Life lessons from improv class
by Jack Cheng
The moment you step onto the stage, you can’t help but notice the prescient words painted on the wall behind the audience, “Follow the fear.” The quote belongs to the late Del Close, one of the fathers of modern improvisational theater. Close is known for having taught the likes of Bill Murray and John Belushi, and his spirit lives on at the People’s Improv Theater in Manhattan.
A dozen others and I have gathered here for an Intro to Improv class on a misty Sunday evening. We’re under the tacit agreement that we’re all trying something new and will likely make fools of ourselves in the process. But it’s okay, because what happens at Improv stays at Improv (well, mostly). We’re here for the first of four weekly sessions, and the fact that our audience comprises of fifty empty folding chairs makes the fear only slightly less poignant.
“Our goal here is to reduce the distance between your brain and your mouth,” declares our instructor Kimmy Gatewood. She starts things off with an icebreaker: each of us has to invent a signature body gesture to go along with our names. The goal is to keep going back and forth as quickly as possible.
This is the first of many improv games that seem, on the surface, more apropos for summer camp. However, they are all designed to introduce us to the core philosophy of improvisational theater: “Yes, and…” Meaning, “Yes, I accept your idea and I’m going to make it better,” versus “No, I have a better idea.” Improv is about accepting what’s given to you and then moving the scene along.
“What if it doesn’t make sense?”
“I don’t know how it’s supposed to end.”
“Is it my turn yet?”
“What if I sound like an idiot?”
These are thoughts running through my head as I await my turn in the second week’s class. Twelve of us have arranged ourselves in a circle as the person standing in the middle breaks out into song. She sings until someone else taps in and performs a new song, and so on. It’s a karaoke lightning round, except without the help of music or on-screen lyrics. The first run-through is a mess. Some are left repeating bits of chorus while the students on the outside stand paralyzed, trying to think of another tune. Kimmy points out that when we each have a different playlist in our heads, we stop listening. We have to open our ears to what is happening in front of us.
Once we get rolling, the inertia from that initial step (the “yes”) carries us to the next one (the “and…”).
In improv you’re never alone. You’re constantly getting new creative fodder, whether it’s the actions of your fellow actors or feedback from the audience. If you have a separate agenda from the rest of the team, it shows.
Probably most people think improv is too difficult, something they could never personally do, when in fact it is a familiar human experience. “We improvise every single day of our lives –
not knowing the next words out of our mouths in a conversation with a friend or co-worker,” says Kimmy.
Of all the improv games and exercises we learn in our four-week class, the ‘three-line scene’ is perhaps the most enlightening. In it, two people perform the beginning of what could be turned into a full improv scene. The first person gives the partner a name and begins with a simple physical observation of the other person. The second person does the same in return, additionally placing them at a particular location. The first actor then responds, adding more detail to the scene. It goes something like this:
“Hey Tony, I like your shoes.”
“Thanks Sarah, I see you’ve come to the dance floor prepared.”
“Yes I have. Hey, they’re calling our number! Let’s get ready.”
In just three lines, the actors have established context for the audience, and most importantly, for themselves. We immediately know who is in the scene, how they are related to each other, where they are, and what they’re doing. At the same time, the actors still have plenty of creative leeway to communicate something interesting and answer other questions like, “Why are they there?” and “What’s going to happen next?”
It’s all about creating context.
The three-line scene – along with the other exercises and games we have played – draw to a head during the final week of class, when we take everything we’ve learned and perform several extended scenes. While we might not be headlining at Second City anytime soon, to the dozen of us realizing just how far we’ve come, we’re the hottest show in town that night.
