Search recent issues

Review info
• About us
• Subscriptions
• Advertising

By Douglass Dowty

It’s certainly not refinement that gives improv comedy its sparkling charm and appeal, though refined practice is the hallmark of any mature act. The Sunshine Scouts demonstrated this to a tee last Saturday in their second show of the year. Though frequently aiming below the belt and skirting political correctness at face value, underneath, their act was an impressive arsenal of complexity, authorship and awareness that only bubbled to the surface in hindsight.

The springboard for their one-hour romp was a varied host of five mini-skits that were recycled and developed – sometimes incestuously – as the show progressed. The eight-member crew exhibited impressive foresight from the start, picking storylines and settings so disparate that only the incongruous, though comedic, potential seemed constant. The outrageous babblings of a crazed Czech man in the opening skit seemed to have little to do with the satiric go-go girl audition that awaited the audience several acts later. The zaniness of the second scene, where an abusive wife forces her gorged husband to take up yoga instead of eating dinner, stretched the boundaries even further. But when the poor husband ends up in Indianapolis in search of the go-go dancer, who happens to have classical dance training from the Czech Republic, it becomes clear that there was more brainpower at work than was let on.

The magic of improv, it seems, is not in the present, which exudes the cheapest thrills and provokes the most piercing giggles, but in the hidden framework that carries and secretly stirs interest in the act. It is one thing to fill an hour with snappy jokes, sexual innuendos and black-and-white humor. It is another to fill an hour with snappy jokes, sexual innuendos and black-and-white humor that engages the audience in ways far more rewarding than most college students’ Saturday night activities.

The secret behind this humor may lie in the simplicity—none of the Scouts’ acts required furniture other than chairs, and every character was human except for the voice of God. While this limited what the Scouts could do, it seemed to fit into their comfort zone. Of the acts, three revolved around marital strife. All of these three portrayed matriarchal relationships, though in no case was the wife completely in cotrol.

The story of one wife, who demands that her husband make more money or she will leave him, has a different demeanor than that of the feminist housewife who rebels against her husband’s old-fashioned attitude. The wife in the first skit, portrayed by first-year Margrit Pittman-Poletta, is a sentimental Latina illegally in America while her husband makes shoes for a living, while the wife from the second skit, played by junior Raphael Sznajder, is a free-spirited, unabashed character who suggests the couple should play a game of chess to settle who’s smarter.

All of the skits contained humor infusing unfailing racial or gender stereotypes with a playful — if often cynical — randomness. During one scene, involving an abusive wife and bloated husband, the husband, played by sophomore Benjamin Sinclair, angers the Lord.

“I will smite you,” God’s voice-over, played by junior David Minnix, says.

“There’s no need to smite,” sputters the husband, who has a fondness for baloney. “My wife told me to do it.”

“Don’t lie to God,” the wife, played by Pittman-Poletta, retorts.

“If I wanted, I could turn that rock into baloney,” God replies. “Baloney that worshiped me.”

After a pause, God declares: “You are going on a sacred quest.”

“Where am I going?” the husband whispers, quavering.

“Indianapolis,” God replies.

Containing popular humor, the show’s comedy may have lacked a polished veneer, something that should be attributed more to the experience and the abilities of the troupe than its execution. This is definitely a performance that should make the Scouts proud. While there is certainly progress to be made in shoring up the bluntness of some of their jokes, none of it seemed contrived or sorely out-of-place.

The joy of improv comedy comes from the sheer chaos of it, including the many times each performance when actors glance at each other, both ready to spit out their next witty line, both wanting to give the other the chance. They open their mouths, let out a syllable in unison, then both croak and wait for the other to take the cue. They are so psyched to perform that they have ideas bursting rapid-fire from their minds. They are on edge, each daring the other person to finish so that they can begin. This is the excitement that gives life to the art form. This is the energy that was projected through the troupe’s performance.

Above all, last Saturday, the Scouts’ dedication and talent for improv comedy shone through.