2-BSide 4B —Thursday, October 25, 2018 b-side The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com Marc Evan Jackson only plays a demon on TV, or so he told me. The man behind the all-knowing judge of all matters in the afterlife is Marc Evan Jackson. Despite his role as the devil in charge Shawn on “The Good Place,” Mr. Jackson is anything but evil and, like me, a self-professed, incurable, devout improv nerd. In a phone call with The Daily, Jackson described his first exposure to improvisational comedy as “life-opening.” He discovered improv by playing piano at rehearsal for River City Improv, a group formed by his former Calvin College classmates. “I was there for 10 minutes,” Jackson explained, “and I was like, ‘Oh man, we got to find someone else to play piano because I want to do what you’re doing for the rest of my life.’” There was something about improv that drew him in. It was magnetic, it was energetic, it was everything he loved but he didn’t know it yet. He recalled about that first rehearsal: “They were the smartest, funniest, kindest, most empathetic people and I was like, ‘Oh, I would like to be among you please be my friend.’” After his initial introduction to the wonderful world of improv, Jackson went on to join The Second City in Detroit where he spent four years. Although his time in Detroit was short-lived, Jackson said that he was intoxicated by the city and that “Detroit became home far more than Buffalo ever was, or even more than Grand Rapids.” In 2001, he moved to Los Angeles where he joined a long-form improv group made up of former Detroit residents at Second City Hollywood called “The 313,” named after the area code of the city. The 313 still performs today and includes the likes of Tim Robinson and Sam Richardson (“Detroiters”), Keegan Michael-Key (“Key and Peele”), Larry Joe Campbell (“According to Jim”) and Maribeth Monroe (“Workaholics”). Hanging out in Los Angeles with his cohort of Detroit expatriates, Jackson and his wife Beth Hagenlocker (co-founder and secretary at Detroit Creativity Project) wanted to know what they could do to help revitalize the city they loved. “It became clear immediately,” Jackson said. “The thing that made us all good at what we do, made us all agreeable, nice, interested, interesting people and gave us careers is improvisation and the Why Marc Evan Jackson teaches kids to ‘Yes, and’ BECKY PORTMAN Senior Arts Editor ARTIST PROFILE IN I tried Trump’s TV diet and it almost killed me Students from The Improv Project / COURTESY OF JACKSON Donald Trump and I don’t seem to have much in common. He takes his steak well-done, I’m a lifelong vegetarian. His father hails from central Queens, mine from northeastern Queens. He is overseeing the dismantling of our democracy, I’m … you know, not. But one habit we share has been gnawing at me: Despite having better things to do, we’re both known to watch an obscene amount of television. The consequences of my TV watching are — I’d like to think — pretty minimal (maybe a gratuitous “Seinfeld” reference here and there). But his is a different beast altogether. It’s now a defining feature of his presidency and shapes his politics in real, fascinating ways. What could a medium I love teach me about a president I don’t? In a quest to better understand our enigmatic Commander-in- Chief, I challenged myself to an experiment: a week of watching everything Trump watches on TV and nothing else. Thanks to some shrewd reporting (and the president’s own tweets), we have a general sense of what Trump’s TV schedule looks like — it’s anywhere from four to eight hours per day, and heavy on morning shows (he watches about three hours of them before beginning his official workday at 11:00 a.m.) and the Sunday political talk shows. My weekdays began with the 6:00 a.m. hour of MSNBC’s “Morning Joe,” a show that decided what Americans would most like to watch first thing in the morning is a bunch of Beltway-types gloating about that Red Sox win last night. Guess again, Joe and Mika. It’s followed by an hour or two of “Fox & Friends,” so notorious for its influence over the president that The New York Times TV critic James Poniewozik called it “the most powerful TV show in America.” When the Martian anthropologists descend on the wreckage of our climate-ravaged planet in 20 years, they should take a look at “Fox & Friends,” a beguiling cultural artifact that’s now the most-watched cable news morning show in America. It operates so innocuously, with fluttering pop music and chipper hosts, that it’s easy to forget what the show really is: a daily Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade of conservative talking points, all served with a preening smile. “Hmm, Steve, seems like immigrants are going to kill us all, doesn’t it? Anyway, next up, Charlotte Pence is here to talk about her new book!” And despite their millions of viewers, the hosts are keenly aware they’re performing for an audience of one; a few times over the course of the week, Trump tweeted out headlines scrolling across the “Fox & Friends” chyron. To their credit, the “Fox & Friends” gang was very much on top of the week’s biggest news story. No, not the killing of Jamal Khashoggi, but that Keira Knightley will not let her daughter watch “Cinderella.” If Trump’s morning TV is designed to slowly rile him up, his evenings are designed to leave him seething and stewing. It’s a vicious lineup: “Tucker Carlson Tonight,” “Hannity” and “The Ingraham Angle.” Oh, how I long for those naïve days when I thought being subjected to an hour of “Hannity” was the worst thing that could befall me. The one thing worse than an hour of “Hannity,” I learned, is an hour of “Hannity” featuring special guest Rush Limbaugh, who joined us — oh joy — for the full hour Thursday night. The big story the primetime shows were following this week was a caravan of Central American migrants headed for the southern border. Never mind that the caravan is at least a thousand miles from the U.S., Fox News covered it like CNN covering a hurricane: flustered reporters on the ground, ominous breaking news graphics, alarmist headlines ticking across the screen. And it worked. On Thursday, with a prideful grin, Tucker Carlson played a clip of a Trump rally in Missoula, Montana. “Remember, it’s going to be an election of the caravan,” Trump said. “You know what I’m talking about.” At the same rally, he presented his slogan for the midterms: “Democrats produce mobs, Republicans produce jobs.” It was a clever line, if a familiar one: Jesse Watters had coined it earlier that afternoon on Fox News’s 5:00 p.m. roundtable show, “The Five.” A week of pandemonium ended tamely. A rerun of “SNL,” some empty punditry on Sunday’s “Meet the Press.” And finally, a low-key “60 Minutes,” which featured segments on genealogy websites, falconry and the shoddy state of the New York City subway system. Ah! Here’s an issue where I’m happy to bash Democratic politicians. President Trump, I’ll even write the tweet for you: “Under Governor Andrew Cuomo of New York (Highest Taxes), the failing NYC subway system (very important) is a disgrace. Totally out of control — BAD deals!” It was a week that left me angry, stressed and anxious. And it was a reminder that, for all the unifying power of television, it has as much power to leave us miserable and outraged. Trump watches television like Jim Harbaugh might watch old game footage, as a measure of past performance and as a playbook for the next week. It’s good to want to improve, and natural to care about what others think. But it’s unhealthy to spend eight hours a day doing so. It makes Trump a worse person and a worse president. And if he’s going to spend all that time watching television, he might as well watch something good. We’re in the golden age of TV! One consequence of my television habit? Plenty of unsolicited recommendations at the ready. The President might try NBC’s “The Good Place,” a chronicle of the frustrating human struggle to be better. Or maybe The CW’s “Jane the Virgin,” full of the twisty backstabbing he seems to relish, and with — fittingly — a hotel business in the backdrop. There’s always Netflix’s sumptuous “The Crown,” about the perils of mixing governing and family. If scripted TV is really a no-go? I’d recommend the delightful rebooted “Queer Eye,” which reminds us of the importance of empathy — and proper tailoring. tenants of that, the yes and, the collaboration and the agreement.” And so, in 2012, Jackson and Hagenlocker formed The Detroit Creativity Project (DCP), a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization that provides improv training to Detroit middle and high schoolers by partnering with schools and community organizations. What does bringing improv into Detroit public schools do? According to two years of research conducted by the University to determine the program’s impact, some really good stuff. Jackson explained that it’s “legit science.” Kids participating in DCP’s flagship program, The Improv Project – a semester-long course and summer workshop series that fosters social and emotional learning – do self-assessments at the beginning and end of the program. Jackson reports that many of the students at the start of the program self-identify for social anxiety, social phobia and even depression. However, at the end of 10 weeks of one hour of improv a week, those numbers were significantly reduced, attendance increased, test scores improved and – Jackson’s personal favorite anecdote –“students who have otherwise skipped school that day are sneaking into the improv classes.” Detroit Public Schools are underperforming and students are constantly reminded that their low test scores mean they are “at risk.” For most kids, it seems easier to stay under the radar, to not raise their hand, to not get involved. However, Jackson said, “Improvisation is the opposite of that because in order to improvise you have to be involved.” Therefore, these kids who are told again and again that they will fail, that their schools will fail, that they don’t matter are reminded that their voice matters. Improv reinforces positivity, creativity, collaboration and agreement. “Improv teaches such good and respectful give-and-take and language and communication patterns that just makes life go better,” Jackson added. “It makes you a better person.” Improv is not only for wannabe actors or people like me; it is for everyone. “Everyone should do it whether you have any interest in being on any stage of any kind,” Jackson said. “If my family improvised, I’d go home for Thanksgiving.” “Improv is good for everything,” Jackson reiterated. “It truly is great for not only finding one’s voice and finding what you care about and what matters to you but also breaking down that barrier of defensiveness about there being only one answer and it opens you up to hear and to listen to and to accept other people’s points of view as well. Improv is so wonderful in that regard, and I think it can be a launch point for activism and for getting people involved.” “It’s one little parenthesis in their (the kids’) day where what they say matters and they’re getting laughs, they’re having fun and they are finding their voice,” Jackson added. “And they are being told not only what you say is important, we need you to be here, we need you to participate and it’s your mind, your body, your voice that is creating this work and without it, without working together, without one another, we have nothing.” The Detroit Creativity Project reminds kids that their voices matter, their ideas matter and most importantly, they matter. Because when you create a scene out of thin air, you do the impossible and suddenly, anything is possible. “When you step off the back line in improvisation you enter a white room with nothing in it and then you paint such vivid pictures,” Jackson said. “It’s simply impossible except that it’s not if you do it together.” You can catch Marc Evan Jackson wreaking havoc on “The Good Place” as head demon Shawn or as Captain Ray Holt’s husband Kevin Cozner on “Brooklyn Nine- Nine.” You can also tune into a behind-the-scenes look at “The Good Place” on “The Good Place: The Podcast” hosted by Jackson with guests like show creator Michael Shur and cast members like Kristen Bell, Ted Danson, D’Arcy Carden and more. MAITREYI ANANTHRAMAN Daily Arts Writer TV NOTEBOOK Marc Evan Jackson / NBC Politics & Kanye language Spending most of my childhood in the mid-to- late aughts, Kanye West was perpetually a figure within my peripheral understanding of pop culture. I couldn’t tell you who sang the song “Gold Digger” when it burned up the charts in 2005, but a VHS tape somewhere in my mom’s closet plays to reveal a six-year-old me popping and locking to it at my then 16-year-old cousin’s birthday party. Fast forward to the 2009 VMAs, and I could identify him as the guy who stormed onto the stage and said: “Yo Taylor, I’m really happy for you, I’ll let you finish, but Beyoncé has one of the best videos of all time.” From the beginning, I knew people loved him for his music and people hated him for his actions. By the time the internet became an integral part of my daily teen life, West fascinated me not in his creative potential as a musical artist, but in his contributions to meme culture. My brothers and I laughed ourselves to tears, spilling hot popcorn on the floor when he infamously announced his decision to run for president in 2020 at the 2015 VMAS. When he broke into a monologue on “The Ellen Show” in 2016, justifying his appeal to Mark Zuckerberg for $1 billion in funding for creative enterprises by proclaiming “Picasso is dead. Steve Jobs is dead. Walt Disney is dead.” I used the phrase for comical effect in my high school speech class. These events were parallel to my first encounters with rap music on a less-than-radio-single level, as artists like Kendrick Lamar and Travis Scott began to pique my interest — in no way could I have envisioned West as these rappers on an artistic level when his antics spoke louder than his music to the public. My relationship with Kanye West has changed since high school. After a semester’s worth of Shazam-ing my roommate’s playlists during my freshman year, I caved in and downloaded The Life of Pablo, “Highlights” and “Fade” making frequent appearances on my playlists. I then downloaded The College Dropout, and Late Registration, and Graduation and — well, you get the picture. The point is, I saw Kanye for the artist he is for the first time, with his bold storytelling, profound skits and dynamic and influential sound. It is near impossible to find a popular hip-hop artist that has risen after Yeezy who is uninspired by him. It’s for this reason I consider 2018 more the polarizing year for Kanye West than the year of his downfall. His outbursts were unhinged enough for my mother to call me two weeks ago and ask, “Diana, what is wrong with Kone-yee West?” But his three main music projects of 2018 — Daytona, Kids See Ghosts and ye — rank amongst my top 20 albums of the year. I couldn’t care less about what celebrities have to say, even when they are about the president. However, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think Kanye being Kanye was a bit too Kanye this time around. His claim that 400 years of slavery “sounds like a choice” is reprehensible, especially given the platform he used to speak on behalf of Black rights in the past. His recent conversation with and in support of President Trump was haphazard and chaotic, to say the least — it struck me that he had a lot to say, but couldn’t coherently communicate it. It’s also eerie how an SNL parody got away with borrowing lines directly from this conversation in their recent skit. Kanye West’s visit to the White House, ostensibly to discuss criminal justice reform, was a hot mess and further defaced his already polarizing image in the media. Several people have spoken out on the meeting, calling it West’s betrayal of a Black community that looked up to him as an artist and does not feel supported by the policies of our 45th. He has faced severe backlash and repercussions: Charlamagne Tha God canceled a discussion he was meant to have with West on mental illness and its intersection with race. To many people, these antics are perceived as departures from an “Old Kanye” that famously declared “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” following mismanaged relief efforts after Katrina wiped out much of New Orleans. A Kanye that was proud and Black. This was not the same Kanye that rapped “racism is still alive, we just be concealing it” on The College Dropout. Perhaps there is some validity to these claims: Even West says that his opinions have changed over the years. But he perceives it as something more fluid, his thoughts evolving rather than him losing touch with his past. After all, this isn’t Yeezy’s first time flirting with alt-right imagery; in 2013, he unsuccessfully attempted to re-appropriate the Confederate flag by selling it on his Yeezus tour merch. This also isn’t his first time showing support for Trump: In 2016, West announced he would’ve voted for Trump in the presidential election at the tour for an album in which he raps “Hands up we just doing what the cops taught us / Hands up, hands up then the cops shot us.” As ostensible and brash as he may be, Kanye West is more complex than we give him credit for. He shows this in his response to criticism, claiming that the divisive power of political parties doesn’t help to solve racism, hence his acknowledgment of praise for Trump — it’s worth noting his non-album single “Ye vs. The People” explores the same idea. Though far-fetched, the rapper’s ideas by no means stray from nobility to the roots that shaped him. Perhaps things stand out more now than before because they come from a time where we listen to what Kanye says because he’s Kanye, not because The College Dropout is performing well. At a time where his personality earns more critique than his music, it’s not hard to misunderstand the musician. DIANA YASSIN For the Daily MUSIC NOTEBOOK