After taking a suggestion from the audience, Jordan Black and Roy Jenkins begin an improvised scene in which they are playing two exterminators whose jobs are their identity. It plays out for just enough time to establish character, the stakes and relationship before another member of the cast sharply claps from the sidelines, abruptly ending the scene to create a new one from scratch that riffs off the revealed details.
The rest of “The Crazy Uncle Joe Show” unravels as a barrage of rapid-fire ad libs that makes the 90-minute improv show feel like a comedic sprint. The number of storylines begin to stack up by the second, but it’s no one’s job to remember them all.
“Everyone remembers enough,” Black said.
For the last 25 years, the cast — Black, Jenkins, Ted Michaels, Stephanie Courtney, Brian Palermo (when he flies in from Seattle) and a couple of rotating guest performers from the Groundlings — has hit the stage to perform the longest-running long-form improv show in L.A. every Wednesday at 8 p.m.
“It’s five broken brains,” added Courtney.
But the cast (known as “Joes”) never envisioned it becoming a staple of the L.A. comedy scene — they just wanted to make one another laugh.
“I will not do a show unless I think it’s got 25 years in it,” joked Michaels.
Throughout the years, the format has stayed the same: They take three suggestions from the audience, create new scenes and build on it from the initial ideas. Originally the Joes would go for 90 minutes straight, but sometime during its 25 year run, they decided to split it into two acts.
There have been times when they get bored and want to try something different and change it, but they always end up having a bad show that takes them back to the original concept.
“I’d like to offer a change that was not specific, but it was an evolution,” Palermo said, zooming from home. “We just became a lot faster, so each individual scene goes so far.”
“Usually when people get 25 years older, the show goes slower,” Michaels quipped.
After the number of shows they’ve performed, the Joes remain committed because of the amount of joy that comes from performing with each other. Even when they are off stage, the cast gets along and their collaboration goes far beyond the stage — they’re just really good friends who enjoy each other’s company.
Right after the interview, they grabbed lunch as a group. They’ve even created traditions like “Fakesgiving,” their Thanksgiving celebration two weeks before the holiday. And then they spent more than 90 minutes, including a dress rehearsal, exchanging quips and creating characters.
Some of those shows begin to blur into one another, to the point that sometimes the Joes make references to the rehearsal during the show, hoping it will get a big laugh from the audience, but to no avail.
“There’s no money in this,” Black said. “We show up every week and go through traffic and all that because it’s so much fun.”
When Holly Mendel, the creator of the show, put the cast together, she wanted to construct an ensemble that could play together based on who they were offstage.
“These are people who are easy to get along with, who are flexible, and it has been proven she was a good judge of that,” he said. “We still enjoy each other.”
The chemistry can be hypnotic, Chase Rosenberg said. The member of the Groundlings main company has made guest appearances throughout the year with the Joes, sometimes catching themselves watching in admiration and forgetting they were in the show.
“They’re so connected, and it’s so fun to be a part of it and they’re always very gracious and giving in their performance too,” Rosenberg said. “They have been doing it for so long that they have a shorthand, if you don’t get your words out fast enough, they’ve sped past onto a million other ideas,”
Part of that shorthand has been knowing what caricatures come second nature for specific cast members.
Courtney does great old ladies and whining teens, Michaels plays great curmudgeons and Palermo is great at space work.
“The handsome one, I’d probably get that,” Black half-jokingly said.
But their range goes far beyond their strengths. The moment a cast member introduces someone as an octogenarian Russian patriarch, they know exactly what to do and the rest of the cast will follow along.
“One of the great things about all these players is I know I can cast them as anything,” Michaels said. “They can be a little kid, they can be an old man, I can’t stump you guys as far as casting you in the scene and that’s fun.”
Spending 25 years of their lives “yes, and-ing” has also come with lessons that have helped the Joes offstage.
“The Crazy Uncle Joe Show” has helped Black be a good listener in life, heightening his awareness of the world around him. It’s helped Jenkins show sympathy toward people’s different perspectives and Palermo remain focused. Michaels has learned to let go of things, a sentiment that’s shared by Courtney.
“If I come to the theater and feel I need to laugh tonight in that gross way, I just say to myself, before I go on stage, I’m going to make my scene partner look good,” she said. “And that changes the nerves or whatever bad mood or the rest of the week.”
Can the laughs continue another 25 years?
“I think about that all the time because I’m 64 and so 25 years ago when we started, I was 39,” Jenkins said. “And to think, will I do another 25 years, does anyone want to see an 89-year-old man on stage, because that’s how we’ll be.”
“I’m already laughing,” Black said.
The post ‘It’s five broken brains’: The Groundlings’ long-running ‘Crazy Uncle Joe Show’ keeps saying ‘Yes, and…’ appeared first on Los Angeles Times.
