Own your character

Yesterday I related the story of Soupy Sales meeting a clown with a Krusty like attitude.   Soupy explained to the clown how his character could easily be replaced by another guy, with the same make up.

But that’s not necessarily true.  If the studio hired the guy to fill the giant shoes, that’s one thing.  But if the clown owns his character, he owns the trademark to the makeup and costume.  If he were very successful, say like Bozo the clown, he would be in a more powerful position.  He could even license out the image to someone else.  Krusty could have said, “Yeah, but if I am successful, I can hire 6 guys to play me in different cities, and pay each half what I make.  I could make three times as much for doing nothing.”

And it happens.

Here are three guys called “Blue Man Group”

I saw them decades ago off Broadway in NYC.  It was probably the originators of the show.   Would I recognize them anywhere else?  No way.  Now they have multiple shows playing, and those guys don’t put on the blue masks any longer.  They just administer the company.  In fact, Blue Man Group could easily continue after they are dead.

It’s good to own your character.

Soupy Sales meets Krusty the Clown

I am currently reading Soupy Sez the autobiography of Soupy Sales.  Soupy was another television pioneer who had a local “kids” show.  I put “kids”  in quotations because it also became popular with adults.  I’m sure he was at least a partial inspiration for Pee-Wee Herman.

The book is light reading, entertaining and informative about early TV production.  He described sharing a dressing room with performer from another show, who happened to be a clown.  The similarities with the Simpson’s clown character is unmistakable.

I had my own dressing room, but I shared the bathroom and shower with a guy who did a clown show there in the morning…  He had just finished taping when I would come in.  I’d talk with him while he took a shower, and it was fascinating to watch.  It was like seeing a Sherman Williams paint sign come to life.  Clowns wear something like eight different colors of makeup, and while he took a shower the colors would just stream down his body.  I found that fascinating, and one day he asked me what the big attraction was.  “Well” I said, “it’s the idea that you spend all that time putting on the make up and then you get in the shower and the colors all run down your drain.  Your character runs down the drain.”

“Yeah” he said, “but the difference is the people know me as the clown.  When I take off this makeup I can go to a bar, pick up a girl, and I can get drunk and nobody knows it’s me!  But if you do it, they know it’s you.”

“Yeah” I replied “but when you go in for a raise, they say ‘nuts to you.  We’ll pick somebody else up.’  Do you think Ronald McDonald gets a raise? They say ‘nuts to you.  Bring in another guy.’

Well the guy hadn’t ever thought about that and it blew him away.  He was never the same because he was always afraid that if he asked for something they were going to get rid of him.  And you know what, eventually they did.”

I like that story all by itself, but I have some follow up thoughts.  Tomorrow I’ll explain how Soupy missed an important concept. For that click HERE

Commedia Acting Tip: It’s All About the Appetite

Todays excellent link:

Commedia Acting Tip: It’s All About the Appetite.

Adam uses the term “appetite” instead of “motivation.”  I think the word appetite is way better for describing what drives a character.   It’s more visceral, more from the gut.

Commedia Acting Tip: The Ghost of Chekhov

This is commedia dell’arte week here on comedyforanimators. I found some interesting tips on clownlink.com, and will share one a day:

Commedia Acting Tip: The Ghost of Chekhov.

This article makes me want to learn more about the commedia acting techniques, because it sounds much more lively than what has become “modern” acting. In my opinion, “modern” acting lessons would not lead to the creation of a Bug’s Bunny or a Stimpson J. Cat. Here is a great quote from the article:

If you were walking by and saw two commedia actors working on a scene– you shouldn’t think it was part of the everyday street life. You’d stop and take a look, and maybe call the cops about two weirdos acting kind of crazy.

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