Sad Dads trust in Improv

Growing up Scandinavian and conservative, I was taught from a young age not to laugh – except for when someone else’s pet died (and then only in an awkward, slightly demeaning way). Learning to laugh has been a process, and what better way to get back to basics than venturing into the most primal form of humorous antics: improv.

Lucky for me, SCAD is brimming with groups of people who like to live in their imaginations. One such group, the improvisational group Sad Dads, who recently won the Southeast Regional College Improv tournament and is headed for nationals next week, invited me to sit in on rehearsal and have a little chat about the craft.

The group is comprised of Boyce Powell, Samantha Binkerd, Will Kommor, Courtney Fortner, Jade Thomas, Erwin Brock, Joel Lawson and Morgan Heslin. Each member comes from a distinctly different background, with majors ranging from graphic design to illustration, though, for the most part they’ve risen through the ranks of SCAD’s improv hierarchy together. While I was interviewing, they finished each other’s sentences and made up little bits, riffing off of each other’s answers. They have this thing – “I got your back” – that they say to each other on stage and off.

“The group bond that we have is just as important as any of the other things we practice. How tight you are as a close-knit ensemble can mean the difference between not knowing what each other is doing on stage, and knowing what each other is doing on stage,” said Kommor, a fourth year sound design student. “So, we honestly treat our bond really seriously. We almost have a professional level of friendship.”

Fortner, a second year performing arts major, agreed, “when you’re on the stage, you’re not thinking ‘how can I make myself look good?’ You’re thinking ‘how can I make this scene look good, how can I make my friends look good?’ It’s about the group. It’s about what we create.”

They explained that they would be practicing a signature exercise, called “bar-b-que,” where they ask the audience for two opposite words, then split into groups and weave the words into two different stories. Their coach, David Stork, yelled out “tsunami.” I said “coffee shop,” then sat back to watch the show as a journalist, trying to figure it out. This turned out to be an issue.

After a few minutes of tensely jotting down questions, anxiously worrying if my squeaky grunts were passing as giggles, I sort of gave up and just decided to hold off on the analyzing part till after. On stage, four Sad Dads were pretending to be on spring break in the middle of a tsunami. I sat back, and watched.

And suddenly, I was there.

We were at the sluttiest spring break destination in the world, partying it up while holding on to furniture to keep from being swept away by waves, with dead bodies floating by – and I was laughing.

That trust thing? It’s a two way street. Sad Dads treats the audience like the ninth member of the team. As an audience member, you’ve got to enter into the same space of complete vulnerability as the performers.

“We’ll be holding something imaginary, and someone will gasp, and that’s when you know you’ve got them, because there’s nothing there – but you do something, and they’re hooked,” said Binkerd, a fourth year performing arts major.

It’s arguably an artistic phenomenon. The imaginations of eight separate people somehow unify into one. They move this shared world, a world technically made up of literally nothing but transmitted neuron signals, outside of the confines of their minds and onto the stage. There, it’s open, and anyone can join.

Improv isn’t about laughing. It’s about trusting. The funny part is what happens when you let go.

On Saturday, April 16, Sad Dads is holding a lip syncing competition to raise money for their upcoming trip to nationals. For more information, and to keep up to date about shows and events, join Sad Dad’s Facebook page and follow them on instagram @scadsaddads.