Review: Step Into the Life and Times of Del Close with ‘For Madmen Only’
Bill Murry. John Belushi. Tina Fey. Stephen Colbert. Chris Farley. Jon Favreau. Mike Myers. Adam McKay. Bob Odenkirk. Rachel Dratch. Tim Meadows. Amy Poehler. David Koechner. Harold Ramis. Dan Aykroyd. Gilda Radner. Vince Vaughn. What do all these comedians have in common? Del Close.
A legend in the world of improv, but a relative unknown outside of it, Del Close is the most influential comedian coach you’ve never heard of. When you go to an improv show on a Friday night, he’s influenced it. When you watch Saturday Night Live, he’s influenced it. When you see your favorite comedian freeform a funny take in a film, he’s influenced it. Whether you or I were aware of it, Del Close’s life work has left an inalienable mark on the world of comedy that has lasted decades, creating some of the most prolific comedians not just in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, but also for the generations that came after.
In For Madmen Only, Heather Ross gives him his due justice, outlaying his contributions to the improv scene through a feature length doc that combines archival footage, audio diaries, interviews from his pupils, animated segments, and dramatized recreations in the hopes of distilling the crazy, funny, eccentric, enigmatic genius that was Del Close. Revelatory in nature, you are guided through the life and times of Close from beginning to end, reveling in his brilliance, stunned by his insanity, and left somber by the anonymous fate of a troubled man with incredible talents.
Close was a pioneer in the art form known as “Harold”-ing, a structure for long form improvisational theater the combines threes scenes in three different acts with the hope of making ‘discoveries’ between the disparate scenes. Considered impossible, the doc tethers itself to this creation as Close’s magnum opus, tracing its development throughout his career. We start with The Compass theater trope alongside Elaine May and Mike Nichols when they built the foundation for improv. Then to The Committee where the inception of Harolding was born. Then to the Second City theater group in Chicago where Close struggled to formulate the concept into a cohesive vision. And ultimately landing at the Improv Olympics where all his ideas came to fruition. All of this wrapped in a framed narrative that see Close developing his surreal DC comic Wasteland.
For Madmen Only paints a portrait of a troubled genius through conventional documentary means. Narration guides us through events while students give testimony speaking to his brilliance, and through all of this, you get the sense that wherever Close went, greatness was born. Story after story, pupil after pupil, a culminating effect emerges from hearing so many of your favorite comedians speak so highly of him. He had a gift for the craft, but he was also very strange. Pouring coleslaw down his pants for a better performance, attending a cult retreat to cure his cocaine addiction, and altering the story of his father’s suicide are just a smattering of the anecdotes that make Close an eccentric figure. It builds a dichotomy of character, one that is both admirable and concerning. But as I rattle all famous names associated Close in an effort to prove his importance, there is a simultaneous strain of sadness that For Madmen Only recognizes: Close was never famous himself.
For all the brilliance he exuded, for all the influence he had, for all the comedians he helped shape, he never got his time to shine like they did. The doc speculates on what it must be like to give birth to so many talents, but never be recognized at large. A condition of being a teacher I suppose, it makes you realize the relevancy of the phrase, “We stand on the shoulders of giants.” Del Close never became famous, but the fact that he was able to spawn so many comedians through his teachings makes you realize just how much of a genius he really was.
—
