Actor, writer, improviser and creator/co-star on NBC’s “Sports Action Team” and “The Venue” (winner Comedy Central Pilot Competition), al is a founding member of Baby Wants Candy. World-renowned musical improv troupe Baby Wants Candy perform the opening and closing night of a completely improvised, never-seen-before or to-be-seen-again musical.
https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/baby-wants-candy
After more than 4,000 completely improvised musicals, what still surprises you when you walk on stage with absolutely no idea what show you’re about to create?
Do you play chess? I don’t. BUT I do reference interesting things about chess that I read on the internet. Or maybe I saw it on Queens Gambit.
Anyway, even though there are a limited number of pieces on the board, and a limited sized board, there are something like 69 trillion possible games, after just 10 moves. I feel that way with our shows. We walk out knowing absolutely nothing. The audience shout outs a bunch of titles. They vote on what they want to see that night. (Unlike America these days, democracy is still alive at a BWC show.) The lights go down and the show can go anywhere.
Sometimes it’s a love story (Kanye West Side Story), sometimes a hero’s journey (Jesus Christ Uber Car), sometimes a show that takes place all in one confined location the entire show (Five Billionaires in a Submarine). You’d think after 4,000 shows we’d have seen every possible story. We haven’t. The cast, band and audience always finds a new doorway into a world none of us could have predicted. That’s the addictive part. Every night feels like opening a present that no one person wrapped and no one person bought. But everyone wants… like they wants candy?
Audiences provide the inspiration for every performance — what has been the most unexpected suggestion that’s somehow turned into a genuinely brilliant musical?
We’ve had thousands of suggestions, but the ones that scare us most are usually the best. The suggestions that make you immediately think, “Well, this is going to be a disaster.” Then somehow those become the legendary shows. One audience suggestion led us to create a sweeping epic about something so mundane that I was convinced we had nowhere to go (Pants, The Musical). Forty-five minutes later there were power ballads, betrayals, reprises, a rap battle and an eleven o’clock number about…pants.
One insane title we got at Fringe in the past couple years: John Wilkes Booth and His Magical Singing Tooth. The show ended up not just super funny, but weirdly super touching and got a standing O.
Important note: never underestimate a ridiculous idea. Most Broadway musicals sound pretty strange when you describe them in one sentence (looking at you Cats). We just discover that fact in real time.
Baby Wants Candy has launched countless memorable characters and songs over the years; is there a particular improvised moment that the cast still talks about long after the curtain comes down?
There are definitely moments that have become BWC folklore. One of my personal favourite moments was in a Fringe show. I was playing a police sergeant yelling at a rookie cop, played by another cast member Chris. In the middle of my tirade, you could hear from the audience, loud and clear, a baby gurgling and laughing. Everyone in the audience laughed about it- it was so out of the blue. So Chris and I accepted the offer that had been given- I turned to Chris and said “Did you bring a baby into the precinct?!” We looked out into the audience and found the baby and his mom. We said “That baby right there.” The woman did something totally unexpected. She held the baby up for us to take. We took the baby and started telling him “You’re no good kid- I can see you got a life of crime ahead of you.” Dumb bits but amusing because it was so out of nowhere. We handed the baby back (eventually) but for the rest of the show the rest of the cast clambered to try to get the baby back on stage. That kid got a lot of stage time.
Seems like that baby wants Baby Wants Candy. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Creating a full musical on the spot sounds equal parts thrilling and terrifying — how do you embrace the chaos while keeping the story, songs and comedy on track?
Did you ever see the seminal classic film Speed? The one where Keanu Reeves plays…Keanu Reeves. But this time he’s on a bus! And they have to keep driving that bus over 55mph, while still somehow keeping it in control. BWC shows feel that way to me. You can’t drive the bus off the road or off a cliff. But you have to keep the pace up. You have to embrace the insanity and keep the bus on the road. We love the chaos. It has to be tempered by a meaningful story and great songs, gags, rhymes, etc. But without the chaos it gets boring for us. And I think the same for the audience.
If people truly want to see a 100% polished musical, with costumes, expensive sets, etc- they should hit the West End. But if they want true surprises, and bonkers over 55mph chaos that somehow still stays on track with beautiful yet crazy songs, that wraps up in a soul satisfying way, and that they’ve helped create- that’s a show we love to be part of and perform every night. People assume improvisation is about being wildly spontaneous, but it’s actually about listening. If someone introduces an idea, we treat it like it’s important. If a song reveals something about a character, we remember it. If the audience laughs at a detail, we build on it.
It’s a bit like assembling an airplane while flying it, except everyone else on stage is also assembling different parts of the airplane and singing harmonies about the process. The trick isn’t avoiding mistakes. The trick is treating every mistake as if it was part of the plan all along. Luckily, that’s also a pretty good strategy for life.
The company has become something of a Fringe institution; what do you think keeps audiences coming back year after year to watch a show they’ve never seen before and will never see again?
I think audiences are hungry for experiences that are genuinely happening right in front of them. Especially now with the amount of time we spent time-shifted- texting, posting, replying to emails. We live in a world where almost everything can be streamed, replayed, paused, clipped, reposted, and watched again later. Our show disappears the moment it ends. There’s something exciting about knowing that everyone in the room is sharing an experience that will never happen again. No one—not even the cast—knows where it’s going.
Also, audiences love being co-conspirators. The suggestion they shout out doesn’t just inspire the show; it becomes part of the show’s DNA. They have ownership over what happens next. It’s fun to see someone on the streets of Edinburgh who saw a show years ago and yells at you from across the street a bit they remember from the show that even you had forgotten.
With the audience effectively acting as your writers, directors and producers every night, how much control do you really have once the opening suggestion is shouted out?
Less than people think… and maybe more than people think?
The audience gives us the seeds through the title, but they don’t give us a map. Once the suggestion is voted on, our job is to water it, protect it, occasionally wrestle it to the ground, and somehow grow it into a musical before everyone goes home.
But I guess where the audience does act in those roles is with their responses- their laughter, their “awwwws”, their applause – it does inform us in the cast on what the audience finds moving.
The control you do have is realising that you have to listen and yes and what has happened, and constantly make decisions on what to yes and. Because the rest of the cast and band haven’t planned anything with you. You as a group have to constantly make decisions on what to do, when to edit, when to do pretty much anything. And the 9 other people on stage are doing the same thing. That instantaneous and constant silent negotiation going on is really exciting for all the players, and I think the audience too.
Improvised comedy and musical theatre are both high-wire acts in their own right — what is it about combining the two that creates such a unique kind of magic for performers and audiences alike?
Musicals are already built on a wacky premise: people become so emotional that speaking is no longer enough, so they start singing. Even with that wacky premise, musical theatre usually has a polish to it. But that polish can sometimes can feel…well, sames-y. Certain types of songs, tropes, characters…even the way many musical theatre performances are performed can feel like “Oh, I’ve seen something like this before.” Obviously there are exceptions, but there’s a definite style that let’s you know “I’m watching a musical now.”
But improv adds another layer. Not only are people singing, they’re inventing the song, the lyrics, the choreo, and often a plot twist at exactly the same moment. And sometimes it goes off the rails, and the way that it went off the rails then becomes the glorious focus of the show. The audience aren’t just watching the finished product; they’re watching human imagination at work. Every successful rhyme, every unexpected harmony, every callback, every emotional turn feels can feel like a tiny miracle because everyone knows it didn’t exist thirty seconds earlier. That’s what makes it magical. For one hour, a room full of people gets to witness something being born. Then it disappears forever. And tomorrow night, we get to do it all over again.
For this reason, I really do love doing these shows. More than any other performance I do, or have ever done before.