"Chia Pets!"
Minneapolis improv comedy kings bow down to 'Harold'
Huge Theater celebrates the 50th birthday of an improvisational form that's become a cornerstone of modern comedy.
By IRA BROOKER
The voice rang out above dozens of others as the near-sellout crowd at Huge Improv Theater scrambled to suggest something nostalgic.
Then members of an improv comedy team stepped up to relate anecdotes and associations the phrase brought to mind — like how the shoulder-pad fashion trend of the 1980s made every woman look like a linebacker.
Ten minutes later, the team and the audience were in the thick of three off-kilter narratives, following a quintet of musically inclined fur trappers; a father intent on watching bizarre VHS tapes with his son; and a quest for the secret of Rob Lowe's eternal youth. By the end of a half-hour, all of those seemingly unrelated stories managed to dovetail into something resembling a satisfying conclusion.
Welcome to the Harold. Or at least, one interpretation of the Harold. It's all part of Huge's "Harold Turns 50" celebration of what's arguably the most important cornerstone of long-form improv.
So what exactly is a Harold? Basically, it's a set of guidelines that help an improv team develop a scene. "The simplest explanation is just three story lines, each visited three times," said Huge co-founder Butch Roy.
You can pick out the familiar beats of the Harold in just about every TV sitcom.
"A group of performers will take an audience suggestion and build on that idea in ways that are unpredictable even to the performers," said Molly Chase, director of House of Whimsy, one of three teams that are performing at Huge every Saturday through the end of October. "There will likely be moments of poignancy and humor, and the whole room — audience and improvisers — are in it together.
"It's immediate, it has never happened before, and will never happen again."
Origin story
The first Harold was performed in 1967 by the Committee, a San Francisco-based comedy group known for experimenting with narrative structures that employed improv games and exercises.
When the group decided that it needed a name for its creation, one member reportedly cracked that "Harold" would be nice. The handle stuck, to the slight chagrin of generations of performers who have had to explain its origin.
Committee member Del Close dedicated much of his career to honing and teaching the Harold. In the 1994 book "Truth in Comedy," generally regarded as the improviser's bible, he and co-authors Charna Halpern and Kim "Howard" Johnson explain that "the Harold is like the space shuttle, incorporating all of the developments and discoveries that have gone before it into one new, superior design."
Close's efforts as an instructor and co-founder of Chicago's iO Theater became the foundation for much of American comedy as we know it.
No local venue feels that influence more acutely than Huge Theater. With "Harold Turns 50," Minnesota's most visible improv venue is paying homage to its roots and giving some of the Twin Cities' top improvisers a chance to get back to the basics.
"There are a lot of improv structures, but there's something magic about the Harold, the way you start with an opening and it brings out a truth," said Drew Kersten, director of the Kempt team.
Kempt assistant director John Gebretatose agreed that it's all about capturing those truths. "It's people playing with confidence … making comment on real-life things. Like women's shoulder pads in the '80s and how they had to look like football players just to get through life. For me, that's what makes it successful: a through-line or a narrative commenting on society."
One of the reasons improv remains a hard sell for some audiences is that it's the ultimate "had to be there" entertainment. It's difficult to explain how the shoulder pad observation might snowball into a scene about Jennifer Aniston devouring the life force of her young fans, but for those watching the performers feed off one another's energy and make connections, the evolution is electrifying.
Those hazy connections are very much by design, Kersten said. "If the opening is about Diet Coke, you don't want to see three scenes about Diet Coke. You want them spread out as far as possible, so when they start to come back together it brings a bit more of that magic."
The laughs in a Harold show seldom come from a standard setup/punchline delivery. In fact, one of the first rules laid out in "Truth in Comedy" is "Don't go for the jokes." Instead, the comedy in a long-form show comes largely from watching relatable situations spiral into unexpected directions.
"The least successful Harolds are when we let our 'I know where this needs to go' take over and steer things instead of discovering all the way through," Roy said. "Because if we know where it needs to go, so does the audience."
Grounded weirdness
The form's flexibility is obvious watching the three teams of five performers in the "Harold Turns 50" showcase.
On opening night, the House of Whimsy team produced a trio of focused, slice-of-life vignettes about crumbling relationships, disillusioned carnival workers and spiteful chess players. While the scenes frequently veered into weirdness, they remained grounded in a way that drew laughs of recognition from the crowd.
The Speficicity team, on the other hand, dove deeper into surreality right off the bat with a scene about two buddies literally riding each other's good vibes like a surfboard. That story line soon intertwined with two bird-watchers who misplaced a baby, and a home brewer crafting a hugely popular beer that smelled of cat urine, all of it building into a crescendo of absurdity that had the audience roaring for very different reasons.
As much reverence as the local improv community has for the Harold, the form represents something different in the Twin Cities than it does in improv hotbeds such as New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, where making it onto a high-profile Harold team can be a major career steppingstone. Many performers move to those cities for that reason.
"In Minnesota it's a strong part of the tradition, but at Huge Theater, Harold is only one of the forms that gets done," Kersten said.
While Close did some work with Minnesota comedy godfather Dudley Riggs and his Brave New Workshop, Huge encourages experimentation and focuses more on building strong teams of performers, regardless of form.
"Team first, format second: That's what differentiates us from the coasts," Gebretatose said. "We're better anyway," he added with a laugh.
Ira Brooker is a St. Paul-based freelance writer and editor.
The moving truck arrived in Minnesota 25 years ago this week. I had visited Minnesota a few times previously. Now it was a place that I was calling home.
Home for how long? I wasn’t sure, especially since that kid from southeast Tennessee had never lived through a Minnesota winter and I don’t recall even owning a pair of snow boots or long underwear at the time. I still haven’t gotten around to purchasing a snowblower, but there’s still time to shake being a cheapskate, I suppose.
My first day at the Star Tribune was January 10, 2000. Lighter on the scale and without a hint of gray hair, the goal then was the same as it is now — make deadline, tell great stories.
That’s the best hope of any sportswriter fortunate enough to do the job, to be able to witness and chronicle a great story.
Something dramatic, unique, thrilling, goofy, historic, memorable. Anything but boring.
Seasons and bylines blur together over time, but every so often, a team stokes the fire with something wholly unexpected that sucks you completely into the moment.
The 2024 Vikings have done that, which is why this season shoots to the top of my most enjoyable experiences in a quarter century of covering Minnesota sports.
The final chapter has yet to be written, but a 14-2 record with a chance to secure the No. 1 seed in the NFC playoffs in Detroit on Sunday has reminded all of us that seasons like this don’t come along very often. (I feel envious when colleagues talk about covering the Twins championship teams.)
There have been a few other teams that felt special both in the moment and in memory. The 2003 Wild. The 2009 Vikings. The 2019 Twins.
All ridiculously fun seasons to cover for different reasons.
The Wild’s ‘03 postseason run was the definition of unexpected. They were a young team slaying giants, overcoming a pair of 3-1 series deficits to reach the conference finals. And the most likable group of players and coaches I’ve encountered in this profession.
The 2009 Vikings had the most assembled talent of any team I’ve covered. That team featured colorful personalities and tons of star power, led by Brett Favre, Adrian Peterson, Steve Hutchinson, Jared Allen and Kevin Williams. It’s a shame that team didn’t finish the deal with a championship parade.
The Twins Bomba Squad hit a record number of home runs and made going to the baseball park fun again. Nelson Cruz provided a case study in the importance of locker room leadership.
The ’24 Vikings are a hoot. This season contains all the ingredients that make being a fan of sports so captivating: Unexpected success (14-2 record), compelling story lines (Sam Darnold’s renaissance), high drama (eight one-score victories), stars shining (Justin Jefferson, Jonathan Greenard, Jordan Addison, Andrew Van Ginkel, etc.), emotion (Kevin O’Connell’s locker room speeches), fun personalities (Camryn Bynum’s and Josh Metellus’ choreographed celebration dances).
The vibe just feels different with this team.
The term “culture” gets overused in the sports and corporate world, but it can be a powerful thing when it takes root and spreads. O’Connell has created a positive work environment that allows players to thrive and feel confident.
The Vikings are a tight-knit group that has straddled the line perfectly between having fun and being serious and accountable in their preparation. Everyone has the same agenda. That’s not always the case in a locker room of 50-plus pro athletes at different stages of their careers and contract status.
It’s hard to image a more important regular-season game in Vikings history than what takes place Sunday night in Detroit because the stakes can’t get any higher for a non-playoff game. Two 14-win teams battling for No. 1 seed and home-field advantage in the playoffs in the final game of the season.
“I’m definitely not going to be able to sleep Saturday and just be awaiting all day Sunday,” Jefferson said.
Vikings fans likely will be right there with him in their excitement.
These are moments we will remember for a long time, even more so if the magic carpet ride continues in the playoffs.
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IRA BROOKER
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