linden l ane
Funny Business The improv troupe My Mother’s Fleabag has kept BC laughing for four decades. By Jacqueline Tempera
T
he Boston College improvisational comedy group My Mother’s Fleabag has helped to launch the careers of several successful entertainers, among them the riotous Renaissance woman Amy Poehler ’93, comedian Cameron Esposito ’04, and character actor Wayne Wilderson ’89. But creating future stars was about the last thing Barry Armata ’81 had in mind four decades ago when he founded the troupe. “The school was looking for ideas for new student programs and I loved Saturday Night Live,” Armata recalled. “So, I thought, ‘What if we replicated it here?’” From those humble beginnings, My Mother’s Fleabag has become a BC institution, one that is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year. Armata said the group’s name is meant to evoke a “rundown fleabag motel on the Cape—the idea was that every room had a story.” The troupe bills itself as “America’s oldest (and most attractive) collegiate improv comedy group,” but it’s unclear whether either of these claims is accurate. Through the decades, Fleabag members have performed as everything from Pope
1983
12
bcm v su m m e r 20 20
1989
John Paul II’s Angels to, well, cigarettes. Mary S. Timpany ’83 recalled running around Chestnut Hill with a plastic shotgun, pretending to be Patty Hearst. “We were nuts,” she said with a laugh. The troupe has produced a roster of well-known comedians through the years (see sidebar). “I had never done anything like improv before Fleabag,” Poehler told The Heights in 1992. “I just saw the sign taped to the ground and decided to show up for an audition.” Happily, she made the cut. Most of those who try out for the twelve-member troupe do not. In the early days, Armata recalled, “If you had energy and were willing to do just about anything—put on a goofy costume and make a fool of yourself—we took you.” The audition process has evolved significantly since then. Today, dozens of underclassmen audition for the one or two spots that open up each year. Eager freshmen and sophomores wait for their turn to impress the Fleabag cast. The audition is less about how funny you are than how quickly you can think on your feet. “We try to catch
people by surprise,” said Anna Livaccari ’20, one of the group’s directors during the past school year. The cast will throw absurd scenarios at candidates just to gauge their reactions, Livaccari explained. “When they walk in the room,” she said, “immediately we all start saying, ‘Wait a second—I recognize your name from that insane movie you produced!’” How the scene continues from there is up to the person auditioning. Another classic question for candidates: What’s funnier, brick or tweed? (Brick is the obvious answer, said former member Mathieu Gagne ’93, MBA ’02, MSF ’02, “because it’s not funny when you hit someone in the face with tweed.”) To be selected for the troupe, candidates must receive the unanimous support of the cast. “You’re going to end up being extremely close to these people for the rest of your life,” Livaccari said. “We have to get it right.” Once the members reach consensus, they take off across campus to notify their new members, no matter the hour. “We knock on their doors,” Livaccari said, “and one of us will stand there and say, ‘We really liked you but you didn’t get it.’ Then the rest of the group pops out with congratulations and hugs. It’s the first night, so we like to set the bar high.” It’s the kind of ritual that builds a sense of connection, of belonging. And it was that feeling as much as anything, Cameron Esposito said, that made the experience special. Esposito, who is queer, said that prior to joining the group she struggled to
1991
poster: Courtesy of Mary S. Timpany ’83 photos: Sub Turri