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Improv Class, The Boards, Thursday Evening

Once again, a small crowd was gathered in the rehearsal area in the basement of The Boards. Lizzie waited until it seemed like everyone had arrived, and then she clasped her hands in front of herself and spoke.

"Welcome back," Lizzie said warmly. "Last week, we used outside input -- the costume props -- to give us an idea as to characterization. This week, we're using outside input to give us an idea for plot. Because this week, we're making commercials.

"We've put a bunch of random product names into a hat," Jono said, nodding at an upturned top-hat that he'd pulled from the costume racks. "What the hell they're supposed to be, what they do, and how you're intending to sell it to your television audience at home? That's up to you."

This could be interesting, right?

"This week, we're asking you to get creative," Lizzie explained. "Because I promise you, we already have."

Wait until they saw some of the potential products in there.

"Team up, pick a slip of paper, and take a couple of minutes to brainstorm an approach. After that, you're on."

(Open for the Improv Class, and anyone else who'd like to pop in! Posted crazy-early because I can't seem to sleep, and because that seemed preferable to crazy-late.)

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Just like last week, there are baked goods from J,GoB on the sideboard, as well as water, coffee, and tea. Feel free to chit-chat with one another before class starts!

After the library fiasco (http://fandomhigh.livejournal.com/3292789.html?thread=197641333#t197641333) Karina had seriously considered not showing up to improv class. Eventually she’d decided that would be ridiculous because, of everything, Improv might make her feel better.

It certainly couldn’t hurt, when she felt miserable and uncomfortable (and even worse because she was certain she had ruined Evan’s day too which left her feeling guilty on top of it all) to do something that might make her feel better. Still, even with that reasoning, she more slinked rather than bounced in despite Improv being her favorite thing on this island so far.

She took a drink and then wandered over to the side, toying with her phone and wondering if Nathan would mind if she called.

How much would it cost, anyway, to do a cross-world phone call?

Porthos poked his nose into the room and looked around warily. He harrumphed to himself introspectively, straightened his jacket, and strode into the room.

"Pardon me, Monsieur et Mademoiselle," he addressed the people at the front of the room. "Is this the proper location for instruction in improvisational theater? It was recommended to me as a pleasant diversion to pass the time."

Okay, the older French guy was new. How much French did she remember, from high school? This was going to be interesting.

"Bonjour," she said, "wait, no, um, bon soir, monsieur. Je m'appelle Lizzie, et il s'appelle Jono."

That was about the extent of it, right there. But she'd tried, right?

"You're in the right place," she added, dropping back to English with a sigh. "Welcome to Improv Class."

Porthos chuckled heartily. "So you English have not entirely forgotten français after all, non? Thank you, ma belle, for the effort, but I believe we will have a much more productive and pleasant conversation in your tongue than in mine."

Lizzie had the grace to blush at that.

"It's far too beautiful a language to be forgotten," she promised, "even by English types like me."

Was she English? Probably. To him, anyone American counted, she would imagine.

"Welcome to Improv, in either language," she said. "Do you know much about improvisational theater? It's okay if you don't. Class is for experts and newcomers alike."

She just stopped herself in time to not say newbies.

"But of course it is a beautiful language!" Porthos insisted with a broad smile. "It is the beautiful language, the one against which all others must be compared and found wanting!" He gave an awkward cough and hurriedly tried to smooth that over. "I mean no disrespect to you, of course, my dear Lizzie. It is merely that... no, hate me if you must, but the English language will always fall as harshly on my ears as English beer does across my tongue. For that, I am sorry."

He paused, and flailed a little. "Ah, but I forget my manners!!! You have given me your name -- and a beautiful one it is at that -- but I have failed to provide you with mine!" He took a step back and gave her a sweeping bow. "Monsieur du Vallon de Bracieaux de Pierrefonds d'Efferton, at your service. I know something of theater, at least as an observer, and I know much of improvisation, but I know little of the combination thereof."

"I'm not much of a beer drinker, myself," Lizzie said, because that seemed the most palatable way of addressing that. She was glad it was her, and not Jono, meeting the French gentleman; he wouldn't take so kindly to insults to English lagers. "The French language does have a more poetic flow. But at least English isn't quite so harsh as German."

What? She was intrigued by linguistics, and perceptions of languages in culture.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur du Vallon de ..." Wow, that was a lot of names, and it had gone by very fast. But then, she forgot nothing, so she was going to give it her very best. "... Bracioff de Pierrefont d'Effertine. Do you ... have a shorter name, by any chance?"

Just ... asking.

"I am not a beer drinker at all, when I can help it," Porthos agreed. "Not when there is wine to be had. I suppose it is not the Englishmen's fault that grapes will not grow on their island, but that is no excuse for drinking beer. As for the German language, it is indeed harsh -- but I don't know its nuances. One study in the pleasures of polyglotism has been more than enough for me."

He burst out in friendly laughter at her attempt to remember his name. "Just M. du Vallon is sufficient," he explained. "The rest is testament to my vanity, but it can be dropped in all but the most formal of settings. Seeing as how we are friends, however, you must call me by my nom de guerre, 'Porthos'."

"Oh, I grew up in California," Lizzie enthused, "so we had plenty of vineyards. People go on wine-tasting tours. Some people say that they're not as good as French wines, but ... I'm not enough of a snob to know the difference."

Also, she sort of assumed some of those people were just prejudiced, but she shuldn't say that to a French gentleman himself.

"Monsieur du Vallon," she said, gratefully, as that one was much easier. "Nom de guerre ... is that war? Why would a gentleman have a different name for fighting?"

"Is this 'California' a place in America, then? That's good to hear. Every kingdom ought to have a decent wine-growing country." He shrugged. "It is a shame that you can't tell good wine from bad, but I imagine it saves you a decent amount of coin at the tavern, non?!"

He nodded at her interpretation. "Nom de guerre means 'name of war', yes, but you must think of it as more of... a nickname, I suppose. In the King's Musketeers, it is not that strange a thing, and I served alongside a great many men whose family names I never learned." He hooked his thumbs in his belt and beamed down at her. "As an example -- His Royal Majesty Louis XIII has spoken with hundreds of thousands of men, and I doubt that the name du Vallon stands out among them. But were his porter to announce 'M. du Vallon, who calls himself Porthos' -- ah, THEN he would stand up and take note!"

Sit and listen to your theater owner and assistant manager ramble! Munch on some of those pastries. Seriously, get some pastries, they're up in the thread above.

Pair up, draw a slip of paper. Take a minute or two to plan the general angle you're going to use. Here are some of the slips of paper you might find in the hat:

Pine Fresh Deodorant -- it smells like a car freshener!!!
Nosair -- Hair remover for your nose
A picture frame that puts fake glasses and a mustache on whoever is in the picture
A guitar amplifier that plays kazoo noises
No Weigh!! -- the bathroom scale that knocks off twenty pounds!
A cupcake car (http://www.vh1.com/celebrity/bwe/images/2009/10/NEIMAN-MARCUS-GIFT-2-CUPCAKE-CAR.jpg) (Picture included)
Shimmer -- A floor wax AND a dessert topping

Plus many, many other (moddable) insane selections. Feel free to invent your own cracky product, or borrow from a commercial parody you may have seen in the past. (I.e., Colon Blow cereal from SNL.)

... yes, we had fun with this list.

Edited 2013-01-17 10:13 (UTC)

Oh, what the hell. Jono was actually going to participate in the class activity today, since he could actually get up and move about again with little fuss. He might as well, right? There was a top hat with weird products to endorse and everything.

Karina tucked her phone away, promising herself a call to Nathan later (because even if the prices were atrocious, she was pretty sure she could afford it) and wandered over to...

Oh. Great. She seriously hoped he wasn't related to Evan. Going by looks alone, it was possible and that boded badly for her.

But commercial. Right. She could do that. It wasn't like she didn't have experience with them.

"Hey," she said, trying for a smile anyway. "Want to pair up for this?"

Well, technically Jono was both very distantly related to Evan, and also his genetic twin.

.. Don't ask.

"Headwiga, is it?" What? Jono went with what names he could remember, and Karla's name for this one had been rather memorable. He held the hat out toward her. "I'd love to, certainly. Will you do the honours, luv?"

Edited 2013-01-17 23:55 (UTC)

"It's Karina," she said, her smile going somewhat more genuine. "But I'll answer to Headwiga on stage at least."

Because why not, right?

She reached into the hat, looking away from it so she couldn't be accused of cheating and then pulled out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, she burst out laughing despite herself.

Did that guy have a giant mint on his head? Oh god, he did.

"Which--" Jono blinked, leaning forward so that he could peer at the piece of paper she was holding. "Oh, bloody hell."

And yet, he was still smiling. Well, this would be interesting.

"I suppose now the question is, we have another two minutes before we go up onto the stage... do we want props?"

"Do you have props for cupcake cars?" Karina asked. "If so, why? But sure, if you've got them."

If not, they could wing it.

"Well, I obviously don't have a fleet of motorized baked goods in the props room or anything like that, but I think there might've been a showing of Babes in Candyland once upon a time. Or not. I half suspect that the island just filled the costume racks with whatever it thought would be amusing at the time."

Which meant that, yes, there were peppermint hats in the back room.

"Pity," she said, her smile fading a bit. "A fleet of motorized baked goods would have been amazing." It totally would have been, don't judge.

"I think we need props though," because candy-anything was going to help this out, really, "like, hats. Are hats a possibility?"

Could she go look? She'd promise to not get horribly lost in the backroom, Jono, really.

"It's entirely possible that we have hats," Jono confirmed with a smirk. "Good luck talking me into one, but yes. There are hats."

It... probably wouldn't be difficult to get him to wear one, actually. Just some sad girl eyes.

His weakness.

"But you have to!" Karina said, partly because he seemed to expect it.

And partly because he really should.

"It'll look weird if only one of us does."

"Really, though, I look terrible in peppermint," Jono confided, nodding over his shoulder toward the costume room and then heading off in that direction. "The stripes make me look-" ridiculous? "blue."

... Yep. It was the stripes.

"We'll pretend you've got a blue cupcake car then," she said, after a small pause. She hurried to keep up with him.

It seemed like a more tactful thing to say than 'you're already blue'.

"Or maybe yellow. It'd go nicely."

Horribly, Karina. Horribly.

Blue and yellow were great colours for, perhaps, a football team or something. Not so much for cupcakes.

Probably.

"Pink, definitely," he decided. "I think I'd look dashing with pink frosting."

"If that's what makes you happy I'm really not going to argue."

How could she? It would probably be the best thing she'd seen today.

"If you're going pink, I'm trying for purple." Anything but blue for herself. Anything.

"There must be some sort of fancy bonbon bonnet that'll match that," Jono decided, opening the door to the costume room with a chuckle. "It'll be an excellent look for you, luv."

Because, really. A hat that looked like candy.

She could use the sweetening today!

"It can't be worse than sleeping on pears," Karina pointed out. "I'm adaptable."

Ish. Sort of.

... Okay, even Karina had to admit that today had put lie to that notion.

Hey, what Jono didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"I imagine pears would be messy," he mused, heading to the hat rack and pushing a few out of the way, here and there. A chocolate chip, a peppermint, a giant cherry... where did they get these things? Seriously? "Take your pick, then. And you might as well choose one for me, while you're at it. But if it doesn't fit around my big head, I reserve the right to leave it in here."

"Commercial whats, I wonder?" Porthos asked the air as he put a hand in the had and withdrew a slip.

Before he turned away to find a partner, however, he paused to admire the hat. "What a graceful design!" he exclaimed. "What precise lines! What elegance! Ahhh, but I have not seen any such haberdashery upon the streets, and here we are in a theater full of costumes. It stands to reason that this is either foreign dress, or else from some bygone era that I have leapfrogged in my travel through time!" He sighed wistfully. "Ahhh, but if so be the case, then what a shame it is that I could not wear its like while it was yet in style!"

"Top hats never go out of style," Lizzie assured him. "You could wear that now, if you had a formal enough event to attend."

It wasn't like doing the laundry was black tie only.

"And commercials are ... filmed advertisements?" Lizzie cast her mind back. This was one of the few times it helped to have studied the history of mass communication, in that she could make a stab at a helpful parallel. "If you've seen news sheets or bulletins, or newspapers, they probably had advertisements located between the articles. Commercials are like that, but for an audio/visual format instead of the printed page."

"Then I must acquire one," Porthos resolved. "Alas, most of my formal attire is several centuries behind la mode."

He pondered the concept of advertisements. "So... our exercise, then is to, create a short theatrical work extolling the virtues of this..." He looked down at the slip of paper. "... This 'Shimmer', which is both a floor wax and a dessert topping?"

"I think guys have it easier in that respect," Lizzie laughed. "Most fashions are at least recognizable, decade to decade. Women sometimes don't look like the same species."

She glanced over at the slip of paper, wondering how to phrase this properly. "Yes," she started. "It's ... a fictional product? It's a joke. And the work doesn't need to be of high theatrical quality -- so long as it promotes the product and hopefully is interesting to the audience."

Get up on stage and present your fabulous, mind-blowing commercial for your completely insane product.

Who, IC, also enjoyed coming up with the items on those slips of paper.

Jane snuck in near the end, bundled up in cute winter clothes (http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdty1kwENw1rgykxfo1_500.jpg) that she'd never be able to wear in California, and with a small plate of chocolate-chip cookies.

They were for students and their instructors, of course, but Jane wouldn't be playing in class today, no. She was more here to see her two roommates rather than do anything with cupcake cars.

How did Jane always look amazing? Was it a superpower? ... Probably.

Also, she was now running a clothing store. That helped. Maybe she'd help Lizzie get some new outfits.

(Not that Lizzie needed wardrobe help, Lydia.)

"You made cookies?" Lizzie laughed, reaching to pull her sister into a hug. "You are just the best."

"I had to find something to do this afternoon," Jane teased, hugging her sister easily. "And I figured -- everyone likes chocolate chips, right?"

"Absolutely," Lizzie said, nodding her approval. "Especially when you make them. Mine are terrible. You could make mud pies and they'd be edible."

Jono was in a fairly decent mood today, surprisingly. He really didn't have anything hugely important to do. The world, so far as he was aware, wasn't ending back in New York, and his teammates had mailed him a package filled with the components that he'd need to put together a new sonic collar, since his last one...

Well, when he came back to the island in slings and braces, he still looked far better off than it had.

So he was idly tinkering at the spare parts between commercials, though it wasn't quite assembled enough to actually resemble anything in particular. He didn't deal with idle hands well these days. Not since all of his limbs were finally in proper working order again.

I have tickets to see Les Mis tomorrow night!

... look, that's theater-related, it counts.

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Improv Class, The Boards, Thursday Evening

Arrive/Mingle!

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Lecture!

Pair Up and Plan

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The Stage - Annnnd Go!

Talk to Your Instructors

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