6 Benefits of Improv

Like a Chainsaw in a Barbershop

The best comedies all have one thing in common: the characters who populate the story take everything that happens absolutely seriously.  Whether they are busting Zuul, attempting to land a pilot-less airplane, or questing for the Holy Grail, they do so with a mindset of absolute sober sincerity. Whether the comedy in question is the erudite pomposity of Noel Coward or the physical absurdity of the Three Stooges, it's all played with a metaphorical straight face; no mugging allowed.

If the characters in our comedies were to react in a manner unbefitting the situations in which they found themselves, the illusion would be broken and the suspension of disbelief would be shattered. For a comedy to truly succeed, it is imperative that the characters react to and interact with their own reality, no matter how ridiculous or insane, in a consistent and logical fashion.

Watching an improv scene unfold with the suggestion of "hair," we saw a customer enter a barbershop and sit down. A bumbling barber enters the scene. After examining his customer's hair for a moment, the barber grabs a chainsaw and starts it up. So far, nothing is necessarily going off track. The customer, however, does not react as someone would when faced with a murderous chainsaw-wielding barber. Instead, he turns his head calmly and comments on how nice the barber's "new chainsaw" is. 

Everything then goes downhill precipitously.

Countless appropriate reactions could have presented themselves; perhaps a blood-curdling scream from the terrified customer, followed by a hearty laugh from the barber as he gets rid of the chainsaw and explains it's a joke he plays on all his new customers. Not exactly brilliant theater, but appropriate within the context of the platform they created. 

Instead we watch as the barber fumbles about for a moment, suggests that perhaps he shouldn't use the chainsaw, and then lets it disappear from his hands, to evaporate into the ether. The scene meanders on for a bit, but nothing of note is accomplished. There is no miming of actual barber shop behaviors, no discernible characters, and no adherence to the environment created. In fact, there is so little environment created that there is little if anything to adhere to.

The point to be made here is to create your reality, stay true to the reality you've just created, and behave within that environment as characters naturally would. Will all characters behave as normal humans would in all situations? Of course not.

Not all characters

are

"normal" humans.

They must, however, behave in accordance with the character construct you adopt in order for the audience to accept your characters as "real" within the context of the scene. The audience may not consciously sense when an actor is not being true to the reality of the scene, but you can be sure they will sense it subconsciously, and that fact will color their perception of the scene, causing them to 

lose focus and drift.

The best comedy is played in all seriousness, from every insane minute of Monty Python to every childlike moment of Pee-Wee Herman's quest to recover his bike. Strive for that mindset, be true to the reality you create, and the humor with come of its own accord. 

Happy improvising!

Extroversion for Introverts

As teaching artists, Karen and I work with groups of kids from kindergarten through high school. Many are at-risk, and many have never experienced live theatre in any of its diverse forms. We take particular delight in seeing those children who are timid, hovering just beyond the threshold of participation, become drawn into the circle and infuse themselves into the spirit of the performance gestalt (not often I get to use the word, "gestalt").

All that's just a fancy way of saying, "We love seeing introverted kids lower their defenses and become part of the fun." People are always skeptical when we tell them that we are extreme introverts. Speaking for myself, I would rather be home in my chair reading a book that out among groups of people. 

"How can you be an introvert and perform on stage?"

~they ask.

Simple: all you have to be is a Situation-Specific Extrovert (SSE). A SSE is one who can be comfortable in a public performance situation because that person is aware of the rules, relationships and boundaries intrinsic to that situation. I know, when I'm on stage, that I am in control of (my part in) the experience and can trust those around me. My discomfort is allayed and I can function, as long as I know my world will soon return to what, for me, is normal.

This does not make me special; all it means is that I have learned over the years how to cope if I wish to do what it is I do.

The magic of improvisational theatre is that, with proper guidance, anyone can learn how to be a SSE. A primary element of improvisation is that of support; everyone involved, if they are doing it right, is cooperating and supporting everyone else. In stark contrast to stand-up comedy, the improv audience is rooting for the performers success. It's a case of "Let us laugh with you" instead of, "Go ahead...make me laugh!"  

This basic fact is what makes improv an
ideal environment for the introvert

Introverts by their nature tend not to seek the spotlight in social situations. Improv's inherent acceptance and support allows the introvert to feel secure enough to open up parts of their personality  they normally would not feel comfortable enough to share. 

Children and adults alike benefit from the positive atmosphere of improvisational theatre. The longer a person is involved, the more they are able to leave the confines of their shell and venture out comfortably into the world at large. As they learn to sense the boundaries and expectations of potentially distressing scenarios, they will become more and more capable of not only coping with those scenarios, but in feeling strong and in control while doing so.

Happy improvising!

A Question of Story

Re-reading the very first post on this blog, How Powerful Choices Beat Questions, I have the strong sense that I left the reader with the impression that I believe all questions are to be avoided.  "It cannot be said questions by nature are bad," I stated, but then I did not go on to explain when and how they can be "not bad".

It is undeniable that,
in most instances,
statements
are more productive than
questions.

Statements give more information and save time. There will be times, however, when a question can propel a scene in clear direction as well as, or better than, a statement might.

The key is to use the better form of question. Questions come in two general categories: open-ended and closed-ended. Closed-ended questions are those that limit responses to a very narrow range of answers, typically of the "yes/no" variety. They are polarizing, and give little useful information. Open-ended questions are those that require a more detailed response, one that can't be encapsulated by "yes" or "no".

When I was a corporate trainer, I would use the following example to illustrate the difference between the two types of questions. I would choose one member of the class and ask them to think of a favorite vacation spot. I would then ask them a series of yes/no questions to try and guess which location they were thinking of. It would go something like this:

"Is it Paris?"

"No."
"Is it Toronto?"
"No."
"Is it Mumbai?"
"No."

...and so on, until they have clearly gotten the point that I'm not about to guess it easily. I would then change up the question and ask, 

"What's your favorite vacation spot?"
"Boston."

...and voila! I had my answer in a single shot, and hopefully some of the class members would take this lesson with them out into the field and make better use of their questions.

In the world of improv,
where time is a precious
commodity, we cannot afford
 to lavishly waste time asking
unproductive questions. 

We must train ourselves so that when we do ask those infrequent questions, we make them productively open-ended. By doing so we add information to the scene and incorporate it with already-existing elements, moving us forward and advancing our story.

Happy improvising!

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: “Whose Line”

We make every effort to attend performances by local improv groups and watch online videos of companies all around the globe. It’s important from a learning perspective to do so; you can’t properly self-assess if you have no experience of what’s going on outside your field of vision.

In what will be a series of articles, we will be looking at some popular improv games and offering recommendations on how best to play them. Bear in mind, there are as many variations to games as there are groups; what we present here is simply an analysis of what brings out the best in the core games. It is a best practice to learn the game as it was designed before making changes; learn how to play by the rules, and you will learn when and how to break those rules.

The game of “Whose Line” goes many other names, such as “Blind Line” and “Pockets”. Whatever name you use, how you play it will decide how successful you are.

To play “Whose Line”, it is first necessary to have audience members write sentences on slips of paper. How many depends on how many actors will be in your scene. As a two-player group, we get four sentences each; usually three or four per player is enough. A suggestion is given by the audience and a scene is played. During the scene a player will take a sentence out of their pocket, read it aloud and incorporate it into the scene. Here is where things get fuzzy.

A natural inclination when first playing “Whose Line” is to preface the reading of the sentence either by saying, “As my grandmother used to say,” or “Let me read you something from the manual,” and then reading the line.  

While you may get a small laugh from doing so, you have missed the point of the game. 

The point is to use the sentences as dialogue, and then skillfully justify and incorporate it into your scene, moving it forward in a potentially new and interesting direction.

Refusing to use the sentence as dialogue is a fear reaction; it negates an actor’s responsibility for taking ownership of the line. It’s safe to place the words into the mouth of someone else, and it allows the scene to continue unchanged until it sinks to the level of boredom. 

Change is what makes scenes interesting; to refuse to change is to refuse to entertain.

“Whose Line” can be considered a game of “mini tilts”. A tilt is by definition something that pushes a scene into a new trajectory. It is necessary from a storytelling aspect to have tilts; they keep the story fresh and interesting. Every audience sentence has the potential to provide a tilt, but only if it is used in an active, not passive, manner.

We recently performed at a Moose lodge, and one of our lines was “Every start is a new beginning.” This line alone sent us, as a hotel maid and guest, spiraling into a love affair that would not have happened if not for the audience’s sentence. If we had read it as a quote from someone not present on stage, it may have gotten a chuckle from the audience, but the scene would have stayed where it was and been far less interesting.

It’s scary to have another person put words in your mouth. It’s challenging to have to incorporate a strange line into your scene immediately. It’s tough to avoid using the “I’m crazy” explanation when a bizarre sentence comes up. But then again, this is why we do what we do. To do anything less is to give into fear. 

Happy improvising!

Kurt Vonnegut's Rules for Writing

In his book Bagombo Snuff Box, Kurt Vonnegut listed these eight rules for writing short fiction. With little effort, they apply just as easily to the creation of an improvisation scenes:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

Note that Vonnegut himself admits that rules are meant to be broken, but the application of these principles will undoubtedly make for more interesting improv. 

Happy improvising!

Stop Being Funny

Shows like "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" as well as many live shows have given audiences the impression that improv is all about being funny. Substantive improv, however, is theatre, and theatre is more than just comedy. Improv needs to explore all aspects of the theatrical experience from comedy to drama, from suspense to romance, from slapstick to horror. 

Improv is theatre without limitations.  

"Whose Line" and live shows like it rely on a simple format of games to entertain the audience and get them laughing. Nothing wrong with that…so far. The problem arises when the program consist primarily of non-scene games. Games without scenes are the empty calories of improv; they have their place, but should be used strategically. Every great writer and director of comedies knows that people can only laugh so long before they become physically and mentally worn out. Comedy needs to be interspersed with other forms of entertainment to keep the audience interested. 

When players go on 

stage with the

intention of being

funny, 

they will

almost 

always

fail.  

When they go on with the intention of being interesting...that's when the fun begins. I've seen too many "Nyuk nyuk" games to know that when you go on stage trying to be funny, the audience will sense it immediately and unconsciously challenge you to make them laugh. When you play a scene with the intent to be interesting, the funny will come of its own accord, and the audience will laugh as they discover the funny with you.

We, as artists, must play with the audience, not at them. Theatrical Improvisation is the art of mutual discovery.

Happy improvising!