Marv

I won’t apologize for taking time away to focus on other things during what has been the most stressful period anyone can remember for decades. That’s not to say I haven’t been busy working on things, but this site has not been a priority.

I’ve been teaching at Seneca College in their Event Management & Production Program, freelancing for a few different organizations, and despite the alarming decline in Event work, it’s been a pretty busy pandemic. For which I and the family are grateful.

And I had an opportunity to work with a realtor friend to help promote her listings: a fun, low-stress way to keep my video scripting work up to snuff. So without further ado: here’s the latest!

Slap Happy Rides Again @ OCMA2020

Though we’re (mostly) retired as a troupe, once in a while Slap Happy, the 3-time Canadian Comedy Award winners for best improv troupe, get asked to don our suits and perform for a corporate event…as we did on Wednesday, for the Ontario College Management Association 2020 conference.

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Kerry Griffin tries to woo me over to the Swiss version of SWIFT in Slap Happy’s PILLARS scene. Photo courtesy Kelly Doyle.

It was our fifth time performing for the semi-annual Conference (having started back in 2010), and, as always, we had as much fun as our audience.

For all that I make my living writing comedy (and corporate) scripts, there is no substitute for a great improv show.  It’s immediate, it’s specific to the group you’re working with, and, by involving the audience in the show, it’s truly an inclusive and immersive experience.

Add in the privilege of working with two of the best improvisers in the world in Sandy Jobin-Bevans and Kerry Griffin, and a Slap Happy show is always a joyful reunion.

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Swiss Kerry Griffin gets a suggestion from Durham College President Don Lovisa as I prepare to give Sandy Jobin-Bevans the Nobel Peace Prize (you had to be there).

FLICKER

For a long time, I was obsessed with the idea of a mediocre wannabe trying to break into the SuperHero biz.  What if someone who truly lacked the skills or talent for a high-profile profession went for it anyway?

Now, when super heroes dominate pop culture and mediocrity constantly trumps true talent, the idea is, at least to my mind, cliche. I have somewhere the third-and-half draft of my sitcom pilot “Flicker”, waiting for a revision that will never come.

But back in 2009, I was asked to be part of the Improv Video Project, what turned out to be a one-time-only showcase of Toronto improvisers turned film-makers, using the tools of improv to create cinema.  Some were funny, others intense, still others highly bizarre, verging on the experimental.

Mine? A chance to dust off the idea…one scene (with some framing action I scripted) exploring the core concept: a bitter has-been desperately trying to dissuade a talentless wannabe from a life they’re both unsuited to pursue.

Was it successful?  Sort of.

Sam Ruano, who has since gone on to a very successful career as a scriptwriter, and Dave Healey, a legendary Toronto improviser and member of The Chumps, delivered exactly what I asked: given a little background and the gist of the scenario, they went to town for half a day’s shooting, letting me cut the improvised results together over a few weeks.

It’s technically dated (and compressed to hell), though Alex Hatz, a much better director than I’ll ever be, did a great job shooting.  Mostly, I wish now I’d cut deeper, losing jokes for pace, getting it down to about 3 minutes.  I also wish I’d spent money on professional sound equipment, mics and engineers.  Mark Alexander did a great job on music, and the best he could to salvage the audio.

But the cast, the crew and the two extras at the end did a kick ass job in service to the itch I had to scratch.  Thanks all.  Enjoy.

Call Me…

Call this a humble brag…and call me Professor Pearce.

Okay, not so humble.

This month I joined the faculty of  Seneca College, teaching Script Writing for Media as part of the Event & Media Production program.

I’m no stranger to the pedagogical arts, having taught improv and sketch writing since 2000, but this hews closer to my roots in PR, working speech and media releases in the Humber Program.

It’s not only an opportunity to heed Yoda’s advice in Return of the Jedi, but to go back to the woodshed for my own sake. Having just come off a big project, it’s nice to tell tales (respecting the NDAs along the way), offer advice, and at the same time, remind myself of the fundamentals of script writing: clear language, brevity, and keeping the audience in mind.

And let’s face it, getting called Professor.  That’s the main thing.

RIP Terry Jones

In January 2012, halfway through my first year at the best talk show this country ever made, I had found my niche as the “Something You Might Not Know About Canada” guy: I sourced little or lesser-known bits of Canadiana, and produced/directed segments with whatever guest happened to be in the studio that day.  As a history junkie and full-on comedy nerd, I’d found the one place all my interests intersected.

I was also about to become a father, and, full disclosure, my head wasn’t exactly in the game, when I found out Terry Jones was coming into the studio for a full interview.

I mentioned the Comedy Nerd thing?  Jones and his Monty Python cohorts were the source code, the prime mover in that identity.  I was THAT kid, who could quote whole albums, and spread the gospel of Python as far as my skinny, spotty, bespectacled body would carry it.

The chance to actually MEET a Python (no matter what other feats he had accomplished, Jones would always be “a Python” to me) was earth-shaking…and I was acutely aware that the one thing I DIDN’T have was a script worthy of the co-director of one of the funniest films ever made.

Frankly, it wasn’t that good a script at all and I was desperately hoping I could punch it up but I never got the chance.

As I never fail to remind him, my son chose that day to arrive…so not only did I miss a chance to collaborate with Jones (and by the transitive property, become an unofficial member of Monty Python), but Strombo chose that particular taping to air a piece I’d produced with another group of comedy heroes.

I’m told, and I have no reason to doubt it, that Jones – who had made me laugh as hard as any human being ever – had laughed at the piece.  And professional that he was, he delivered my incredibly trivial script perfectly.

RIP Terry.

Thank you.

Back to Ollie World

Jennine Profeta and I were privileged enough to come back for an episode of Ollie: The Boy Who Became What He Ate for Radical Sheep and CBC Kids.  We may or may not have gotten the giggles over the Great Numtini.

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It takes 40-60 weeks for an episode to go from script to air, so while we said goodbye to Ollie in 2017, he’s only now come back on screen in the episode we penned, and we’re thrilled to see him again.

It’s always fun to get back in the pre-school sandbox, where people are kind both onscreen and off, and remember: Pumpkin helps you see better!

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Sophie

There’s a sunbeam on our bed, unlaid in.

A demand never given for treats uneaten when I stumbled up to make coffee.  A door never opened, not even once, for a yard un-patrolled.

A couch unscratched, and a carpet un-shed upon.  A duvet un-shredded.

Dishes I haven’t had to fill. Litter I haven’t had to scoop.

A song sung loudly uninterrupted by a concerned little face. A lap unoccupied when I tried to eat lunch, with no hair sneaking onto the plate.

An arm that won’t cramp because nobody demands that she lie on it undisturbed while I work away.  A cranky, arthritic and territorial space where love and trust was given as if it would never run out.

But it’s the sunbeam that hurts the most.

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The favourite spot (minus sunbeam)

Rejected Heritage Moment

A while back, Historica Canada put out a call for new Heritage Moments. With two producer friends, I was part of a pitch to create something different. Heritage elected to go another direction, but I’m very proud of this pitch, posted here for posterity.  It’s not funny,  at all…I just think if it had been done, and done right, it would have been beautiful.
HISTORICA CANADA TREATMENT 2 – CELIA FRANCA & THE NATIONAL BALLET OF CANADA

Premise: A re-enactment, through dance, of the early days of the NBOC, in the style of LA-LA-Land (reference that final imaginary sequence of the way their lives could have gone). To be filmed on a sound or theatre stage, with backdrops flying in (out of frame) to create each new “location”.

An orchestral score, Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty” Op. 66 plays. A woman small, lithe, with severe eyebrows and a striking profile is dancing in a spotlight (SUPER: Celia Franca, London, UK, 1951).

As she finishes and bends in a curtsy to an unseen audience, two people enter and plead with her to join them. She agrees, they twirl across a map of the Atlantic to land in Toronto. Dancers rush in to join her, and she pulls some into a group, others she rejects and hurls aside. A company slowly forms around Celia, learning steps, suddenly coalescing into a unified whole. The backdrop whips away, and the company is now dancing in an old vaudeville theatre. The dancers drop into rows, and a cutout of a tour bus moves briefly in front of them, framing them in its windows as the dancers look exhausted.

The bus moves off, the backdrops whips up and the dancers are performing in a hockey arena in Leduc, AB. The camera swings around to reveal a new backdrop, now they are in a high school auditorium in Truro, NS, still performing the same ballet.

The camera spins away to a mother, dressed in the style of the mid-60’s, dragging her two children, a boy and a girl, into auditorium seats, the boy clearly bored. Close on the children’s faces, pushing slowly in on the boy as the lights of the stage illuminate his face, registering the power and beauty of the performance: the whole world opens up in his eyes.

We pull back and the boy is now standing, in white shirt and black leggings, in the National Ballet School, practicing, learning, growing. Other children of all backgrounds are with him, going through a routine. Another woman (SUPER: Betty Oliphant, 1966) is correcting the boy’s posture, as Celia Franca watches from the side. As the boy starts to repeat the move we push in on Ms. Franca. The camera swings around behind her to follow her gaze, and now she is backstage, watching as the boy, now fully grown, is performing in the corps de ballet of Sleeping Beauty, one of the greatest critical hits of the NBOC’s illustrious history. SUPER: New York, 1973.

Only now does the voice-over begin: “The National Ballet of Canada began performing on shoestring budget in barns and hockey arenas across the country. Today, thanks to founder Celia Franca, the company tours the world, inspiring a love of dance and music in every generation.”

As the VO beings, we push forward onto the stage and swing in front of the corps as they whirl past the camera and, for one moment the young boy, now a man, is in the spotlight, his face still shining with the joy we saw in the arena and finally, we swing over to another family, and another child, awestruck in the dark, as a new world opens up for them forever.