Feeling at a loss, but not for words
Colin Mochrie, The Toronto Star, April 9 2006
One of the perks of working as an improviser is that one doesn't actually have to do any work. You arrive at the theatre a half-hour before the show, have a coffee, go on stage, get the audience to give you suggestions, mug and shout, then bam! You're done. It's a great gig for a lazy person, and I am very lazy. So the thought of actually having to sit down and write 600 words (we're now at word 84!) filled me with dread. But what the hell ... at least I can do it sitting down.
This Sunday at the Winter Garden Theatre, the Sketchersons — one of the funniest sketch groups in the country — are celebrating their 100th Sunday Night Live! show. Special guests include The Royal Canadian Air Farce's Don Ferguson, Lucy Decoutere of Trailer Park Boys, Toronto Argonaut John Avery and many others, one of whom is yours truly. So I was approached to write a short article publicizing the event.
When Sketcherson Gary Rideout asked me to be a part of the evening I was hesitant at first. This is an extremely busy touring time for me and in fact I fly in from Green Bay this afternoon for the performance. However two things changed my mind. First off, I love The Sketchersons. I had the pleasure of doing a show with them earlier this year and had a great time. Yes, I am jealous that they are all young enough that they could be my children. (One of them is actually my child, but I just realized it may be bad form for them to learn that fact from reading this article. So ... just forget I said anything.)
My second reason for doing the show was more personal. The proceeds go towards helping the Heart and Stroke Foundation. Both my father and my mother-in-law were stroke survivors. My dad was fortunate to receive excellent care right away and suffered no permanent aftereffects, save a tendency to be more emotional and sentimental. Which, as aftereffects go, is very nominal.
Unfortunately, my mother-in-law's stroke was not diagnosed right away and she lost some use in her left side and now has to get around in a wheelchair. Other than that, though, she is healthy and comments on how she has been luckier than others she has met at her stroke group.
The Heart and Stroke Foundation is a leading funder of heart and stroke research in Canada. That research leads to earlier diagnoses, leading-edge treatments and prevention strategies. So you can see why this particular cause would be important to me.
Two weeks ago, my father passed away due to causes not related to his stroke. I am thankful that in the last years of his life he could spend time with his adored grandchildren, that he was able to garden, travel and have quality time with my mom whom he loved dearly ... all in reasonably good health. This was due in no small part to the efforts of his doctors and the stroke experts that Dad consulted regularly. Every heart and stroke victim deserves no less. Funding for the Foundation could help maintain a higher quality of life for a great many people.
So I would just like to remind you that tonight at 7 at the Winter Garden Theatre you can enjoy the comedy of the Sketchersons and support a great cause at the same time.
Well, that's all I'm going to write. I need a nap. Oh, and if you're counting, we are now at word 596. Yours truly,
Colin Mochrie
Gladiators and Coconut Cream Pies
Colin Mochrie, The Hockey News, October 2005
I have been disgruntled with hockey of late. In fact, I have a hard time recalling the last time I was gruntled. I feared for the future of the greatest game on earth.
With the constant hooking, obstruction, New Jersey Devils, etc., the game has become as slow as Paris Hilton doing a TV Guide crossword. As a man who constantly tries to sell the game to non-fans (a NASCAR enthusiast friend told me he thought hockey is boring – this from a guy who watches cars drive in circles for hours!) I have found it hard to muster up any kind of following, especially in the past year.
But now the lockout is over and rule changes have been implemented, I’m feeling quite optimistic hockey will rise again. I even have historical precedence for thinking so.
I refer, of course, to the gladiator strike of 38 B.C. During the height of the Roman Games, the gladiators went on strike asking for more money, fewer beheadings and shorter post-battle interviews. Immediately, the fans were against the warriors. Mainly because Caligula, who was in charge, was nuts and was ruthless in dealing with insurrections (and he wasn’t even a New York lawyer).
The strike was settled quickly and in an effort to bring back patrons, rule changes were implemented. There was a salary cap of four drachmas a year (which, allowing for inflation, is the same as the average Bruin player’s paycheck). In previous years, some lions were dyed red in an attempt to make them look more ferocious. Unfortunately, the dye would make the jungle cats groggy and lethargic, slowing up the eventual carnage. After the strike, they got rid of the red lions to speed up the Games.
With rules like these and some equipment changes (gladiators were allowed to curve their spears for extra throwing speed), the Games surpassed their former glory. Well, until the Roman Empire fell, then the Games stopped and gladiators went to Sweden to find work.
The parallels to the recent NHL situation are amazing, so why not take a page from the Romans’ playbook and go for it? For example:
1) Tie games have been abolished. Shootouts are exciting, yes, but how about this? The overtime starts with 4-on-4, but one of the four has to be the team’s GM. The excitement of overtime hockey is now compounded by the fact a player could now be creamed by a teammate he screwed in contract negotiations. Now that’s overtime tension!
2) Each team should be forced to put two monkeys in the lineup. I don’t know the reason why, but any venture that includes monkeys dressed as humans ends up being wildly successful.
3) Fining players for diving, or suspending them for starting a fight in the last five minutes of a game is all well and good, but really, is that a deterrent? The “fine” is usually a pittance to those players and a suspension is nothing more than a little holiday. I say we get ruthless. What will stop these wayward rascals? Homework! Have repeat offenders write a 5,000-word essay on what they did and why it was wrong. Then the essay is to be read aloud during the intermission. I guarantee these incidents will stop.
4) For chronic hookers and obstructionists, a more horrific fate. Since they slow the game down to a crawl, I believe in an eye for an eye. Instead of a two-minute penalty, make the minutes crawl by for them by forcing them to perform as the team mascot for the remainder of the game.
Have them out among the crowd starting the wave, throwing out promotional t-shirts, etc. As someone who has supplemented their income by dressing as a rooster and handing out flyers for a fast-food chicken place, I can assure you that time passes slowly, giving you ample opportunity to ponder “What have I done to deserve this?”
5) The shrinking of goalie equipment is a good idea, but once again it doesn’t go far enough. When I was a kid, those of us who couldn’t afford shin guards would lace up an Eaton’s catalogs. Make NHL goalies do the same, but with Victoria Secret catalogs. Smaller pads will help the game. Plus, it adds a little sex appeal.
These are just a few ideas off the top of my head. Others include flaming crossbars; hitting the losing coach in the face with a coconut cream pie; and, a conditional bye into the Stanley Cup final for the Boston Bruins (what can I tell you, I’m a fan). Of course, I don’t expect all these rules to be passed immediately. But then again I didn’t expect Tampa Bay to win the Stanley Cup so soon, either.
Getting Along Famously
Debra McGrath and Colin Mochrie, Actra Performers Magazine, Winter 2005
Since finishing our pilot Getting Along Famously, which aired on January 10 on CBC, people have asked us "How do you put together a show that you can be proud of?" Uh...we don't really know. We tried to ask the same thing of Brent Butt following the success of Corner Gas but he wouldn't retrn our phone calls.
Here are twelve steps that we followed:
1) Marry someone you love deeply and hope they're talented.Okay, this one sounds easy but it's actually the hardest step to accomplish.
2) Do an improvised movie together and bond with the director.Deborah Day (henceforth known as Deb D.) hired us, Debra McGrath (now Deb M.) and Colin Mochrie, to be in Expecting, an improvised movie. Hiring a couple for a project can be a dangerous proposition. Remember Gigli? Working with a spouse 12 hours a day with the added stress of having to make up the dialogue could easily have been a living hell. It was just the opposite.Colin: I admit I was a little nervous. What if we had no chemistry together? We were playing ex-lovers who might still have feelings for each other. What if what we had in our real life didn't transfer? Luckily it worked out. In fact the two Debs and I had such a good working experience that we decided to collaborate on something else.
3) Form a company and make certain that at least one of you has drive. Every once and a while, we would see breakdowns for movies being cast in Toronto. On the script would be the words: "All ethnicities welcome" and just before that "No Canadian Accents!" Canadian Accents would be the name of our company. Now all we needed was a project. We brainstormed over morning coffee and teas and canoodled over evening wine. Finally we came up with a concept that all three of us felt good about. Then Deb D. made us go to Banff to do a pitch session at the conference. In case you haven't picked up on it, she's the one with drive.I don't mind telling you that we cursed her from here to next Tuesday over Banff. I'd love to tell you that when we got there it was wonderful and we forgave her instantly. It wasn't. We didn't. The good news was we got lots of interest in our team and our idea. The bad news was we now hated the idea.
4) Always go with your second idea!The main problem with our original concept was that by the time we got to Banff, it just didn't inspire us.Colin: As soon as we were confirmed to pitch Bab's Way, our original idea, Deb M. came up with a show about the most famous Canadians in the world who host a CBC variety series in 1964. I immediately fell in love with it and knew that that was the show I'd want to pitch.Colin and I love that era. I thought; wouldn't it be fun if we were a showbiz, married couple! A Richard Burton/Elizabeth Taylor dynamic with musical talent. We could do a behind the scenes like Larry Sanders and have full out variety numbers in the show within a show. We picked 1964 because it was the time where "ring a ding ding" met "Yeah Yeah Yeah!"But Bab's Way was green-lit as our pitch and we weren't allowed to change. So pitch it we did and, although there was interest, we had already become too excited about the possibilities of Getting Along Famously. We went to CBC to pitch our new and improved idea to George Anthony, who very sweetly said "Thanks for not pitching this one at Banff."
5) Have a man named George Anthony on your side.We told George the concept in a couple of sentences and he almost immediately gave us a green light that very day to go into development. He also felt that to get the style across, an hour pilot would serve the project better. While we waited for official approvals, we rented a grown-up office and painted it and everything. Eighteen trips to IKEA, 40 computer glitches and several signed CBC documents later, we were ready to write. This is where it got hard.
6) Have someone join the team that will do all the stuff that gives you hives.Before we got into negotiations we had to have a lawyer and all round businessperson. Enter Kathy Avrich-Johnson. God bless her. She did all things that we couldn't and, quite frankly, didn't want to do: negotiations, contracts and the like.The team was now in place. Now it was time to get a pilot together.
7) Friends are for your own personal use.Colin: At this point, for some reason that escapes me now, I volunteered to write the pilot. Looking back I can only think it was the insane reasoning of someone who doesn't know better, or the insane reasoning of someone who actually is insane. I despised every miinute of it. Coming from an improv background where you just said whatever popped into your head and making sense was not mandatory, having to create something that had structure and had to make sense was hell. Alex Galatis had joined us as story editor and his tips on structure helped immeasureably. My other saving grace was when I envisioned our dream cast, I started to get a grip on the characters.For the role of Lyle Delp, Ruby's assistant, we wanted Bob Martin, who had been with the sketch group Skippy's Rangers. He is a friend and a much sought after actor-writer. The only problem with getting Bob was that he is a much sought after actor-writer. In addition to co-writing Slings and Arrows for TMN, working on Puppets who Kill and other projects too numberous to mention it seemed likely that he would not be able to do it. Doing any kind of project requires a bit of luck, and for Getting Along Famously fortune smiled upon us. Not only was he able to do the pilot but he helped shape it during a two-hour meeting he had with Deb D. and Colin.Colin: The writing actually became easier, especially now that we had our dream cast. Besides Bob, we had Patrick McKenaa, one of our best friends and a comedy genius, to play Littleman; Ed Sahely with whom I had been in Second City, was Ed, the director of the show within the show; Cheryl MacInnis, Deb M.'s best friend since Ryerson College days was cast as Phyllis "the hair woman' and as her sister: Barbara Radecki, with whom we did Expecting. The cast filled out nicely with the addition of Robin Duke as the head writer of It's Ruby and Kip (the show within the show).The smartest thing we did, (when I say "we" I mean the other members of Canadian Accents), was making the decision to have a read-through with the cast at each new draft. I was having trouble with the character of Littleman and it was really bothering me. Here we had one of the most talented comic performers in the country, a close personal friend; and I had written a part for him that was just ... not ... funny! Until the red through. I still don't know what he did exactly, but in that room at the CBC as we all stumbled through the script Patrick made gold out of crap (gold out of crap ... this is why I'm not comfortable writing). In fact, everyone went above and beyond the call of duty and even characters that I thought were fully developed went in directions I hadn't foreseen. It was incredible to watch these people, our friends, make those words come alive.
8) There is no problem that can't be solved after initial panic.Almost immediately problems arose. We didn't get the funding we counted on, the popularity of our cast was causing scheduling problems and our offices weren't close to any Starbucks. Of course, all was solved in the end (even the Starbucks). The CBC really came to the rescue by upping their contribution to the pilot and giving us a studio to shoot in and a crew to work with. Debbie Bernstein at CBC was instrumental in this part of the story. She understood the show from the very first reading and stayed with us. She was nothing but supportive and really brought us to our pilot funding scenario. Which brings us to rule number 9.
9) Make sure your crew is equal to the brilliance of your cast.We lucked out in every department on the crew side. From our D.O.P, the amazing Gerald Packer, to our hair and makeup department Sue Upton and Lucy Walsh, we had a crew that was not only working on a very tight budget, but a crew that was giving 110%. Our wardobe mistress Kim Gibson went to the wall for us, searching for clothes that fit our characters to a tee; literally and figuratively. Through her, we utilized the extensive wardrobe at the CBC. Kim was bringing in her family's jewels for me to wear and in fact many of the crew in set decoration and props raided family treasures to adorn our set.My favourite day was when we shot the big production numbers. The whole studio was transformed into a 1964 variety show and the crew had a best-dressed 60's contest.All of the crew were very supportive of the project and were easy laughers, something that is invaluable to all neurotic actors, directors, producers and writers.
10) Let the cast do what they do.The beauty of hiring friends who are talented is that you trust them to fix whatever problems may be in the script. Add to that Deb D., a director who gives you the freedom to try out even the most bizarre ideas. Although in complete control, Deb D. gave the set a collaboratie feel. Everyone had input into his or her characters and scenes and, without fail, everyone improved what was on paper. Then there were the dance numbers.We had the beautiful, talented Donna Feore as our choreographer who nailed the style and made the production days the most fun I have ever had on a set. Every time she would come up with a step idea, she and the dancers would laugh and then do it to perfection . As cheesy as the steps were in that era, they had to be performed well. This was to be an homage to the era rather than a parody. Donna also knew that my character Ruby had to act like a star of that time: let the dancers sweat, the star just glows.Colin: The only problem working with these people is that they all set the bar so high I felt enormous pressure not to suck. Having worked with Patrick at Second City for years I was ecstatic to see that we fell happily into our old rhythms and our scenes together were some of my favourites. He has a moment in the show that seems to effortless that the technical difficulty is completely obscured. In our scene we are walking down a hallway discussed a major plot point. The status of our character changes back and forth. I get the upper hand, then he does and so on. Background performers (once again all of them perfect) are going in and out of the shot as I set up Patrick's joke, he is handed a form to sign. Somehow, and I'm not really sure how he did it, in the span of three seconds, he savors getting the upper hand, signs the form, waits until the background performer passes us and delivers the punch without any time being wasted - I hate him.
11) (there is no rule eleven but twelve steps sounds better.)
12) Hope for the best and mention the air date as often as possible.We are all very proud of what we ended up with. The shoot went off with minimum fuss. It was the most fun we've ever had on a production and it has led to other projects for Canadian Accents; a feature film with Patrick and Colin and a series with Chas Lawther. We hope you watched and enjoying Getting Along Famously. It aired on the CBC, January 10
Lower Case Celebrity
Colin Mochrie, Razor Magazine, October 16, 2003
Here’s a quick pop quiz. What is the absolutely most incredible experience a person can go through in their life?
a) Falling in love with the perfect person and having a long, happy, fulfilling relationship.
b) Witnessing the birth of your child and nurturing said child into a functioning responsible adult.
c) Winning the lottery and experiencing a financial freedom that impacts all other areas of your life
d) Becoming a minor celebrity.
Of course, the answer is, without a doubt, D. Falling in love is great, but maintaining the relationship involves a lot of work. Children . . . once again . . . great, but they’ll always forget you and break your heart. And no matter how much money you have, it always disappears like a friend during a drug raid. Minor celebrity hood, on the other hand, is a joy, forever. Celebrities live 45 percent longer than regular people; minor celebrities live 14 percent longer that. Minor celebrities receive over $25,000 worth of free merchandise (meals, clothing, etc) a year. Minor celebrities marriages last 12 percent longer. Minor celebrities are 35 percent less likely to die from cancer and minor celebrities have a 93 percent chance of appearing on some game show.
Sure, I made up all these statistics, but I think you get the point. Minor celebrityhood (celebrityism?) is a pretty good gig. Take me for example: Even in the fanciest restaurants I get free meals; I get upgraded to first class; and I’m always first choice for the celebrity fueled reality shows that would kill the career of an actual star. Why have I been singled out for preferential treatment? Have I made a medical break though that will reduce the suffering of the sick? Have I come up with an economic theory that will narrow the distance between the very rich and the very poor? Have I improved the quality of life on this planet in any way? Come on, get real, I get singled out because I am on television. I get free stuff that I don’t actually need because I am on television. Hell, I even get to write article for big glossy magazines, not because I’m known for my biting satirical essays or because I am a witty raconteur, but for the simple reason I am on television. And I’m not even on a very successful show.
Through my incredible cunning and, I have to admit, some blind luck, I have become a celebrity. Not a Celebrity . . . a celebrity. A lower-case star. And as an added bonus I have figured out a way to make money from it; I am starting a course on how to become a celebrity. Everyone loves spotting celebrities on the street; even if it is someone you don’t like, you can always point them out with the kind of excitement reserved for PRICE IS RIGHT contestants. The only thing better than seeing one is being one and let’s face it, at this point in history, pretty much anyone can be a lower-case celebrity, or an L.C.C. Andy Warhol said everyone will get their 15 minutes of fame, which is a bit of exaggeration. In today’s attention-deficit world, you’re lucky with five minutes.
So, how do you become a L.C.C? Of course, you would have to attend my three-week course to get the full benefit of my wisdom, but I can give you a few hints. Of the many avenues open towards becoming a L.C.C. there are two you should avoid: killing a spouse and performing oral sex on the president. Yes, you get your name in the papers, but there’s always a bit of negative connotation to these methods. Of course, fellating the president, then following it up with a minor television show is much better, but let’s face it, these are not options that are readily available to the average person. At this point I must stress the difference between being a star and being a celebrity. To become a major star you need talent, looks a certain amount of intelligent and the elusive “it” factor.
To become a celebrity you don’t really need any skill at all. Talent is actually a hindrance. I mean, who would you be more excited to see walking down the street: Jeremy Irons or Zsa Zsa Gabor? In my humble opinion, Zsa Zsa Gabor is the number one celebrity of all time. More people could point her out than could Iraq on the atlas. Everyone knows that she has been married many times, that she is Hungarian and that she is the sister of Eva Gabor of GREEN ACRES fame. Apparently, she is also an actress. I am a hard core trivia buff who could tell you the full character names of everyone on GILLIGAN’S ISLAND and even I would be hard pressed to name a film from the Gabor oeuvre. Zsa Zsa’s talent was in knowing how to handle the press. When time would go by without her name in the papers, bang . . . she would get married or slap a cop. Sheer brilliance.
Luck, unfortunately, plays a part in being an L.C.C. Once again, let’s use me as an example. When WHOSE LINE IS IT ANYWAY? debuted in the summer of 1998, it was a ratings hit. If ABC had played its cards right, who knows what could have happened? Luckily, they scheduled us against FRIENDS (the most popular sitcom in the last 10 years) and SURVIVOR (the first and most watched reality show.) Whew! The right time slot could really have screwed up my L.C.C. standing. Anyway, at my three-week course (which, by the way, is a very reasonable $800) you will learn the 45 simple steps required to become a celebrity, covering everyithing from how to dress, to what not to say when your country goes to war. I'd like to tell you more, but I’m expecting a call from the producers of CELEBRITY FAMILY FEUD. Life is great
Me, Myself & I (Colin Mochrie Talks to Himself)
Colin Mochrie, NUVO Magazine, Winter 2001 *** WINNER
Okay, so I’m having lunch with Steve Martin, Woody Allen and Jim Carrey. Steve turns to me and says, “Colin, my genius friend, how did such a modest, retiring man as yourself become a Canadian icon and a major US celebrity?” Then Woody says, “Yes, as an avid fan of your work, I too would like to know how it all happened for you.” Then Jim pretends he is choking on his salad and we all laugh. We regain our composure and I am about to answer when Ann-Margret runs up, plants a big, wet kiss on my lips, and tells me she loves me. Suddenly my green beans begin to dance, stopping only long enough to tell me that although they think I’m amusing, I should do more characters and perhaps get a day job. Then I wake up.What does the dream mean? Who cares? I mean, the green bean thing is disturbing, but it is not important.
The important thing is that the dream has celebrities in it. Everyone wants to know about celebrities. Everyone wants to see celebrities. I know this from personal experience. As I walk down the street, I hear excited whispers: “Look, it’s what’s-his-name from ‘Whose Line Is It Anyway,” “Look, it’s the bald guy from ‘What’s My Line?” “Hey, it’s Peter Mansbridge.”Since “Whose Line” debuted on ABC in the summer of ’98, I have been unindated with tens upon tens of fan letters. I even had a stalker for a while, until she realized she had me confused with the golfer Colin Montgomerie. Last I heard of her, she was sending Nanaimo bars to Colin Powell.
Because of this overwhelming interest in me and my life, I thought I should write a book to satisfy the public’s keen curiosity. My life and I are very closely linked, although there was that one time we had a falling out and my life went to the Bahamas with somebody else. Anyway, that was a long time ago, and things are fine now. But I digress. Upon further consideration, I realized that writing a book takes a long time, not to mention a lot of work, if you actually do it yourself, so instead, I came up with the idea of a pamphlet. Which, when you think about it, is a much better idea. Pamphlets fit in any size pocket and often get left on buses, subways, dumpsters, where people can pick them up and peruse them at their leisure. Thus they reach a much larger audience than your average book.The following is an excerpt from my pamphlet, with answers to some frequently asked questions. Please remember that this pamphlet is copyrighted and may not be reproduced without the prior written consent of the National Hockey League. I don’t know why.
Where and when were you born?
I was born November 30, 1957, in Kilmarnock, Scotland. I am told that my first reaction to the world was to urinate in a perfect arc into the doctor’s eye. I still get a little nervous during my annual check-ups. So does my doctor.
Do you remember when and where you got your first laugh?
Yes
Can you be more specific?
Let me paint a picture for you. The year is 1974. I am sixteen years old and standing in the wings of the auditorium of Killarney High School in Vancouver. We are performing the timeless classic The Death and Life of Sneaky Fitch. I am playing the part of Mervyn Vale, the undertaker, and my cue to enter is approaching. What am I doing here, I ask myself. I’m in my third year of taking science courses so I can fulfill my dreams of becoming a marine biologist. So why am I here, terrified, about to go on stage before friends and family? I am not an actor, never thought of becoming one. Damn Roland Rossman for daring me to audition for the school play! Damn Mr. Maunsell for casting me! Damn me for thinking I can do this! My cue comes. I take a deep breath and make my entrance. My first step rips the seat of my pants. Luckily, my coat is long enough to cover it, although the sudden breeze to my posterior unnerves me. But, the show must go on; I walk out on stage. Well, when I say “walk”, it was actually more of a strange limp, because I have tucked the seat of my trousers into my buttocks, and am clenching with all my gluteus maximus might. I do my first bit of business. The crowd laughs. A big laugh! A feeling I have never experienced before rushes through my body! My heart pounds, my nerve endings scream. I love it! Screw marine biology!
Was the guy who said on his deathbed “Dying is easy, comedy is hard” right?
Yes. Everyone dies, but not everyone has a good ten minutes on airplane food. It has always disturbed me that comedy never seems to get the respect it deserves. I suppose it is because there seems to be a surplus of funny people – the one who can tell a good joke, the one who gets laughs rolling at the kitchen party, the one at work always ready with a quip. Nothing against those people, because usually they are funny; but it is an entirely different thing to get laughs from friends and to get laughs from an audience which has paid money to be entertained. And don’t even talk to me about getting laughs from friends who have paid to be entertained. Humour is such a personal thing that to get an entire audience to laugh at the same thing is extremely difficult. Take a poll of twenty friends to see what they find funny and it ranges everywhere from “Frasier” to “Married With Children” or from a convoluted Shakespearean pun to someone being hit in a sensitive area by a baseball. This is a wide range of styles in which to find common ground, althought the sight of someone falling to the ground in pain after a smart whack to the genitals is universally a guaranteed chuckle getter.
Who or what makes you laugh?
John Cleese, early Bob Hope movies, Jack Benny, “The Dick Van Dyke Show,” “The Andy Griffith Show,” “All in the Family,” Woody Allen, Steve Martin, and the guy who told me my entire house could be renovated in three months.
Why do you look so much better in person?
The camera adds ten pounds, takes four inches off your height, and doesn’t always photograph hair. Which is why my fans are sometimes taken aback when encountering a 6’2” bronze god with an afro.
What is the definition of the word “lecanoscopy”?
Lecanoscopy is the act of hypnotizing yourself by staring into a sink filled with water. You would be amazed at how often I am asked that question. Thank goodness for the Canadian education system.
Do you have any tips for young people who want to get into this business?
I have five rules that have helped me. Use them or ignore them. I really don’t care. To tell the truth, I don’t need the competition.
Rule #1: Develop a Health Ego and a Thick Skin
Being in comedy is a study in extremes. There is no high like it when it works and no more excruciating low when it doesn’t. Having gone through both, I can confirm that the high is a lot better. Once I had to dress up as a giant chicken for a fast food franchise and be transported to a radio station in a VW Beetle so the DJs could make fun of my legs while I clucked pathetically. It was only afterwards that I wondered why I had to wear a chicken outfit for radio spots. Still, that was better than being attacked by a Doberman as I was handing out flyers. It was tough to stay in character.Rule #2: Do It Often and Anywhere You Can
This rule actually applies to two of my major interests, both of which garner big laughs and applause. You may want to write this next part down: the thing about comedy is you need an audience. Not only to find out if other people think you are as funny as you think, but also to help you hone your craft. The more you perform in front of a crowd, the more you learn about how to take control of the stage. I would recommend crowds of six and up. Significant others grow tired of comedy fairly quickly.
Rule #3: Stay With It For As Long As You Can
Sooner or later the other guys quit or die.
Rule #4: Lots of Luck is Important, but Be Ready When the Big Break Comes
The most hated of rules. People think hard work will get you anywhere. Heee heee heeee. Good one. It is possible, of course, to have hard work pay off. I have known many people who have advanced through hard work and perseverance. But one of the main ingredients in achieving a successful career in comedy is luck. I have been incredibly lucky, getting at least two breaks. My first performance on “Whose Line”…how can I put this? Oh, yes – it sucked. I met the other improvisers two hours before we shot the show. I totally psyched myself out. Before the show, producer Dan Patterson said “Colin, if the show goes well, you can do the Sunday show tomorrow.” After the debacle, he said, “So you leave on Monday, do you?” Then came my second big break. They were doing the show in New York and needed North Americans. My friend Ryan Stiles spoke on my behalf and got me on the show. As an added bonus, my scenes were with him – someone I had known, loved and worked with for more than twenty years. The rest is history. Or at least Social Studies.
Rule #5: Wear Sensible Shoes
Okay, I admit I’m padding here. Five rules seem more impressive than four. Still, sensible shoes can’t hurt. And anyway, you’re reading a pamphlet. Do you have the time for five actual rules? I thought not.
What is the best way to end an article on yourself – a humourous anecdote or an inspirational message?
I don’t know.