Teaching the funny bone

Sense of humour needs
nurturing, says improv coach

by CHRIS BARRY

Name: François Vincent

Age: 33

Occupation: Writer/thespian/teacher

Bio: This enduring Montreal West stud had been working the endlessly exhilarating technical writing beat until “the credit crunch” hit his employer a while back and he found himself unceremoniously laid off. A veteran actor currently enjoying his 10th year in local improv troupe Without Annette, François decided it was finally time to exercise his “itch to start teaching” and, together with his bud Marc Rowland, they launched Montreal Improv, a comedy/improv academy/workshop designed to help both amateur and professional actors develop their improvisational skills. “We kept noticing how crowded the Sunday evening improv nights were becoming at Théâtre Ste-Catherine, thinking that the one thing Montreal was missing to really expand the improv community was a school, so we started one.” He drives a spanking new yet infinitely pragmatic 2008 Mazda 5.

Might one assume it’s the quality of talent appearing at Théâtre Ste-Catherine Sunday nights that’s convinced him the city desperately needs a school to teach these clowns how to be funny?“Of course not.”

How can you teach somebody to be creative enough to do halfway decent improv? “The big challenge to doing improv well is your own ego, realizing it’s not just about you, but about listening to other people, taking what they say and working together to create a great scene and have a really great time up there. It’s about setting each other up, trying to make each other look good. It’s really a team exercise. It’s also about practising, developing your creative side without immediately censoring yourself, being open to others’ suggestions and just having a sense of delight in what you’re doing—that’s the approach we encourage.”

Does he ever get students who are simply so un-funny he’s forced to tell them to go back to their day jobs writing comic strips for the daily newspapers? “Not really. You can train people to have good habits. Hopefully, if someone comes to my class and I see they aren’t particularly funny, I’ll be able to teach them some new tricks.”

Does he really believe it’s possible to train some unfunny halfwit to suddenly become funny? “Well, define funny. I mean, two people may go to a comedy club and one person will think it’s hysterical while the other isn’t amused at all. It’s so subjective.”

Okay, so when my mentally challenged eight-year-old niece starts throwing fecal matter on the walls of her bedroom while laughing hysterically, my sister should accept that it might actually be as funny as my niece believes it is? “Well, okay, I try to discourage certain kinds of humour—like gross, cheap, sexual jokes. Like, if that’s the only funny you have, well, you need to work on it. But I absolutely believe you can train people to be funny. I don’t believe there is anybody out there who has no sense of humour. And if there is, I hope I never encounter them.”

What it’ll cost you: $80 for six two-hour sessions. Go to montrealimprov.com for details.

Last book read: Decision in Philadelphia, by Christopher Collier.

Musical preferences: Flight of the Conchords, Tegan and Sara, M.I.A.

Words of wisdom: “The amateur practises until they get it right, but the professional practices until they cannot get it wrong.”

Comments: dimwit@hdot.net