The words "Baltimore improv" bring to mind, for the average citizen, certain expectations-laughs, maybe half-decent facilities, among others. One of those expectations is drinks, which any comedy club is bound to offer. This is because people who drink are generally happier, and happier people laugh more. Moreover, comedy shows are usually not presented in churches, because churches are not funny places. Lastly, one would expect funny things to happen. A comedy show is commonly funny, or if not funny, at least light-hearted.
Unfortunately, my experience with the newly-formed Baltimore Improv Group failed to meet any of these expectations, and thus my objectivity was left to suffer. In short, I would rather waste my time watching 1995's The Babysitters' Club movie not once, but twice, than re-experience five minutes of Saturday night's BIGImprov show at Christ Lutheran Church downtown.
The opening act consisted of an hour-long, unscripted sketch by one of the group's sub-troupes, It's not Me, it's You!With the help of audience interaction we witnessed the unfolding of a tempestuous relationship between your standard tough guy, knife-sharpening worker, and his narcissistic yet ethnically ambiguous life partner. In the midst of the fireworks, breaking up for one ridiculous reason, making up, breaking up again, beginning a new relationship between the same two actors, and finally, all four characters interacting in a grand PG-13 melee, I found myself wondering, "Where are the other actors?" A hostess took audience input during breaks, asking for suggestions of a non- geographical location, or an activity. But, besides her refreshing presence, it was just the two aforementioned characters on stage.
The audience contributed such witty outbursts as "he has too many fillings in his teeth!" and, "she does really bad elephant impersonations!" producing momentary ripples of audience excitement. However, an hour is simply too long to watch a couple of people slapdick around, only to finish on a sickeningly heartwarming speech about the effort that needs to be put into relationships.
In particular, I found the company's female actress extremely annoying. Though she appeared to be Indian, she refused to commit her character Constantina to any accent, ethnic backround, or even age. At times juvenile Latina, and at other times old Jewish mother, Constantina was a powder keg of banality. One of the highlights of her creativity involved an imaginary Frisbee, shaved into spaghetti and woven into a T-shirt which was then pulled over her head, all conceived in pantomime. Watching her take off the imaginary Frisbee t-shirt to rekindle the flame with Mike, I realized that I may never laugh again.
Some people were laughing at the troupe's efforts, but I was not one of them. I was in pain. Maybe if I were more of a man, or more of a reporter, I would have stayed past the intermission. In fairness, only two members of the troupe received representation in this review, and the group customarily performs in a more quick-paced, "Whose Line is it Anyway" format. Nonetheless, it was a Saturday night, and to live life in regret is to open oneself to the unmerciful tides of the oceans of self doubt.
Through my tears of boredom, though, I hope to impart some advice upon the reader:
1.The Buttered Niblets are funnier, cheaper, and closer.
2.Shriver Hall is a lovely facility with urinals and sinks of normal height.
3. South Park, Family Guy and Sealab 2021 are very enjoyable shows that one can access without even leaving the home (depending on their cable situation).
4. Pornography is an easily accessible way to enjoy oneself on a weekend.
5. Six dollars worth of drugs buys more laughter than a ticket to this show.
The Baltimore Improv is a group committed to bringing improvisational humor to Baltimore, and they give educational classes to convey the experience of being, "improv'd." About 50 people, mostly families and elderly, arrived last Saturday at the Christ Lutheran Church on 701 S. Charles. Some paid eight dollars for tickets, others six. In my opinion, that money should have been spent on cans of whipped cream.
