Slay or Shit the Bed? Catch 23 Is a Comedy Death Match

When I first spotted Rene Dellefont at the Euclid Yacht Club, he was sitting on a stool, vodka soda in hand. The seasoned improvisor of Dad’s Garage and organizer of the EARL’s Catch 23, Rene, not one to tire of performing, had just returned from a 10-day improv festival in Canada. “I got to be on stage with a goat,” he told me. Before getting to the meaty stuff—bombing, heckling, and kissing girls—I wanted to know if the goat had told any jokes.

Rene: The goat was the straight man. It’s a lot less sexy and exciting than it sounds. At first it’s funny just because there’s a goat on stage, but it’s not like a dog, who’s been around people before and…in buildings. This goat is used to a farm. It’s not used to 80 people staring at it and laughing. The tension built and it was like, ‘Oh. This is kind of awkward.’ Then it took a shit on stage. Then we all took a shit on stage. Then the scene was over. I learned I’m allergic to goats. I’m still getting over this head cold that I blame the goat for.

Purge: So tell me about Catch 23.

Rene: It’s originally a show from Toronto that some friends of mine created. They’d been doing it up there for about five or six years and then kindly allowed me to take hold of it here. It’s basically Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome for comedy. It’s an all- out battle between three teams of improvisors, and only one goes home a winner. It’s the indie improv comedy show in Atlanta. I’m so fortunate to be doing it at the EARL every month. It was like I went straight to the very top of what I wanted. I’m the guy who’s like, ‘I’m only applying to NYU film school! Fingers crossed!’ They’re super cool to bring me on board.

Purge: How does the competition work?

Rene: I’m going to try to make this sound as sexy as possible. Each team gets 23 minutes—no more, no less. And they have to use it in four rounds. They’re not told how much time they’ve used until the very last round. So you could have a team that’s hitting on all cylinders but winds up with a fifteen-minute final round. Then on the opposite end I’ve been in the boat where it’s like, ‘You have 30 seconds left!’ And that’s all you’ve got to round out the night. So the ride it takes you on is always different.

Purge: Can you share an epic success and an epic failure?

Rene: Early on one of our teams was these two guys, Chris Blair and Mike Schatz, who called themselves Bases Loaded. They’d dress up like Rollie Fingers, the famous baseball player with the handlebar mustache, and they each had bass guitars. They were unstoppable, the runaway hit of Catch 23 for four or five months. They tried throwing a match and still just slayed. It showed early on that this wasn’t your typical improv show. They proved that the show could be whatever you wanted. Plus, they were a band so it was cool to have this awesome rock-and-roll element.

An epic failure would be any time people are trying to be too high-concept and not taking any chance or risk. That’s when you see super-skilled improvisors just crazy shit the bed, because they’re being really careful and trying really hard to be safe. And the show is not about safety. You have to hit the ground and run your ass off, no holds barred.

Purge: Do you practice?

Rene: Not for Catch 23. This is when we get to let loose and play. There are no rules, so why not just fuck around, get drunk and have a good time? Which there is plenty of. It’s such a different environment because it’s not a theater. It’s so much fun to feel like you’re a part of a rock show; you’re part of something at the EARL.

Purge: What’s a moment as a performer when you had everybody laughing?

Rene: There’s no way to answer that and not sound so arrogant. I think it’s less when I have the whole audience laughing and more when the people I’m playing with—we hit that magical moment where everything clicks and all pistons fire. Then you can hear a big roar. I don’t think I’m usually the guy to walk in and drop something that just kills everyone.

Purge: How do you and your teammates play off one another?

Rene: It’s that simple. We just play. We’ve been doing it a while and I’ve studied and taught and it all starts to sink in, but after all that it’s just being able to get on stage with anybody and have fun. Don’t hold back, don’t be safe and allow each other to have a great time—no judgment.

Purge: What are some ways you read the audience when you’re performing?

Rene: There are subtle ways. With Catch 23 you start hearing people moseying to the bar or glasses clinking—all the stuff you hear when the band isn’t interesting anymore and everybody starts mingling again during that acoustic song that nobody gives a shit about. Then there are less subtle ways. On tour once a friend and I were doing a two-man show and it hit a lull. Someone got up and crossed right in front, made it really clear that they were done, and yelled, ‘Quit, you guys suck!’ then left. Which is a lot less subtle. You’re like, ‘Okay. That is someone who did not enjoy what we’re doing. It might be time to change gears a little.’

Purge: I would have quit right then.

Rene: That was one of my all-time favorite moments. We decided that if there was ever a documentary made on us it would be called Quit, You Guys Suck. What a miserable life I would have if five years ago I was like, ‘Yep, I’m done with this. He’s absolutely right. That one guy is spot-on. I am going to hit reset on my life. I’m great at math, so maybe I’ll become an accountant. That would be fun.’ Yeah, I would be miserable.

Purge: Is part of getting better at improv being willing to have those moments where the audience isn’t laughing and the audience is uncomfortable?

Rene: Oh, definitely. You have to know what bombing feels like in order to succeed. I love those moments. If I’m on a roll and I bomb, that’s the best feeling in the world. As primal and as human as getting a laugh is failing miserably at it. Learn whatever you need to learn from that moment and go on. I’ve definitely bombed plenty, and will hopefully continue to bomb as my career extends into the future, because there’s nothing interesting about being perfect. What’s interesting when you fail is where the mistakes are and how those become new branches.

Purge: Does doing improv make you more comfortable taking risks in everyday life?

Rene: I think the answer is no. I am no more risky than I was when I was 15 and afraid of girls. We all went to the fair recently and I was like, ‘Not going on a single ride. Not gonna happen.’ I still drink vodka sodas every time I order a drink. If I go get a coffee it’s always the same. Even when I play cards I’m not the gambler.

Purge: But public speaking is something like the number-one fear.

Rene: The risks I take on stage are part of an agreement that doesn’t translate to life. On stage, I’m allowed to try shit and either succeed or fail. With a girl I just met, I don’t have an agreement that says, ‘I may try to kiss you at some point. You may reject it. And that’s awesome.’ It’s still the same butterflies.

Purge: What do you think informs what people think is funny?

Rene: I don’t know. It just depends on the audience, what everybody’s palate is. Some people think raw quail egg atop a pound of chopped tuna is a delicacy, whereas I’m like, ‘Yeah, not gonna happen.’ There’s a reason Carrot Top sells out his shows. I don’t think he’s awesome but he’s doing something right.

Purge: How did you discover that getting up on stage and making people laugh might be something you’re good at?

Rene: There is no exciting way to tell this tale. I went to film school at FSU and met a bunch of people who had an improv troupe there. I dropped out of film school and moved back home. About a year and half later I was like, ‘This fucking sucks. I live at home. That’s the lamest.’ I remembered where some of the guys had studied improv, so I went there and took classes. During this time those dudes moved to Atlanta and formed Dad’s Garage. Then one day a friend of mine said, ‘Hey, we’re going up to Atlanta for a show at Dad’s Garage.’ I hopped in the car, drove up to Atlanta, and did a show with them. We hit it off again, and…

Purge: The rest is history. Eleven years later, here you are.

Rene: I wound up on a doorstep in a bassinet the summer of 2000, with a note stapled to my skin: ‘Please take care of Rene.’

The next Catch 23 is Monday, July 11th, 8:30 p.m. at the EARL. $5.

Photo Credit: Tim Song