Coop D'etat
In a small room that serves as a dressing room, costume shop and God knows what else, Sean Keenan and Brandon Higgins are photocopying the night's programs on a small copier that clacks and sputters with rheumatic abandon.
"It's from 1960s Russia," Keenan quips as he folds a program, the title of which reads: "Holy Crap, It's Our 8th Year Anniversary Extravaganza." The show features skits that have been most popular with audiences over the years.
The night before, all three shows (the nonsmoking 9pm show, 11pm and 1am) sold out The Perch's 60-seat performance space. On this night, the first two shows are reserved to capacity, and the 1am show is booked with reservations for 40.
Brice answers the phone and takes two more reservations for the late-night show, then goes about readying the club for guests. She makes a pot of coffee, sets up the video camera (every show is taped), sprays some air freshener, then pulls the curtains shut on the windows.
The stage is set up near the entrance from the lobby, so that performers can easily hop "backstage" to get ready for the next sketch. You have to walk around it to get to the rows and rows of mismatched sofas and chairs, some of which are Salvation Army specials. Others have been donated.
Hardwood floors are covered, here and there, with stained carpet remnants. Exposed ductwork hangs just below the 12-foot ceiling. The exposed brick walls are covered in artwork that could best be described as movie-set-meets-attic-sale. Along one wall is a raised platform for the house band, Dawn Patrol.
The first customers enter as soon as the doors open at 8:30. They're sopping wet from standing in the rain, but they're smiling.
The Perch has been "cheerfully offending" Charlotteans since 1994, and its origins go back farther, when its nest was feathered in Los Angeles in 1990. Brice and her best friend Blaine Miller, who met while studying theater at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque, moved to LA after graduation. Brice had been offered a job as a prop mistress on one film, then another.
Wanting to do "something funny," they found a 60-seat theater off Santa Monica Boulevard that was hosting a series of one-act plays. They charmed their way into the theater and began producing their own late-night material once the other actors left the stage.
"It was great fun," Brice recalls. Months later, however, she became pregnant -- and realized she didn't want to raise a child amid California's infamous earthquakes and race riots. A friend suggested she try to get a prop job with a movie of the week that was being filmed in Charlotte, then perhaps try to make her way toward Wilmington's movie scene.
She got the job in Charlotte, and then another, and then another, and decided to stay. She and Miller and baby moved to Plaza-Midwood. At the end of 1993, they were ready to again spread their wings and jumpstart their fledgling sketch comedy troupe.
They placed an audition notice for actors, jugglers and musicians, then gathered the performers at their house for rehearsals. Miller found the performance space at 1500 Central Avenue, which had been abandoned two years earlier by a telemarketing firm. The owner said they could rent the space for "next to nothing," as long as they did all the upfit themselves, pulling up carpets, painting the ceiling, and so forth. Brice remembers spending Mother's Day of 1994 sanding the hardwood floors at the theater while the troupe was at the house deciding which sketches to perform first.
The troupe played its first show a month later, calling itself "The Dead Parrots Society" -- until one member recalled that the name was owned by the slightly more famous Monty Python's Flying Circus troupe. (Someone might want to inform the London-based psychedelic folk/rock band of the same name -- but I digress.)
They needed a legit name. Someone suggested the "Legally Dead Parrots," and that stuck -- for awhile. Now, Brice says, they're called just "The Perch."
At 9pm, Brice is delaying the start of the show so that the rest of the audience can fight the rain-induced mess of Charlotte roadways. The 17-and-up (yep, they check ID) guests are still straggling in, and still cheerfully handing over their admission of $10, $8 for students. Two guys and a girl who didn't make reservations are hanging out, waiting for a reservation holder to not show up.In the office/kitchen, Keenan does the Tasmanian Devil thing, going from the counter to the refrigerator to fill beer orders as fast as he can. He briefly stops to answer the ringing phone: "Hello, The Perch. What are you wearing?"
Also in the kitchen is cast member Sean Kelly, channeling his pre-show energy into his guitar. Now, it's the Stones' "Waiting On A Friend." Later, he and cast member David Holland ("I'm the peacemaker") will break into a harmonious version of the Bugs Bunny overture: "...and oh, what heights we'll hit -- on with the show, this is it!"
In the theater space, the sofas are sagging comfortably with groups of friends, giggling and holding beverages. One group is here to kick-off Mark Lineberger's bachelor party; they're starting their night by reliving some of their favorite Perch skits. Like most of the audience, they've been here before.
Jerry Roberson, the party organizer, says The Perch is "hilarious." He's hoping he'll see one of his old favorite sketches, a spoof of Miss Cleo, the psychic -- but if not, that's OK. He's up for anything "off the wall," and he won't be disappointed. "This is just so different from any other entertainment you can get in Charlotte, and that makes it a worthwhile place to come to."
Lineberger also has been to The Perch before, four or five times. He's hoping to see the Talking Baby sketch (officially named "The Critics"). "That has to be one of my favorites."
A few seats away, Michelle Wood, a six-time Perch veteran, is crossing her fingers for an appearance by Talking Baby. "That's the reason I come back here. . . That, and the cast is amazing. They're always on their toes."
Good times at The Perch didn't always take wing so easily. There never have been extra funds for advertising, so the troupe has relied on free newspaper calendar listings and word-of-mouth referrals. As a result, they've played to audiences as sparse as seven to ten people."We've played when the cast has outnumbered the audiences," says cast member and stage manager Amy Snyder, "but we'd do the same show, whether it was five people or 50."
"I like to block that stuff out," Brice laughs, adding that the smaller shows became fun in their own way: "We'd end up chatting with the audience, and sometimes we'd all go out for a few beers afterwards."
Then there was what Brice calls the "splitting of camps." Six years ago, "creative differences" and personality clashes led some cast members to talk about quitting the troupe. Brice said she'd start her own troupe. Instead, Miller asked her to buy him out. She did -- and chose a handful of cast members to continue The Perch tradition.
Today, the cast and crew total about 20. The number of players in each show depends on who's needed for that week's sketches, and whose schedules will allow them to fit in the time needed for script meetings (one night), rehearsals (two nights) and Friday and Saturday performances. Each show runs for two weeks, then new material is rehearsed for an all-new show.
During a recent rehearsal for Audience Favorites (Part II), or, more accurately, during the prelude to that rehearsal, the actors draped themselves, Dali-like, over sofas. Some held beers. Most held cigarettes. A few held both. Someone in the back -- Jesse Jones, perhaps -- was singing snippets of an old-school rap song; others were tossing around some B-movie dialogue. Actor Quay Rogers was plugged into his headphones, dancing in "his own little party," as someone described it.
"This is very much how the shows come together," laughed cast member Byron Miller. "It's organized chaos... No, no -- hysterical chaos."
Keenan walked through the room with a stack of scripts, handing out pages as he assigned actors to roles. A sketch called "Lunch at Lupie's" was cut from the show because it requires eight actors -- and only seven are available for the show. Sketches making the cut included the "Muscles Don't Work" Talk Show; a sketch about Mel Lablonsky, the most ineffective police officer in America; and another round of Talking Baby.
The actors then took the stage to rehearse "The Fast and the Curious," a peek inside a class for NASCAR fans that teaches them to act appropriately at the track: how to correctly cheer for their driver, what few clothes to wear if they're overly hairy with "man-tits," and when to worry that their driver is gay. They haven't done this sketch in a while, and it's so funny that they have to keep stopping and restarting, they're laughing so hard.
So how much do they get paid for such dedication? No one will be specific, but everyone agrees it's somewhere between enough for a cup of coffee and enough for a beer. Snyder describes the Perch Experience as "a labor of love." Bass guitarist Jeremy Cline says the band gets some decent tips for its improv music-making, but, more importantly, "It's just a fun gig. It's a great place to hang out." For Holland, it isn't about money at all. "I desperately needed some stage time somewhere with other sick and twisted individuals," he says.It's 9:15 and the show is about to begin. Brice packs up the "box office" tin, remarking that The Perch has seen its audiences double and triple since its neon window sign was installed in February 2001. "It was like, "Oh, they have a sign. They must be for real,'" she says. "Suddenly, people in the neighborhood felt it was OK to show up."Come the beginning of next year, Perch fans may have to reorient themselves; Brice says The Perch is thinking of flying the Central Avenue coop, taking up residence in a mill building that's being renovated off Hawthorne Lane. The new space would provide seating for 100 and more room backstage.
As it is now, the backstage area can get tight, especially when cast members, or maybe stage manager Andy Grosso, are running around looking for props that have gone missing.
Tempers rarely flare, Brice says, because the cast is incredibly simpatico. Brice has three rules: cast members must have "real" (day) jobs in order to keep some outside focus in their lives; they can't be high maintenance; and they're not permitted to possess large egos.
"If you can't get along," she continues, "it's not funny."
Rogers moves to the front of the stage, to give the crowd its five-minute warning. Now's the time, he says, to use the restroom and to order more beer, cookies and Nip-Chee crackers. "Who likes Nip-Chee crackers?" he asks, already getting the audience involved. While some folks take advantage of the warning, he regales the rest of the crowd with tales of his bowel movements.
Next up is Keenan, who explains to newcomers that, despite what their friends may have told them, all The Perch performs is gay porn. He then recites The Perch rules:
#1: Tip the band. "Prostitution is still illegal in Charlotte, unfortunately."
#2: When the stuffed parrot drops from the ceiling, the sketch is over. That's the time to head for the bathroom or the kitchen. When the parrot goes up, a sketch has started, and you're not advised to go back to your seat. "You could be put in a sketch," Keenan explains, "and that would suck for you. I'm not a psychic, but I see lots of dick jokes in your future."
#3: Using the crayons provided, circle your favorite sketches in your program. That's how the cast knows what audiences like best, so they can put together new Audience Favorites shows, like this one.
#4: Turn your cell phones and pagers off, or set them to vibrate.
After the seriousness of the rules, Keenan subtly reminds audience members that they're here to laugh. He launches into a medley of rap songs set to Cline's acoustic guitar. "My name is Humpty," he sings, leading into the Humpty Dance. Moments later, he has the audience howling as he speaks the finale. "Ice Ice Baby. Too cold! Too cold!. . .Enjoy the show, everyone!"
The Perch Audience Favorites (Part II) will be presented Friday and Saturday, July 26-27, at 9pm, 11pm and 1am. For reservations, go to www.theperch.com or call 704-372-7724.
