Whatever happens offstage, there are practical reasons why a vent must deal politely with his figure while onstage. One of the cardinal rules of ventriloquism-not to hit your figure or show too much anger-grows out of the recognition that the audience will always sympathize with the figure, never the vent. Jimmy Nelson echoes a common story among vents, of a drunk who was insulted by a vent's figure and stood up to do it bodily harm, only to be stopped by the audience, who rose to protect the wooden figure.
Professional wisdom says that the audience will stare at a vent's mouth for the first several minutes; then, once a believable character has been established, their attention will fall entirely on the figure itself. One cruise ship entertainer mentions that nine out of ten people who watch his performance do not recognize him the next day. The famed Edgar Bergen had terrible lip control, especially in later life, but his characters were so real and the illusion so strong that the audience disregarded the vent's particular shortcomings.
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But, of course, there's
no way around it: you've got to learn how to speak without moving your lips. If you're starting out and serious about it, chances are you'll send away for Maher's Home Ventriloquism Course, at a cost of $79.95, from Maher Studios in Littleton, Col orado. Inside are all the secrets of the art, information once kept closely guarded by the now defunct Interna tional Brotherhood of Ventriloquists but available these days to anyone who can write a check |
| "Get 'em warmed up enough-they won't be watching your lips," advises mail-order king Clinton Detweiler. |
The kit, about the size of a thick coffee-table book, is stuffed full of 30 pamphlets with lessons tackling such topics as Tongue Control, Synchronization, Acting, Gestures and Expressions. There are also audio tapes, a vent "device" (a Popsicle stick with holes in it that helps you keep your jaw still) and a yellow coin purse that has a face with red lips painted on it. You get a sense that the information has been polished over time, an oral history sharpened by retelling over many generations.
Clinton Detweiler, proprietor of Maher Studios, also sells hundreds of other booklets and cassette tapes on topics such as dialect instruction, which includes lessons in Yiddish, Cockney and Upper-Class New England ("Kennedy-esque"). Pore over the Maher kit and it becomes clear that the lessons teach voice control, albeit delivered in a down-home, familiar style. Whereas voice teachers encourage students to open up their vocal chords, vents learn to tighten, clamp and compress them. You learn to talk through slightly parted teeth and to work especially hard on the sounds that require lip movement, such as P's, B's, M's and F's, or to come up with alternate sounds to approximate these mouth-bending consonants.
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| On break during a cruise ship gig, Ronn Lucas and his "timeless teenager, Scorch" take tea in a hot tub. |
Calling himself out of class on the PA.
Still, nothing beats a lesson by a real pro, which is how ventriloquial skills have been passed on traditionally. Backstage, I meet L.A.-based vent Ronn Lucas, who has his own TV show in London and regularly plays for comedy clubs, cruise ships and corporations in this country. He's of medium build, wears a neat haircut, has quick eyes and appears to be in constant motion, He gives me an impromptu lesson in the "distant voice," the illusion known as throwing one's voice. It's a handy trick; Nacho Estrada realized ventriloquism's potential in school when he successfully called himself out of the classroom on the P.A. system.
Of course, no one can literally throw one's voice; one can only give an impression that it emanates from a distant spot, mainly by changing the resonation of the voice tone. I do as Lucas says, trying to swallow my voice and push it way to the back of my throat, until it sounds tiny and tinny at the same time. My attempt sounds like the raspy voice you might produce after someone has hit you directly in the stomach, followed by the gag reflex. Rubbing my Adam's apple, I wonder how the famous vent Clifford Guest managed so realistically to imitate a fox hunt moving offstage, complete with the riders, horses and baying of the hounds-all with enough volume to reach the audience.