Jakob Cansler

By Jakob Cansler

This article was first published in DC Metro Theater Arts here.

Can improv comedy change the world? Can it move society forward, instead of setting it back?

Those are the questions Washington Improv Theater is asking over the course of the next month in its new series now running at Studio Theatre,  Ask Me Anything: Changemakers.

Each performance in the series features an interview with a DMV resident who is “working to make the world a better place,” which the improvisers then use as inspiration for a comedic performance right after. WIT has lined up an impressive slate of local activists, artists, and policymakers for the series, and since each night features a different interviewee, every performance is unique for both the performers and the audience.

A recent performance featured Erin Palmer, a DC activist who serves as an Advisory Neighborhood Commissioner (ANC) ⁠— a hyperlocal elected volunteer position designed to advise the DC City Council (a job description that Palmer very helpfully explained to the audience). She also recently ran a surprisingly competitive primary challenge against Council Chairman Phil Mendelson.

In the interview portion of the show, Palmer described her background as a lawyer, the experience of local politics, running a campaign against Mendelson, the changes she’d like to see in city government, and what it’s like working with residents to improve her neighborhood and the district at large.

One resident, for example, was obsessed with solving the citywide rat problem, which meant Palmer needed a rat platform.

“What is your rat platform?” an audience member immediately asked.

Palmer’s “rat platform” ⁠— dry ice, for what it’s worth ⁠— led to a hilarious recurring bit during the improv portion of the show in which the rats of the city campaigned to have their own ANC. The candidate? John Quincy Ratams, who is firmly anti-dry ice and pro-dumpster.

That’s just one example of how the performers spun Palmer’s interview into a unique comedic performance that blended together typical improv techniques with specific local humor. The performers also poked some good-natured fun at neighborhood cleanups, Palmer’s job as a lawyer, and Rock Creek Park.

“I was afraid going in because change-making ⁠— sometimes it’s very serious business,” said Bill Nelson, one of the performers, after the show. Instead, Nelson found the discussion to be low-stakes and conversational, so the audience got to hear both the “serious business” and the sillier side of local politics, the latter of which provided inspiration to the improv performers.

The result was a show that took a normally complicated and serious topic and turned it into something accessible and funny.

“I think a lot of people don’t care for local politics,” said Palmer after the show. “When you put it in a way that’s enjoyable and easy to digest and humanizing, that can grow people’s interest, and maybe they’ll see something different that they didn’t see before.”

Indeed, the hope for WIT is that the entire series can have that effect ⁠— that the interviews and performances put together can serve as education and inspiration as much as they are entertainment.

“I think it’s really great to get community members like Erin talking about something so important that many people may not be invested in initially,” said Eddison Wilkinson, another performer. “It’s awesome that you get to have a nice, funny night as well as learn about these wonderful, important things in our community.”

Nelson and Wilkinson also said they see a lot of similarities between improv and local politics, and that hopefully a performance like this can help the two distinct fields inform each other.

“One of the key elements of improv ⁠— successful improv ⁠— is shutting up and listening,” said Nelson. “Clearly, in the world of politics, there needs to be a lot more listening.”

It’s not just local politics, though, that WIT intends to tackle through this production. Coming up, WIT has shows featuring highly acclaimed local artist and activist Holly Bass (November 26), trans activist Charlotte Clymer (December 9), and Dixon Osburn (December 10), who played a pivotal role in dismantling “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

As a result of the wide variety of guests, each night will be completely unique. For the audience, that means a lot of exciting and distinct viewpoints on change-making. For the performers, it presents a unique challenge and an opportunity for learning and inspiration both onstage and off.

Onstage, Wilkinson said, he tackles that challenge by always thinking: “What can I listen and take away from this person to help us push forward and not just be at a standstill or be at a moment where no one can say anything and no one can move anywhere?”

That question, he said, applies offstage too, and he hopes it’s the question audience members take away from the show. It’s also the question embodied by the slate of guests Washington Improv Theater has lined up.

“It became very clear that Erin Palmer is just an ordinary person who then saw something that needed change,” said Nelson. “I hope that we can all take the idea that no matter how ordinary we are, we can participate. I think that’s pretty inspirational.”

By Jakob Cansler

This article was first published on DC Metro Theater Arts here.

Who knew a scarf could be so many things?

Evidently, the directors of We Happy Few’s production of La Llorona do. The numerous scarves featured in the show are folded, knotted, bundled, and waved in a variety of ways throughout the show. They drape over the sets and stand in for weapons. They signify wealth and gender. And yes, of course, the scarves are also a symbol.

The use of fabric, though, is just one example of the creative staging on display in the premiere production of La Llorona, written by local playwright and actor Gabby Wolfe and now performing at Capitol Hill Arts Workshop.

The story of La Llorona ⁠⁠— which literally translates to “the wailing/weeping woman” ⁠— is not new. It is based on an oral story that has been passed down for centuries throughout Latin America and is pervasive throughout the culture there. It is a tale told at bedtime, a warning for children, a ghost story ⁠— I saw the production on Halloween, which was fitting. It is a staple of Spanish-speaking popular culture but has never managed to break through American culture more broadly.

Wolfe intends to change that with this production, at least on a local scale. Her version of La Llorona was first presented as a staged reading last year as part of We Happy Few’s “Expanding the Canon” initiative, which aims to shed light on classic stories and works by minority and non-Western artists.

To tell this story, Wolfe has expanded the original tale to a more fleshed-out narrative. This La Llorona now centers around the story of Esperanza (played by Wolfe), a seamstress in a small town in Latin America who is swept off her feet by Don Hernan (Victor Salinas), the heir to the local mining operation who has moved there from Spain. They fall in love quickly, but differences in class, ethnicity, and gender threaten to tear them apart. The story quickly turns more tragic than romantic.

After all, this is a ghost story, not a love story. That much is clear from the beginning.

Wolfe bookends the story of Esperanza with a present-day conflict between mother and daughter. It’s a smart storytelling technique that links the folktale of “La Llorona” to the present day, an important connection to make since audiences here are likely not aware of how well-known the story still is today throughout much of Latin America.

And yet, this connection could also have benefitted from deeper exploration. As with any oral story that is passed down for centuries, there is an overarching question here: Why has this story remained pervasive for so long?

There’s room in this play to explore more of what “La Llorona” can and can’t tell us about Latin American identity (or more specific sub-regional identities) today. After all, understanding the stories that shape cultures helps us understand those cultures, and I’d be interested to hear more of Wolfe’s perspective on that through this play.

Still, as presented, La Llorona works well for a theatre company like We Happy Few, which specializes in stripped-down, imaginative stagings. This production is no exception.

The three-person directing team of Rachel Dixon, Esteban Marmolejo-Suarez, and Kerry McGee has utilized a small space to its fullest, turning a tiny blackbox into an intimate thrust stage that gives the production a gathered-around-a-bonfire feel, as if you’re seeing a late-night ghost story come to life before your eyes.

The use of fabric only adds to that, and gives the production a spooky air. Cloth makes up almost the entirety of the haunting scenery by Megan Holden and versatile costumes ⁠— the ensemble cast switches out scarves to differentiate the dozens of characters ⁠— by Sabrina Simmons.

The cloth and scarves also successfully give the show a simultaneous cultural specificity and symbolic universality: Esperanza is both one woman and every woman as her story is passed down from her time to our time.

And therein lies the thematic heart of Wolfe’s work. La Llorona is a ghost story, yes, but the monster we see is haunted just as much as she haunts ⁠— and that feeling will sit with you long after it scares you.