.