yeslabyrinth

[yeslabyrinth]

YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO... ARGUMENTATIVE SCENES

I'm continuing my series "You Should Be Able To Do..." where I explore some improv "rules" that are really just a place holder by teachers saying, "This is a little bit too complicated. Don't worry about it right now."

 This week, I want to talk about a super common note we're told.

 DON'T ARGUE IN SCENES

 This is like being told not to splash water in the pool. Argumentative scenes are going to happen, and to try to avoid them altogether would lead to some really boring scenes. We want our characters to react, and give emotional, honest responses, and it's natural that this may lead to some sort of conflict between our characters. So, instead of avoiding argumentative scenes, let's avoid the pitfalls of argumentative scenes.

 PITFALL# 1) You can argue, just don't argue about what is TRUE in your scene.

 I would say the #1 pitfall in argumentative scenes is that it is so easy to disagree on the facts of the scene. Any good improv scene is built on the principle of "yes, and", and if in our scene we can't even agree on what is true, we're not saying yes. Let me give an example:

  DENISE: "I am going to hang the Christmas lights up, and it's going to be so  beautiful."

 ALISON: "Ugggh. You are the worst decorator I know."

 DENISE: "What? I thought you loved my decorating?"

 ALISON: "I don't. It is ugly, and stupid."

 This is a pretty typical beginning to an argumentative improv scene. If you notice, these improvisers haven't agreed on the fundamental elements of the scene. Are we clear on whether or not Denise is a good decorator? No. No we're not. Denise says she is, but Alison says she is not. We haven't even yes'd the basics of this scene. It's a trap that so many argumentative scenes fall into. If we can't agree on the basics of our scene, how can we ever build on top of them? If one person says the sky is blue, and the other says it's red, and neither of you budge, we live in this wishy washy scene where the audience has no clue what is real, and so they don't know who to side with. Both sides are equally credible, but neither side can agree on what is TRUE.

 Let's try this again, but let's have our improvisers agree on the truth of the scene.

 DENISE: "I am going to hang the Christmas lights up, and it's going to be so beautiful."

 ALISON: "Ugggh. You are the worst decorator I know."

 DENISE: "That's true, but this time will be different."

 ALISON: "Last year it was bad, and the year before that it was bad too."

 DENISE: "Yeah. I got voted worst decorator in the city."

 ALISON: "And how's that working out for you?"

 So, we have at least agreed on the truth of this scene. Alison says Denise is a terrible decorator, and Denise accepts that to be true. This may not seem like much, but it's something I see so often in improv scenes. One character is accused of some behavior, and instead of just accepting that behavior as a gift in our scene, we try to argue that it's not true. It's a very normal human thing to defend yourself against accusations, but in improv, think of any accusation as a character gift. Say yes to it. Agree to it so your scene can move on.

 That said, in this last example, we said "yes", but we did not, "and" it. No new information was added. Denise agreed that she is a terrible decorator, and Alison followed it up with a sentence citing a non-specific example of how in the past she has been bad at it, then Denise says she was voted worst decorator, and then Alison says she doesn't expect her to change. Although we added dialogue, almost no new information was added. If you wanted to argue, you could say that we learned she was voted worst decorator last year, but that's not adding much of anything aside from just restating what we already know. Denise is bad at decorating. This gets us to the next pitfall with argumentative scenes.

   PITFALL# 2) A lack of specifics and new information.

It is so easy in an argumentative scene to stop adding new information. You want to argue about who is right, or wrong, and so we just keep circling around the same information we already have. Or when someone offers a new twinkling bit of information, we skim past it, and just go back to what we already know in the scene.

Let's do this example again, but have each new line adding information, and specifics.

 DENISE: "I am going to hang the Christmas lights up, and it's going to be so beautiful."

 ALISON: "Ugggh. You are the worst decorator I know. You decorated your car and you can't even see through the windshield."

 DENISE: "Yeah. But is it not cute? "

 ALISON: "That's true, I guess. Can you at least decorate the tree so we can still see the tree when it's done this year?"

DENISE: "To truly decorate something is to obscure it completely." ALISON: "Yeah, I guess that's true." See how much clearer of a scene we have now after adding more specifics? Now we know more of what makes Denise a bad decorator. She is the type of person who just adds tons of crap on top of something and calls it decorating. She believes to truly decorate something, you need to cover it completely in something new. This is a very specific point of view for her character. I said it in a previous blog, but as a scene goes on, we need to know what THIS scene is. It's like the genus, phylum chart in science. We have broad vertebrates, then mammal, then ape, then human. As our scene goes on, we need to know what exactly THIS scene is. It may start as something we've seen a million times, like a couple making dinner, but as we go on, and add specifics to the scene, we narrow it down so we know exactly what separates this scene of a couple making dinner from all the other ones you've seen before. There is only one real pitfall I have left with the last scene about decorating. PITFALL# 3) Giving into the unusual character beliefs. For an argumentative scene to be good, there needs to be this healthy back and forth of allllmmmooooosssttt being convinced by the other person's logic, but defending your side. If you are the character with the unusual point of view, you want to argue for it in the most rational way this irrational behavior could be argued for. If you are the non-unusual character, you want to find the holes in the other person's logic, and point them out. You want to be a scanner for BS in your scene. This is how the scene can sustain arguing for long periods of time, and not just seem stagnant. If you don't call them out on their BS, you make their unusual behavior normal, and your scene has to find something new to be about.   In the previous iteration of this scene, Alison says, "Yeah, I guess that's true.", when Denise said, "To truly decorate something is to obscure it completely." No. That's not true. That's not true at all. Now, maybe Alison didn't call it out because she realized she was arguing in the scene, and a coach told her not to argue so much. Maybe she did it because she wanted to move onto something else in the scene. Maybe she just wasn't listening well enough, and thought that Denise's logic wasn't flawed.  No matter what, Alison needs to poke holes at Denise's logic. It gives Denise a chance to defend her rationale, most likely in some equally unusual way, and then Alison can call BS on that too. When we are doing this scrutiny of the other person's unusual behavior, and adding specifics, and agreeing to the base reality, there is so much kindling for the fire, that it doesn't matter if these characters are arguing or not. Let me give one last example where they are doing all three things at once. It'll start just like the last round, but here Alison will push back on Denise's logic. DENISE: "I am going to hang the Christmas lights up, and it's going to be so beautiful."

 ALISON: "Ugggh. You are the worst decorator I know. You decorated your car and you can't even see through the windshield."

 DENISE: "Yeah. But is it not cute? "

 ALISON: "Who cares if something is cute if it's a hazard to their health?"

 DENISE: "Fashion over function."

ALISON: "You're telling me that if you were scuba diving, you'd rather have a cute tank with no air than an ugly tank with air?" DENISE: "I would rather die than to be tasteless."

ALISON: "You WOULD die! You would definitely die from that!"

DENISE: "Then at least I'd die gorgeous."

This scene could continue this little repartee for a surprisingly long amount of time. Of course, at some point in argumentative scenes, say we're in a monoscene, you may want to find something else to discuss, and get away from this whole subject. That is totally fine. Let's just make sure we don't let these unusual points of view, and opinions go by in our scenes. Let's make sure we are constantly adding specific details about everything to our scene, especially specific emotions we are feeling, and thoughts we have when we hear BS. Let's agree to the base reality of the scene while still disagreeing on the behavior or logic of our scene partner.

Let's argue, and let's argue well.

[yeslabyrinth]

YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO... STRANGER SCENES

I'm starting a new series called, "You Should Be Able To Do...", where I explore ways of doing scenes we're told not to do in improv. There are a lot of place holder rules that we teach newer improvisers as a way of avoiding difficult scenes, but I think it's easier to equip them with the tools they need for these scenes. Scenes like: Transaction scenes Teaching scenes Argumentative scenes All of these things are actually going to be fairly common scenes, so instead of steering our students to just avoid them outright, what if we taught them how to navigate the pitfalls these scenes have? Instead of kicking the can down the road, and saying, "Just avoid that for now.", what if show them how easy these scenes can be? Today, I want to start with the most common one of these. DON'T DO STRANGER SCENES Stranger scenes can be tricky for a few reasons. The most glaring reason is that these are two characters who don't know each other, and almost any good improv scene is going to be built on the relationship of the characters in the scene, so if you don't know each other, what's your relationship? I think this is an inherently incorrect line of thinking that just keeps getting passed down through the generations of improv schools, and it's one of the main reasons we don't do stranger scenes. We equate knowing each other as having a relationship, but your relationship to someone isn't solely defined by HOW you are connected (mother/brother/friend/wife/teacher/etc.), but the way in which people regard and behave towards each other. For example, I have seen a lot of scenes go wrong with a husband, and wife even though it was completely obvious to the audience that they were husband, and wife. What made these scenes fall flat isn't that I didn't know how these characters knew each other, but that I didn't know how they felt about each other, or why they felt that way. A good way to think of this is by doing an exercise called "showing your relationship." I have two people do a scene, and I whisper their relationship to them individually, and how they feel about each other, but I don't tell their classmates, and they aren't allowed to say the relationship in scene. After the scene is over, I have the class try to guess the relationship, and how long they've known each other, but guess what? There is a twist! I told each of them a different relationship, and a different amount of time they've known each other. That must mean these scenes are just a clusterfuck of miscommunication, right? Actually, they are almost always really good scenes because each improviser knows who they are, and assumes the other person is thinking the same thing. So, if I told one person "You're happily married for ten years.", and the other person, "You're a newlywed who immediately regrets that decision.", even though those are two different viewpoints, they are two CLEAR viewpoints. Each improviser is able to just listen, and react to the behavior their scene partner is giving them, and they know their own behavior, so these scenes are grounded on two clear points of view, even if they are contradictory. The relationship doesn't need to be named because the audience clearly sees how they feel about each other, and each person is a character with a clear emotion, or point of view. It all goes back to that thing of "Show. Don't tell." If you are trying to avoid being in a stranger scene, and so you say things like, "We've been married for 10 years.", or, "We've been best buds since high school.", that's fine, but your behavior has to mirror that choice. Your words don't matter if you don't show that relationship in your physicality, and in your actions in a scene. Often, improvisers will add, "I love you.", as a means of making it clear what their relationship is to the other person, but if you say that, and it sounds forced, or none of your other actions in the scene show you love them, it comes across as a false choice to the audience. Whereas if we both play two characters who are deeply gazing each other's eyes, and holding hands, and just hanging on each other's words, the details of our exact relationship aren't nearly as important as our physicality, and your behavior. I have said it here before, and I will repeat it again just because it's a timeless piece of acting advice from Meisner. AN OUNCE OF BEHAVIOR IS WORTH A POUND OF WORDS. Just to clarify, that doesn't mean don't be specific. Labeling your relationship is fine, and specificity is always great in improv. Just know that saying your relationship title means nothing if you don't show it to an audience. Specificity of behavior trumps specificity of titles. And this gets me back to stranger scenes. Say you are two strangers waiting for a bus. How do you do this scene since the two of you have no deep emotional connections, or history? Well, you start by figuring out your rapport right now. By this, I mean make observations about each other, and also, give gifts to one another. If your scene partner looks like they are somewhat grumpy that you are talking to them, point that out, and explore it. If they are being really nice, how does that make your character feel? Say that. Think about this. Almost every improv scene you have ever started begins as a stranger scene. Unless someone specifically starts with, "Hey, mom, get in here.", you don't know your exact relationship. You have to rely on clues from your dialogue, inferring context from the way you behave toward them, and things like status dynamics to try to figure out your relationship to this other person. After twenty or thirty seconds, you might realize that this feels like a mother and child, so you call the person in the scene mom. You label it, but that label doesn't change everything you have built up to until that point. If it was a bratty kid/parent dynamic, or a overbearing parent/child dynamic, or a hip parent/uncool kid dynamic, those specifics dynamics to your relationship do more for you than knowing if it was your mom, or your dad, or your uncle. It's great that you labeled the relationship, and now both characters know for sure they are mom or dad, but what is going to provide the fuel for this scene is not that, it's how you behave and react to each other. You have lots of friends, but how many can you really open up with? How many do you just party with? How many are mostly facebook friends? They are all labeled as your “friend”, but the specific way in which you treat each other defines your relationship more than that one word.  The next time you find yourself in a scene playing strangers, don’t panic, or worry that you don’t have a relationship. You do! It’s the way you treat the other person, and the way they make you feel in a scene. Dig into that information, and you’ll see that a relationship isn’t solely defined by a label. 

[yeslabyrinth]

DON’T DENY, DEFLECT, OR DEFUSE THE FUN OF YOUR SCENE

"Just react to the last thing said." It sounds like the easiest improv note in the world, but is actually more difficult to do than you would imagine. In fact, I run a simple exercise(That I stole from Cook County Social Club. Don't know who they stole it from.) where I just have two people sit down, face each other, and do a two person scene where each line is reacting to the previous line, and the first line is an accusation, but nothing big like, "You murdered my cat!", and more like, "Did you leave the toilet seat up?". As the coach, I just stand on the outside, and try to stop the scene anytime they are not reacting to that last thing said. You'd be surprised how often I hear this is one of the hardest exercises to do. That's because we tend to think the "yes" part of "yes, and" is reacting to the last thing said, but it's not. It's only acknowledging that you agree with the premise of the line they said, but you haven't added the "and". In the ping pong match of an improv scene, you didn't hit the ball back, you only acknowledged that there was a ball.

 As a fan of alliteration, I've come up with a pretty good summary of the three major ways that we don't react to the previous line of our scene.

 DENYING, DEFLECTING, AND DEFUSING

 1) DENYING- This is probably the most egregious violation of the three. Denying is when you argue or dispute the previous thing said by your scene partner. It is basically saying "no" in a scene. Denying is something most commonly done by new improvisers as a way to control a scene, or make sure their character is "right" in argumentative scenes. It is hearing an invitation for something fun in our scene, and clouding the audiences perspective on which character is telling the truth.

 Sasha: "Hey, did you put a pan in the dishwasher that still had an entire burger on it?"

Dave:  "No! I would never do something like that."

 I've said it before, but the sooner you own up to an accusation in a scene, the sooner we can move the fuck along. If someone asks you, "did you put a pan with a whole burger in the dishwasher?", they are offering you a gift. A gift of being this weirdo/dumb ass who for some reason does things like this. It's unusual, and if you'd just agree to it, we can move along in the scene to follow the fun of this character, and explore that behavior. Instead, when you deny it, our scene is starting off with two improvisers not even being able to agree on the basic facts of the scene.

 2) DEFLECTING- This is actually the most common way I see people avoid reacting to the previous line of a scene. It is when someone offers you a line of dialogue, and you already have your next line of dialogue kind of planned, or you aren't really listening well, and so you don't actually take in what they said. Although it's not as egregious as denying, it is equally as problematic, and trickier because there is a bit of nuance to this one. I think a lot of it comes from the common misconception that we're building this scene together, so you say something, then I add something, and that's how good scenes are made, but that's not true. A good scene is when you say something, I react to that thing said, then you react to what I just said, etc.  

 Sasha: "Hey, did you put a pan in the dishwasher that still had an entire burger on it?"

Dave:  "Man, I got so drunk last night, anything could have happened." On the surface, this line from Dave SEEMS like they are reacting to what you just said, but think about it, are they really addressing what you brought to the scene, or are they adding information that deflects from the line that was given to them? If you heard only Dave's line, would you have an idea of what Sasha's line was? Almost certainly not. "Man, I got so drunk last night, anything could happen.", is a fun premise. It is a fun choice to maybe see all the things that happened because Dave got drunk, BUT it is a deflection from what Sasha said. So, although it may be a fun choice, it is not building off the last thing said. I've used the burger example on previous bogs, but let me remind you. Each scene is like making a burger. Someone lays down a bun(first line/premise), someone else adds the meat(yes ands it), then we add the toppings(more yes and-ing/heightening), and a perfect scene ends with a bun on top(a button/callback) that completes the scene. However, we often start one burger, and then we set down a separate bun(completely new information/new premises), and another bun, and another, but we never fully make a burger. Our scene ends, and we have like 3 half finished burgers, but nothing to really eat. This is because we deflect in our scenes. We add useless information, and history, and plot that distracts from the heart of the scene that we have. 3) DEFUSING- The last way we tend to not react to the previous line is when we defuse what they said. Defusing is when we take an unusual line of a scene, or an invitation for a game, and we make it normal. This is sometimes called "justifying away the game." Again, it is tricky because we may be listening, and repeating information from our partner's previous line, but we take away all the stakes, and the fun of it. We defuse an invitation for exploring something unusual by making it usual(remember all comedy comes from the unexpected/the unusual). Sasha: "Hey, did you put a pan in the dishwasher that still had an entire burger on it?"

Dave: "Yeah, these new dishwashers are great."

Sasha's first line is obviously an invitation to explore a weird choice made by Dave. It is unusual for someone to put giant pieces of food in a dishwasher. Dave's response defuses that unusual thing into a normal thing. He defused his unusual behavior into normal behavior by making putting whole pieces of food in a dishwasher normal. 

Yes, we could from there go on to see how dishwashers in this world clean up dead bodies, or something unusual, but for right now, we took an invitation to explore an unusual character's POV, and we made it normal. This is very close to a denial, in that improvisers normally do it because they don't want to come across as unusual. Instead of owning that you put an entire burger in a dishwasher, you made the behavior normal, and so now we have to start a brand new burger. This one is done.

No one wants to see a problem solved in a scene, they want to see it exacerbated. If your scene starts with someone putting a burger in a dishwasher, we want to see what else this person puts in there, and where else they have been being gross around the home by misusing appliances. When we defuse that behavior, we have solved the problem of these characters, but created an improv problem of having nothing unusual to play with.

I recommend that you run this exercise with your team, and try to identify when we are denying, deflecting, or defusing what our scene partner offers us. It is something ALL improvisers do, no matter experience level, and while we can work around the problems it causes, it is often the root cause of a bad improv scene. If you go back, and watch a set you did where things felt off, see if you can notice people doing one of these three things. Odds are, they are at the core of your scene falling flat. But don't just take my word for it, seriously, try it out.

[yeslabyrinth]

BOO US. IT’S THE ONLY WAY WE LEARN.

When we do short form line games in Kansas City, we always add this little caveat to the audience of, "if you like the jokes, laugh along, but if you don't, boo us. It's the only way we learn." It's a fun little way of relieving that tension in the room when someone says the worst pun you ever heard. It's done in good jest, and audiences seem to always like it, and they will definitely let us know when we fail.

 Well, lately I have seen some audiences that have warmed up my heart(even though the situations they found themselves in sort of stopped my heart)by using this idea of letting us know when we failed you. Over the last month, on three separate occasions, I have seen people on stage(some improvisers, some not, some new, some old) that have made what I would call sexist or racist jokes on stage. Each time it happened, the audience turned on them, and made audible noises to let the people on stage know they weren't going along with their antics. THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME.

Before someone reads that, and goes, "Bobby, you want audience members to tell me what I can, and can't say? PC Police. Humor pushes boundaries. BLAH BLAH BLAH.", let me say this. I don't want audiences stopping your show, or walking out just because you said something offensive, or that can be construed as such, though they 100% have the right to. You're correct that humor can tow a line sometimes, and with improv, we sometimes get cast as a person with an ugly POV, and we have to accept it. If you're a good enough improviser, you can figure out how to do this without punching down, or being an absolute piece of shit, or at least making the piece of shit character the butt of all the jokes. With enough experience, and practice, you can show us this characters flaws, and we can explore "if this is true, what else is true?" You CAN course correct, it just takes a little practice. In fact, you should be thankful an audience did boo you, because what would be even worse is to think they don’t care about the choices you made, and so you just keep making them.

  Let me just use an example I saw recently. I went to a student show, and in the 101 class's performance, there was a male student who was having an argumentative scene with a female improviser. They were playing a couple, and the scene was actually going pretty well for just being two people arguing over a thing that didn't matter to their characters or the audience, but then this man called his scene partner a bitch. The audience IMMEDIATELY boo'd, and you could feel the tension in the room.

THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME.

You might say, "It's a 101 student, and they don't know any better.", and I'll agree with you, but you know what? They now know. They should understand that the audience has a right to react to their choices however they want, and so if an audience deems you calling someone a distasteful name, well, distasteful, they can let you know it. I hope that shame this man felt hops right back to the front of his mind the next time he thinks about calling a female that on stage. Again, you have the right to make whatever choices you want on stage, but the audience has a right to react to that choice however they want, so if you want to be Mr. Towsthelineofgoodtaste, go for it, but expect to constantly get this sort of ire from  audiences.

The audience may do this with political things too. Your style of humor bashing conservatives, or theists, may get you laughs in a certain audience, and boos at another venue. So, although you may think your character who shits on religion is "right", don't be shocked if that upsets some people, because, well, you are offending them.

With either example, I think the audience is booing partially because they don't condone the choice, but also, it's often a lazy joke, and they are upset about that too. "Oh, you find the Bible to be not factually accurate, and you're commenting on it? Woooow. Never heard anyone criticize religion before." Or, "Wow, a male treating a woman with disrespect? Real original comedic idea." You can touch on taboos if you are being smart about it, or subverting what was expected, or not poking fun at people for things they can't control, but if you aren't doing these things, don't be surprised if your entire set the audience is not in your corner. You "killed the cat" to borrow a phrase from screenwriting. You have made yourself unlikeable to the audience, and odds are, you won't easily be forgiven for it. And guess what?

THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME.

So, the next time you are in the audience of a show, and you feel disgusted, or offended by something you hear on stage, please boo us. It's the only way we learn.

[yeslabyrinth]

"It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique. It's not easy, but if you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention." -Conan O'Brien's Commencement Address to Dartmouth The improv world is one of constant adoration. Any improviser in the country can tell you about how great TJ & Dave are, or how blunt, and bold Susan Messing is, or how no one can do what Horatio Sanz does, etc. We also do this on a local level. They may not be known nationally, but in KC, you will hear, "Jessica Hagge calls out BS better than anyone.", or, "I wish I could do object work like Jared Brustad." On top of this, we're always scoping out the new, and up and coming improvisers to see what kind of talent is emerging in our local scenes.

 We are constantly comparing other's works to our own. We're constantly seeing things some improvisers do better than us, and trying to figure out how to add that skill in our tool belt. This is not only a good thing, but a sign that we are self-evaluating, and wanting to get better at a craft we love.

 Now, I want you to distinguish this sort of adoration/inspiration from something very similar that rears its ugly head in improv. It's the problem of not finding your own voice in improv, or more specifically, not trusting your own voice.

 Like I said, it is 100% fine to notice a flaw in your arsenal of improv tricks, and try to work on it. If you were a basketball player, and you could dribble well, and rebound well, but weren't the best shooter, it makes sense to work on your shooting so that you will be an all around better player. What does not make sense is to decide to completely change your style of play so that you no longer are trying to rebound, or dribble, just so you can become this idea of what you think is a "good player".

 It feels like improvisers are doing this all the time. We are so neurotic, and constantly comparing ourselves to others, that we get sidetracked trying to improve on everything except what comes natural to us. In doing so, your comedic point of view never really comes through in your improv. That faith of just trusting your gut in the moment is being blocked out by notes on how to do x,y,z better. With that, let me revisit the fuller context of Conan O'Brien's commencement speech. "Way back in the 1940s there was a very, very funny man named Jack Benny. He was a giant star, easily one of the greatest comedians of his generation. And a much younger man named Johnny Carson wanted very much to be Jack Benny. In some ways he was, but in many ways he wasn't. He emulated Jack Benny, but his own quirks and mannerisms, along with a changing medium, pulled him in a different direction. And yet his failure to completely become his hero made him the funniest person of his generation. David Letterman wanted to be Johnny Carson, and was not, and as a result my generation of comedians wanted to be David Letterman. And none of us are. My peers and I have all missed that mark in a thousand different ways. But the point is this : It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique. It's not easy, but if you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention." Conan is touching on something so very real. We're not wrong in our pursuits to want to be like other people we admire, but we are wrong in thinking we can ever become them. Or even worse, we're wrong in not realizing that which makes us great is our individuality. The unique way in which our experiences, our failures,and our aspirations have made us into, well, us. I'm not giving some hippie spiel about how anyone can be a great comedian, but I am saying that the greatest comedians have a unique and clear voice. A way in which they act, and react that defines them. Yes, it is probably an amalgamation of various failed attempts of copying others, but what makes them great, is how all those failed attempts finally allowed what was inside of them all along to feel comfy enough to come out on display. So, I urge you to continue to try to improve on all the improv skills you feel need work. I urge you to sometimes stress about being stuck in a wheelhouse, or archetype that you're tired of defaulting to. I urge you to watch your peers, and heroes, and strive to be as great as they are. And most importantly, I urge you to realize that one day, with enough practice, you will be comfy enough in your own shoes to just be yourself onstage, and that is the best thing you can be. Be yourself.  

[yeslabyrinth]

THANKS, KC FRINGE FESTIVAL!

I'm not sure if this year's KC Fringe had the most improv shows it's ever had, but by my count, there were 6 improv shows that went on, and another handful of projects put on by prominent improvisers in the KC area. I just wanted to say how amazing this is, how amazing Fringe was, and extend a big thanks to everyone who helped with Fringe.

 Improv is foreign to a lot of people outside of our bubble. I know we sometimes forget that, and it's sort of the nature of niche art stuff, but it doesn't mean we don't want to appeal to everyone, and draw people in. I think one of the hardest parts in doing what we do is that all it takes is one "bad" improv show, and people think that is the whole art form. I can't tell you the amount of times I've heard people say, "we saw improv once 4 years ago, and it was baaaaaaad, so we never went again." Like, can you imagine if you saw one play that you didn't like, and so you never went to see a play again? People seem to want improv to blow their mind every time, and while that is what we strive for, there are so many variables to take into account, that we know this isn't going to happen.  

 But to get back on subject, there were so many improv shows this year, and so many people seeing their first improv show. I hosted That's No Movie's shows, and every night there were a good amount of people who had never seen improv. Thank god for avenues like Fringe where artists can try to make something experimental, and take chances, while audiences can dip their toes into a medium of art they may be unfamiliar with. In any city, the playwrights go to plays primarily, and the musicians go to music shows primarily, and on, and on. You can't fault people for sticking to their little worlds, but things like Fringe allow easy movement from one bubble into another, and I am so thankful for that. Lastly, improv teaches us to take risks, and it challenges us to get outside of our comfort zones. We can get soooooo good at doing these things in improv, but not outside of it. I encourage you to please, please, please start extending this comfortableness with the uncomfortable, this familiarity with the unfamiliar, and apply it to your real life. We can only do improv based on our experiences, and if all we experience is improv, we're gonna get meta real quick.

[yeslabyrinth]

DEEP-AK  THOUGHTS

I recently found out that Deepak Chopra has talked about improv, and how to apply it to your life. I feel that if he is qualified to speak about improv, than I am qualified to speak about the things Deepak talks about. So, here are my DEEP-AK THOUGHTS:

On a quantum level, everything is improv. Electrons circle atoms in random ways which we animate as spirals, but are really not spirals at all. They are improv.

A God with a purpose created everything, but only after getting the suggestion from an audience.

"Be", said the audience, and the rest was made up on the spot.

The Double-slit experiment famously proved that by observing a particle, we change the outcome of the experiment. Come change the outcome of our experiment this Saturday at Gooseneck Improv where my team The Homeo-paths will be opening up the night. Family friendly show, and beers are just $3.

Human beings are made of body, mind and spirit. Of these, spirit is primary, for it connects us to the source of everything, the eternal field of consciousness. Another name for the eternal field of consciousness is the base reality.

When the rhythms of our body-mind are in synch with nature's rhythms, when we are living in harmony with life, we are living in the state of grace. If an immense sense of grace takes you over while you are on the sidelines, that's probably a good place to sweep edit.

An improv scene can only live so long. The telomeres of it's cells can only divide so many times. That is, unless you buy my Telo-More Improv Crème for just $99.99 a bottle.

String theory teaches us that there are a near infinite amount of possibilities to every action we make, but some groups of strings may all be converging in one direction of possibility, almost acting in a predestined way. One of the most common predestinations is the word "dildo", so don't be surprised when it is offered as a suggestion.

Western science is still frozen in an obsolete, Newtonian worldview that says you and I are physical entities of the physical universe. We are not that. We are a wave of consciousness. A drop in an ocean, but also the ocean in the drop. Now, can I get three people up for the game of Multi-Headed Expert?!?

The worst curse to befall anyone is stagnation, a banal existence, the quiet desperation that comes out of a need for conformity. Break that conformity in your improv. Grow a beard. Wear flannel. Be upper-middle class, but play characters who are poor.

So many things happen for every event, and if you try to manipulate it, it means you are struggling against the whole universe, and that's just silly. Dave said you are a monster made of farts, so stop being silly, and be a monster made of farts.

Western civilization, and its atheists, imagine God to be this old white man, with a white beard. That He's a sexist, misogynistic entity who is floating in the skies directing our actions. How absurd. We know God is all these things, but he was a man by the name of Del Close who lived on Earth.  

[yeslabyrinth]

A TEACHING LESSON ON TEACHING LESSONS

I've been an improv instructor for about 3 years now. If my math is correct, I did improv for almost 3 years before I ever attempted to teach improv. I knew I wanted to teach, and I knew some of the characteristics of improv classes I have liked, and would want to replicate, but I was still nervous to teach. The things I feared the most were the same fears I had in my early improv. What if I suck? What if people realize I am a fraud? Why would someone want to see me do this when there are x,y,z people around town?

 Like most things that induce these kinds of fears, my brain made the situation more terrifying than it was. After doing some exposure therapy of sorts by teaching small one-off workshops, then eventually longer ones, and then full blown weekly classes, that fear sort of disappeared without me realizing it. Today's blog is going to be on some tips for teaching improv, but I wanted to let you know that if you have that itch, but are feeling any of these anxieties, you are not alone, and I hope your desire to teach overcomes any self doubt you have in your heart.

 Now, with all that said, let me lay out some basic ground rules to help you structure a class you want to teach.

RULE # 1: TEACH YOURSELF FIRST

 Although there will be times where you may teach a subject you don't know very well because it's part of a school's curriculum, in general, you should know what you are teaching forwards and backwards. You should take in all podcasts, books, and other resources on the subject that you can find. Reading about how UCB does character vs how  Second City does character helps you see what is different between the schools, but also, what is similar. You start to see what seems universal, and what is more open for interpretation. Your students should always be encouraged to ask questions, and in general, they will ask things that are kind of dependent on what works for them. "How do I get better at characters?" Well, there are SO many schools of thought on this, you should be able to give them some general answers, as well as point them in a direction where they can do their own research, and find what works for them.

RULE # 2: YOUR LESSON PLAN SHOULD BUILD TO SOMETHING The best workshops I have ever taken felt like they were constructed like a well oiled machine. This part connects to this part, which connects to this, etc. When structuring your lesson plan, try to make all the parts work towards something. If your class is about listening, the warm-ups, the exercises, the scenes, the form you have them run, should all be done with a focus on listening.

 RULE # 3: PLAN TOO MUCH I would rather write a lesson plan where I have too many exercises to do, than too few. I'll usually plan things like here is exercise A to get them to understand this, then there is exercise B, and if I have time, exercise C. You'll find out that sometimes things don't go as planned. Something you thought would take half an hour only took 10 minutes, and vice versa. If you've taught a while, you can always kind of adapt, and use exercises you know to work on problems that arise, but even then, over plan it. Err on the side of having too much to do as opposed to just enough.  RULE #4: MISTAKES ARE TEACHABLE MOMENTS Every instructor will have their own amount of direct feedback they give, and even that varies depending on if it is a one-off workshop where you may never see these people again, or a team you've been teaching for six months. No matter what, I have found that students like direct, clear feedback. If they do a scene, and it just fell flat on it's face, you telling them, "that was great.", makes you seem less credible. At the same time, we don't want them to be afraid of a teacher who will criticize them over small mistakes in an art form they are falling in love with. So, when bad scenes happen, use it as a moment to understand why they happened. Were we trying too hard for a laugh? Were we not listening? Were we not making things in the scenes matter to us? Try to address why it happened, and remind them that it happens to EVERYONE at some point. Make it a teachable moment for all students in the room, that way the people in the scene don't feel singled out.

RULE # 5: PEOPLE CAME TO DO IMPROV. LET THEM DO IMPROV.

  If you haven't noticed, I can ramble on about improv for days. When I was learning improv, I had some instructors who could ramble even longer, and although they were some of the most well-versed improvisers in town, and made lots of good points, I hated taking their classes because they would talk for over an hour of the two hour class. Make sure when structuring your lesson plan, that you give plenty of time for exercises, and scene work. It's great to teach some heady concepts, and talk philosophy, but students crave the actual legwork of doing improv. You learn more by doing, so let them do. Your rant on UCB can be saved for after class.

These are just kind of my loose rules for structuring a lesson plan. The things I keep in mind when I am writing a lesson. Of course, take what works well for you, and adapt these to fit your class needs. What's really most important is that you are spreading both the knowledge of improv you have, but also the joy that improv brings you. When your students leave your workshop, they should either be going, "Woah. I learned a lot in that class.", or, "Woah. That was a blast.", or a combination of those two.

Not every great improviser will be a great teacher. Not all great improv teachers make for great improvisers, but great teachers do share a passion for the craft, and an understanding of what they think makes for good improv. If you feel you want to teach, don't worry about being great at it, or improv. Worry more about your ability to share that joy that improv brings you to others.

[yeslabyrinth]

THE 5 W’S ARE REALLY ONLY 1 (AND A HALF)

WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, WHY & HOW Danny Mastrangelo is an improviser from LA that is the coach for my indie team Babies. He is just a fountain of knowledge at improv, and has one of those brains that can analyze scenes, and know right away what the problem is, how to address it, and how to do both those things without coming across as a jerk. We’re really pretty lucky. One of these quick notes that came from his brain the other day arose when we were talking about questions in improv scenes. We(the collective We) all have been taught to avoid questions, and to instead make assumptions in our scenes. I also learned from my UCB coaches that we should avoid questions until we find a game of the scene. This makes sense because once someone makes an unusual choice, we want to try to pull out a justification, or their POV as to why they do this behavior because it will make the scene easier to play, and the only way to get there sometimes is to ask questions. These two notes were pretty much my go to answers when students ask me about asking questions, but there was something Danny said the other night that seemed so obviously true, and so helpful to doing improv, that I can’t believe I had never heard it until then. “All questions are useless except for why, and sometimes how.” <insert mind blown GIF of your choice> Think about it. Who/what/where/when are all the beginnings of those questions we’re told to avoid when learning improv because they force our scene partner into making choices, and doing all the leg work that we could be doing ourselves. “Who is that lady over there?” “What is in that box?” “Where are we going?” “When did he say that?”  Almost any sentence you say using these words to begin with are automatically relying on your scene partner to fill in some bit of imaginary information you could have invented yourself. You could argue that the same is somewhat true about why, and how. They are the beginning of questions so they are naturally going to rely on the person being asked the question to invent some kind of information, but with why, and how have an implied response that will bring out the POV, or shed some light on these characters. If someone asks “why are you doing this?” in response to your unusual choice/game move of being a doctor who only takes Bitcoin, your answer is going to shed some kind of light on your character’s logic, or POV. If someone asks you, “how are you doing this?” in response to using only Bitcoin, your answer can go either way. You could just say, “oh, I just have an app on my phone.”, which doesn’t add much. Maybe it says something about you liking things to be easy to use, but we’d need a good “why” after that was said to clarify that. Or when asked, “how are you doing this?”, you could say, “I know the law says I should accept any valid form of currency, but crypto is the only currency for me.” BAM. We have a character POV from that response to the how question. Now, I am not saying all why, and how questions will do this, but they do it FAAAAR more often than those other questions. This is especially true with why. Remember when you were little, and you would just barrage an adult with an endless stream of why questions? Even if they started responding with bland, generic answers, eventually the digging of why questions would get them to some sort of truth. The whole purpose of why as a question is to get a deeper understanding of something. I think this is a pretty useful tip to keep in your brain, but again, don’t worry too much if you do ask who/what/where/when questions. They are unavoidable when we’re riffing, and just responding to the last thing said. I just want you to keep in mind that their utility to your improv scene will be slightly less than why, and how. Why is this?

That’s a great question.

[yeslabyrinth]

KANYE TWEETS THAT ARE ALSO GOOD IMPROV ADVICE

try to avoid any contractual situation where you are held back from your ideas

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 17, 2018

See. Even Kanye knows that your transaction scene isn’t about the amount of money you’re paying for this dildo, it’s about the people in the scene.

distraction is the enemy of vision

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 17, 2018

Dave, maybe don’t come back out as the waiter just yet. You’ve only been gone 10 seconds. Remember, a good walk on, walks off.

I don't believe in the concept of an enemy. We have been conditioned to always be in competition. Stop looking for something to beat and just be. You don't have to do all the work. Once you start moving in love the universe will assist you.

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 18, 2018

You tend to play scenes where you create a problem right out of the gate between two people, and then you spend the whole scene trying to solve this imaginary problem. Let’s just start this next scene as two people who enjoy each other’s company, and earn our way to this conflict you tend to go towards. For now, just be.

in life, we are all trained actors. When we're born we're ourselves and then one of the first things we're thought is how to act. If you see a kid screaming at a restaurant because he feels something and can't express himself in a conventional manner

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 18, 2018

everyone will say he needs to learn how to act. At home parental acting classes are one of the first steps to us loosing who we really are to "the simulation". Parents are our first acting coaches.

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 18, 2018

Character is just a thin veil over yourself. Also, say what you (the human, not the improviser) feel in this scene. It’s more real, and it’s the truth we want to get to. PS- You’ve eaten a bowl of cereal 3000 times, just mime eating a bowl of cereal like you’re eating a bowl of cereal.

trend is always late

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 18, 2018

You gotta be one step ahead of the audience. If you are this character who cries anytime someone brings up Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and you have done two tag outs where people just bring up JTT in front of you, and you cry, don’t tag someone out just to do that again. Can we take this somewhere the audience would never expect? Somewhere where we don’t feel safe.

been reworking the production shape on these #RATBOOTS 🐀🐀🐀for 6 months. I'm super happy with them. I'm excited about the ability to give a boot the true YEEZY shape. Feels more future. pic.twitter.com/A9miXqZQUG

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 17, 2018

Be comfortable in your own shoes.

me and my friend Anthony Schiller always ask questions about time. Is time linear? I recently did an interview where I placed a high value on time. Everything means nothing until you make it something. You are your validator.

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 18, 2018

Make things matter. The audience will care if you care. Your friend Anthony Schiller, and you like to get high, and talk about time, but why are we watching this scene right now?

You have the best ideas. Other people's opinions are usually more distractive than informative. Follow your own vision. base your actions on love. Do things you love and if you don't absolutely love something stop doing it as soon as you can.

— KANYE WEST (@kanyewest)

April 18, 2018

Okay. Not all good life advice is good improv advice.

[yeslabyrinth]

A CASE FOR THE MOVIE

The movie form in improv is criminally underrepresented in most improv scenes. This is somewhat understandable because 1) the movie form is tricky, and takes lots of work, and 2) genre-prov is a pretty specific niche, and takes an even niche-r set of players to do the form. YOU really want to do a Dragon Ball Z based improv form, but you only know two other improvisers who are die hard DBZ fans, and lord knows if you can convince some theater manager to let you do that show. All that said, it's still underappreciated, and underrepresented in my opinion because I think this gap of being a die-hard <insert genre here> fan, and someone who at least knows the basic tropes of <repeat previous genre again here> is not very large. I was never a big romantic comedy fan before I had to do some of them with That's No Movie, but I still knew so many of the tropes just from media, sketch shows, meme culture, etc. Even if you have never watched a sports drama because you hate sports, you would easily recognize the "inspiring half time speech" if an improv group did that in a set, or the "last second secret play" that wins the game. The tropes of genres we don't even like are too big to at least not know, and that is why they are tropes.

 The reason I am advocating for more people to try the movie isn't because I personally want to see a form like it replace the Harold in it's commonality. It's not because I want improv to be more like film. It's not even that I love genre play (although I most certainly do). It's because the movie form teaches a lot of things that get skipped over in most other forms. I could list off a long list of things that it helps with, but I want to primarily focus on tropes, and how that relates to comedy/game.

  A trope is a common or overused theme or device. So, examples of tropes of a slasher film would be promiscuous teenagers, killers wearing masks, 80's fashion choices & music, etc. Even if you are not a big slasher film fan, you probably know all of these tropes. They have become part of a common shared lexicon. The importance of knowing these tropes and doing the movie form is two fold. For one, it shows the audience all these mile markers that they can understand, and enjoy recognizing. A sort of inside reference, where they internally go, "ahhh yes. I recognize this." It's comfortable, and instantly recognizable to an audience. The second part of their importance leads to the trickiest part of doing the movie form in my opinion. Tropes create our base reality, and we all know how important base reality is to improv. If you recall, a game of a scene is going to come when something breaks our base reality, or what is expected of this set-up. In other words, humor will come from what's unexpected, so it's important to know what is expected, and what's expected in the movie form is tropes.

This is where it gets tricky doing the movie form. You can hit every single trope of a genre, and still have a set that gets no laughs. That's because the tropes are the base reality, but they are not unusual.  Say you are playing a set that is based off of Disney animated films, and you play a talking candlestick that likes to sing everything. In a normal improv scene, this may be a little odd, and you can call it out, but in this genre, it is 100% normal. In general, the comedy won't come from hitting the tropes, but from subverting them, and doing things that break that trope. If you're a talking candlestick who sings everything, and also robs people, that breaks the trope. You expect singing candlesticks to be somewhat trim and proper, and probably have a French accent, so when they start robbing characters, it is not expected. This extra little bit of brain power it takes to realize when you are playing a trope, and when you are breaking that trope takes a little time, and practice to get used to, but once you get it, you can apply it to ALL of your improv.

When you are doing "normal" slice of life improv scenes, thinking in tropes still applies. If you are in a scene that is a couple making dinner, what are the tropes of that? There is the stove with multiple items on it, there is the discussion of each other's days, the chopping of foods, the sorting through the seasonings to find the right one, the little signs of affection, or the frustration of one party with the other, etc. These are the tropes of life. If you walked into a scene, and saw someone chopping carrots, you should fall into playing the tropes of this scene. It's a good way to think of establishing that base reality. What are the tropes of this scene? What are the tropes of a boss calling an employee into a one on one meeting? What are the tropes of a doctor giving bad news to a patient? If we can think of the base reality as a trope, we can generate a lot of immediate things that the audience connects with from their real life. All we have to do then is subvert the expectations of this life trope to find a game.

Even if you are still intimidated, or not a fan of the movie form, I highly recommend you study the tropes of films you love, and then start to think of your life in tropes. This is the trope of my drive into work. This is the trope of me on the phone with my mom. Realizing all these little things that automatically paint a picture to an audience is a wonderful tool to start a scene with. When you walk into a scene, scan what your scene partner is doing or saying, and start asking, "what does this FEEL like?", and play to the tropes you know of that feeling. This will create a familiarity between not only your scene partner, but with the audience.

[yeslabyrinth]

THE PRESIDENT SPACE JESUS PROBLEM

Heightening is one of the trickiest things in improv, and I think that’s because it takes a pretty large amount of processing in your brain. You need to identify what is funny in your scene, and then you have to think of ways either in the moment, or through tag outs, to explore that comedic idea, and play it without becoming redundant, and predictable. What also adds to the confusion is that every school of improv has a sliiiiightly different definition of what heightening is. Some think it’s raising the stakes of the scene, some think it’s taking the game to a new place, or changing the base reality, and then some say it means making the scene more “absurd”, or worse for the straight man. These all can be examples of heightening, but I’ve found that no one definition covers all of heightening. For the purposes of this blog, let’s define heightening as the process of exploring, and expanding on what is unusual in our scene. Quick example of heightening: Key & Peele’s “I Said Bitch” sketch. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LGEiIL1__s This is almost a picturesque example of heightening. We get a comedic idea of “men who brag about telling their wives off, but don’t want their wives to hear them brag.” We see this set up with two men upstairs at one of their houses bragging, but they look around before saying the B word. We then get them moving to the basement, then up a tree, then out in the woods, and then to space to avoid their wives hearing them. In this example, all the heightens come from simply changing the where. They go from bragging quietly in the house, to the basement, to a tree, to the woods, and then to space. Although this is an iconic sketch, I think if every sketch ever was heightened by just changing either the who/what/where, sketches would become predictably stagnant. In fact, this exact problem does come up in improv. If you’ve been doing improv for any amount of time, you’ve probably ran into this… THE PRESIDENT SPACE JESUS PROBLEM

Most of us were/are taught that heightening is raising the stakes of the scene, or taking it to a new place. Neither of these are bad, but they can lead our scenes to some very repetitive places. President Space Jesus refers to these common heightens that you will see come up all the time in improv. We think by just taking something to a more extravagant place, or to a more important profession, we are raising the stakes, but we always jump quickly to these extreme pillars of people/places/things. Hell, it even happens in the iconic Key & Peele sketch above! You try to heighten a comedic premise by taking it to more, and more absurd places. We start playing this game of Mad Libs where we just replace one of the who/what/where with something new. In this Key & Peele sketch, you could think of it like, “Two men brag about telling their wives off while hiding in (noun-location).”, and we just keep changing that location. Again, this is not bad necessarily, but it can often fall flat. We change the Mad Lib blank, but it’s completely predictable to an audience. Remember, all comedy comes from what’s unexpected, so we need to be a step ahead of the audience. Another thing that leads to these scenes falling flat is that someone comes in with a new Mad Lib blank, and that was all they had, but no one wipes the scene, and they didn’t plan on being in this scene very long, and you get that deer in headlights moment. That is why I like to explore heightening what’s funny in our scenes by seeing the repercussions of it, or thinking of it like ripples on a pond. How does this thing affect this person’s family, friends, neighbors, mailman, PTA meetings, etc. Not to rewrite an iconic sketch, but let’s apply this thinking to the Key & Peele sketch. So we have these guys who like to brag, but not anywhere where the person they are talking shit on can hear them. Let’s extrapolate this out. How does this behavior affect their lives, and the lives of people around them? We could see one of the characters teaching a co-ed sports team, and pulling all the men to one side. We could see one of them is lawyer bragging to their client until the judge enters the room, and they begin whispering. We could see a scene start with a priest in a confessional saying, “You said what to God?!?!”.

These are all fine examples of heightening, and expanding the universe, but they too almost start to feel predictable, right? I have found that it helps to take these particular characters out of the equation, and try to explore the ripples of their behavior on the world. What if we tagged out of these characters in the scene, but explore the game without them? Continuing with this example, we could see a wife at an otolaryngologist’s office saying that their hearing is fine, but they want super human hearing to catch their husband. We could see home designers planning secret rooms in every house for men to hide while acting tough. We could see a futuristic world controlled by women where men are on leashes, and cannot speak.

I have really found this idea of taking the specific characters in the scene out of the equation as a great way to teach ripple heightening. I have been running an exercise with my students where I have them do a scene, find some game/funny thing, and then tag out both characters for a heighten/exploration, and then again, and again. If we can expand a game to show how it affects the world, than we are far more likely to remember it later in the set, to not get bogged down in plot, to be unpredictable to the audience, and also it makes callbacks easier. What is most important in any scene is the people that are in it, and their relationship, but what’s most important for heightening is this comedic premise, and it’s relationship on the world. Try thinking in these terms the next time you find yourself in a rut of scenes quickly heightening to President Space Jesus territory.

[yeslabyrinth]

MOLLYCODDLING

  If you haven’t heard this week’s improv drama, a very famous teacher at UCB got into some trouble for a post they wrote. In it, they got into some issues of privilege in improv, and said some pretty ignorant things about it, but I don’t want to address that part of it today, though of course I DO want to address it, just not today.

The part of their post that I want to address is where they said that we “mollycoddle” students too much in the improv community. This instructor thought that when they were learning, their instructors didn’t sugar coat anything for them, didn’t even let them know if they liked, or cared about them, and it was a positive thing in their eyes. They believe this helped them, and others get really good.

Let me first say, this instructor is a very well respected instructor, and definitely has forgot more about improv than I probably know. I have no doubt in my mind that they liked this approach to teaching when it was done to them, and they saw results in doing the same thing to their students. To some extent, I understand that some teachers NEVER give their students direct notes, and this inverse problem is also very problematic. Is it problematic enough that your students need to fear you??? Probably not, and there is a giant middle ground between being an asshole who induces fear, and being a instructor who just tells their students they are perfect, and can do no wrong.

Here are the three main problems I have with “anti-mollycoddling ”:

1) Improv is supposed to be fun.

Now, I don’t expect every class you ever have in improv to be fun, but I do think your overall experience of learning improv should be enjoyable. This is ESPECIALLY true with people who are new to improv. We are just getting them into our improv doors to show them all the positive things that improv can do, and if right out the gate we’re creating this “I have no time to hold your hand” mentality when THIS WHOLE ART FORM IS BASED ON SUPPORT, I think we’re sending the wrong message. Imagine if you wanted to get into jogging, so you join a club, and right out of the gate they start a 10K race? And even if they are giving you great pieces of advice on how to get better, they still are constantly, and coldly telling you your faults? You’d probably never want to run again in your life, right?

2) Just because people stay, it doesn’t mean the ones who left didn’t deserve to be there.

I know UCB has an insanely high turnover rate, and hundreds of new students constantly. In some ways, I see how teachers could become a bit callused, and want to separate the wheat from the chaff, and so they take a more… direct approach to note giving. I kind of understand this logic?, but going off the same example above with the jogging club, if you had 100 new joggers in the group, and you teach in this “anti-mollycoddling ” way, you will be left with some very dedicated people, BUT that dedication is no sign of who had the potential to be the greatest joggers. It just shows you who is willing to put up with insane amounts of displeasure in order to do a task. Again, I get that the people who are left show that they are willing to “put in the work”, but just because people left doesn’t mean they weren’t willing to put in work, it means they weren’t willing to put up with emotional abuse.

3) You can give direct notes without being a dick.

This last point is the one I think “anti-mollycoddlers” don’t seem to grasp. I have had instructors tell me firmly, directly, and without any hand holding, what my faults are as an improviser, AND they did it all while not being a dick. In fact, I think by the time an improviser has completed a couple levels, there is absolutely no need to hold back any note you are going to give them. In my experience, students LOVE direct, and honest feedback as they progress more so that they know exactly what they need to work on. They too don’t want any hand holding, or rainbows being blown up their ass, but they also want to be treated like a human being, and like part of your improv family.

If you have an instructor who you think is being mean, and dickish, tell them that you don’t mind direct notes, but you don’t like being demeaned. Any teacher worth their human skin will realize their mistake, and course correct for it. If you have an instructor who is afraid to tell you anything negative, or give you direct feedback, the same applies. If either of these instructors continue their behavior, find a new one, or find a new school to go to. You don’t have time to mollycoddle them.

[yeslabyrinth]

HOT TAKES VOLUME I: NO ALL MALE TEAMS

I usually try to avoid too much drama with my blog posts. I try not to argue that one school does this or that better than all the rest because I believe it's best to let everyone explore these things themselves, and figure out what works best for them. For instance, I haven't ever said game is the only way to play improv, but I do speak about it as if it is a commonly accepted thing. Again, that's just because I am giving you my own opinion on improv. Take what works for you, and leave what doesn’t, but I by no means have the definite answer on anything improv.

 Now, there are some subjects that occasionally come up that I want to address, and I know they will be controversial, or at least will put some people in a defensive state because they feel attacked. Know that I am not meaning to attack anyone, but I feel like not addressing these issues will make me feel like I am being a coward, and avoiding things that need to be said.

 So, welcome to the first in a series of controversial subjects I will be addressing called Hot Takes.

 HOT TAKES VOLUME I: NO ALL MALE TEAMS

 Saying more women should be in improv isn't a Hot Take. I think no matter what your politics, we all want equality, and fairness. We all want improv to be open to all people, and points of view. BUT, it's one thing to say that, and it's another to take steps towards making it happen. This is where my Hot Take on how to make this happen comes in.

 THERE SHOULD BE NO NEW ALL MALE TEAMS IN 2018.  

 If you just read the above thing, and you're a male who is already calling BS, please read this whole post before you say I'm attacking you, or reverse-sexism, or white knighting, or anything like that, because I am not hating on men. I am hating on a stage that doesn't reflect our scene, and a scene that doesn't reflect our community. You too should be upset by this.

 In general, if you are on a team of 4 or more people, and half of those people aren't women, I want you to ask yourself why that is. Is it because at the time of forming the group, there were mostly only men in your class? Was it because you picked some of your favorite people to play with, and they just so happened to be men?

 Here in KC, I teach classes, and I have to say that about half of our students are currently female(43 men, 40 women). It wasn't like that 5 years ago, but it is today. About half of our audience is female as well (yes I secretly count these things while I am in the back of the theater), and judging by my own internal quote, this has been the ratio since I started 5 years ago. Our audience has consistently been about 50/50. BUT, on average when I go to shows in KC, the amount of women on stage is usually less than a third. In fact, I crunched the numbers from the last two months, and on average for every female on stage, there is 2.25 men. These numbers aren't just from shows I went to, but all shows at the two main venues in town. You may say that this might reflect the number of male to female ratios in our improv theaters, and you know what, you are right. Our main two venues for improv have about 30% or less women on their cast. So, yes, we all need to cast more women, not just indie teams.

 "But Bobby, I have no say over who casts shows at venues."

 True. Which is why I am asking you that if you are starting a new team, try to make it at least 50/50 male to female ratio. This IS something you can control.

 "But Bobby, the funniest people in my class were all men. Sorry, but they just were."

 1) I find this hard to believe, but even if you think that...

2) Cast women on your team! Seriously. Cast women on your teams. Whatever excuses you have are just that. Odds are, wherever you live, 51% of the population is female. Odds are, about half or so of your students are female. But hell, odds aside, we NEED more women on stage. We need to show that our stage is reflective of our community. Having women on stage shows other women in the audience that our community is accepting of, and a safe place for women to play. Indie teams are the heart of any improv community, so we need to start casting our teams with more women. It starts from indie teams and goes up from there. If you are already on teams that are all male, I am not saying break them up, and fire 50% of the people to hire women in their place. Keep doing your team thing. You've probably got a good group mind, and a comfort level in how everyone plays. That's great. Don't lose that. It's just when creating new teams this group mind, and rapport could easily begin with some more women in the group. As I type this blog, I am thinking of all the things people can say as to why they don't cast more women, and all of it rings false to me. I don't want equality for equalities sake(as if that's a bad thing to begin with), but I want equality for the sake of our improv! Great sets happen when teams have a group mind, and so you may think, "well, wouldn't 6 middle class white dudes have amazing group mind?", and I think you're missing what makes group mind so powerful. It's not 6 people who share the same worldview, and nerdy references acting like one thing, it's when 6 people with vastly different opinions, tastes, experiences, and views on the world can come together and act as one, wide, all encompassing brain of knowledge. If you're a white male, know I am not attacking you. Know that I am not casting you out to be the bad guy. If anything, I am trying to help you out here. Every time anyone from a demographic that is underrepresented on your stage steps into your show, they want to have a good time, and feel welcome, and though you may treat them with the utmost respect, and good will, all of that can fall short if they see no one like them on the stage. If we create avenues for underrepresented people to have a showcase for their talents, than more people like them will come to our community. The wider a net we cast in drawing talent means we have more talent in our community. More talent in our community means everyone gets better. If everyone gets better, our whole art form will grow into something greater than it already is. I urge you, in 2018, no all male teams. Us guys will be okay, and in fact, all the better for it.  

[yeslabyrinth]

THE THREE MOST USELESS EMOTIONS IN IMPROV

Will Hines' blog http://improvnonsense.tumblr.com/ has been one of the greatest tools I have ever ran across in my years of learning improv. A lot of the questions that arise in improv, he has already addressed, and in great detail. Not that he is the only person to ever speak on these subjects, but I think he has one of the most insightful, balanced, and caring blogs in existence.

 Will has a motto on how to do good improv scenes that I find to be even better than the idea of "yes,and..." It is "KNOW. CARE. SAY." Choose to know what's going on in your scene, choose to care about it, and choose to say how you feel about everything. In these 3 little "rules" we escape a lot of the pitfalls that come in improv, especially to newer improvisers. Things like stranger scenes, transaction scenes, teaching scenes, all of which we are told to avoid, can be done if we just try to follow these guideposts of knowing, caring, and saying.

 The reason I bring all this up is that I realized that this motto correlates directly to the three worst emotional choices you can make in improv. "But Bobby, isn't any choice better, than no choice?" Weelllll, not necessarily, and I'll think you'll see why shortly. So, let's discuss the three most useless emotional choices in improv.

  CONCERN Choosing to know what's going on in our scenes means agreeing with our scene partner on the base reality they created, and making choices for things that are undefined in our scenes. If your scene partner starts a scene by going, "Get in the chopper!", you can choose to know who they are, who you are, where you are, etc. A first line like this is an invitation to begin a scene, and one of the quickest ways you can send this scene into a nose dive is by not knowing what this initiation means to you. This most commonly rears it's ugly head in the form of the emotion concern. Concern is more often than not useless in improv. The only time it is a valid response in a scene is if your scene partner does something that warrants true concern. Something like they are hurting themselves, or being self destructive. Then you can react to that honestly with concern. BUT, that is usually not how concern appears in improv. Concern is usually the result of one improviser not knowing exactly what is going on in a scene, so they decide to be concerned. "Get in the chopper!" "Where is it going? Is it safe? Are you licensed to do this?" We start asking all these questions instead of KNOWING these things already. We put all the pressure on our scene partner to answer these questions instead of deciding for ourselves what is going on in the scene. I find that in general the people who fall into this trap of concern are people who are control freaks in their day to day life. In the scene, their partner decided to start the scene, and instead of agreeing with what they said, they create all these caveats for boxes to be checked before moving along. The irony is that if you are a control freak, you have the control to let, "Get in the chopper!" mean whatever it means to you. You can be the one who controls the response to this initiation, so the control is all in your hands at this point. The next time you are in a scene, and you find yourself being concerned, ask yourself, "Am I concerned because my fellow improviser's character is doing something concerning, or am I concerned because I am unsure of the exact base reality?" If you're concerned because of the later, choose to know the things you're unsure of. If they haven't been defined in the scene, whatever you say next becomes the truth. Stop putting the pressure on others to know what's going on, and know for yourself.

APATHY

Another almost useless emotion in improv is actually not an emotion at all, and comes from the lack of caring, or lack of any emotions. I of course am speaking about apathy.

 We all get apathetic from time to time in real life, and most commonly we feel it when deciding where to go eat with a group of people. "I don't care. Whatever you want is fine." But do we ever reaaaaaaalllly not care at all about what we're going to eat? Do we really have no opinion whatsoever about what food we're going to eat? I say this because almost anytime we say we're apathetic, we're not truly apathetic. If pressed, you probably have SOME opinion on where you eat. If someone goes, "Alright, to the raw plant based restaurant.", will you have NO opinion on the matter, or were you just pushing the decision onto other people?

 I am stressing the rareness of apathy in real life because in our improv scenes it is so often a bad choice. All improv scenes are about these characters, and how they feel about what is going on in the scene. If you have no feelings in a scene, this scene has absolutely no gas in the tank. You know how I always say a good improv scene is like a game of ping pong. I hit it to you, and you hit it back. Well with apathy, I am hitting the ball to an empty other side of the table. No matter what kind of stakes, emotions, or context I try to serve to you, no apathetic response is going to give me anything to play back off of. Does that mean you'll never get a laugh from playing an apathetic character? No. Will it be almost impossible to move a scene along if you continue to be apathetic? 100% yes. If your character doesn't react to anything happening around them, and there is nothing your fellow scene partner can do to make you care, then we are stuck in a scene where essentially one person is playing by themselves. There is no tag out you can do to heighten the behavior, and even if there is, there is no surprise to what's going.

 Let me give an example of a scene. A student asks their teacher if they can watch WWE wrestling instead of teaching class tonight. The actor playing the teacher goes, "Sure. I don't care." It may get a chuckle out of the audience because the choice of the teacher to not care is a little unusual. From this point forward, you have basically two options. 1) Continue to not care about anything that is happening, or 2) find something in the scene to care about. If this scene continues, and you choose to go with option 1, there is literally nothing that can be done to get any sort of reaction out of your character. "Teacher, can we watch hobo fights?" "Sure, I don't care." Maybe a light chuckle again, maybe? But we could heighten to, "Teacher, can we all murder each other, and sacrifice goats to Satan?", and we know exactly how the teacher is going to react. Remember, all humor comes from the unexpected, and yet we know exactly what will happen with each attempted heightening.

 Now, let's go with option 2. Same start. The teacher says they don't care if the students just watch WWE. Maybe the next line is, "Awesome. Do you care if we wrestle each other while watching it?" Let's say your teacher character decides that this is too far. If we give the teacher some kind of reasoning for this opinion like, "I'm okay with simulated violence, but not the real thing.", our scene just got some legs to stand on. There is a character with a point of view, and we know they will react to real violence but not simulated violence. There is a lot of places we could take this.

 Where option 2, the one of stopping the apathy, and finding something in the scene to care about, can go awry is when you wait too long to decide to care. If for 2 minutes in the scene you haven't cared about anything, and then all of a sudden you do, it can come across as a false choice. Like you finally realized apathy isn't working, and so now you are going to care about something. It's similar to when you're feeling like a scene isn't going anywhere, so all of a sudden you declare your love for your scene partner. It just reads as an attempt to try to make something happen. All of that said, if you can catch yourself making a choice to play someone as apathetic, the sooner you find something for them to care about, the sooner we can figure out what the scene is actually going to be about.  COYNESS

 Choosing to say what's going on in our scenes is a good way of giving gifts, calling out what is weird, as well as a way to avoid asking questions. One of the most common problems I see is people not reacting honestly in their scenes. All these unusual things will occur, and instead of calling them out, we play coy, and act like we don't know weird things are weird. Our whole scene is us avoiding talking about things that are obvious to the audience. Remember, when everything is unusual, nothing in unusual, and it’s almost impossible to find humor in a scene where nothing unusual is happening.

Examples of this are scenes where someone has a secret the audience knows, and yet they never admit to it in the scene, and we just keep dancing around the subject. Another example is where two people walk into a scene, and they as improvisers don't want to step on toes, so neither person makes a choice, instead they wait for the other person to decide. This is like an improv version of when you walk down a narrow hallway, and both people are like, "Ope. You go first.", "No, you go first.", and we're stuck in this standstill of politeness.

 The other way coyness appears ties in a little bit with being overly concerned and what happens when one of us doesn't choose to know what's happening, and doesn't say it either. We want to be polite, and build this scene together, and we're afraid of being a steamroller, so we don't add anything to the scene. I understand your wanting to share in creating this scene, and not being a steamroller, but I don't think I've ever heard any improviser call someone a steamroller for deciding part of the who/what/where of the scene. That's not steamrolling. That is being a good improviser. Imagine you were building a skyscraper that was 50 stories tall, and you get to work, and someone has built the first 3 floors while you were gone. Would you be mad? Of course not! They just helped you get part of your workload out of the way. A steamroller would be if you built the first 3 floors, and they come in and demolish them to start a new skyscraper because they didn't like your first 3 floors.

 I've talked about this a little in the past, but I will reiterate it again. Sometimes our instincts to be good humans can shoot us in the foot as improvisers. As humans we want to know about another person, and so we ask them questions about themselves. In improv, it's usually better to have a question arise in a scene, something like, "why is my scene partner limping?", and instead of asking them, declaring something to them. "It's okay Tony Hawk, you'll land that 1080 one day." I love when I am surprised by gifts like this in a scene. I had an idea of what was going on, but now I KNOW what is going on because someone declared something rather than waiting for the other person to do it.

 The only exception I can think of to declaring things you see like this, is if you're doing some sort of premise based form, and another person initiates the scene by limping. In this example, they probably have a premise for a scene, and are limping because they are about to set up this premise. This would be the only case where you SHOULD give them a couple lines to establish their idea. That said, if the limp hasn't been addressed, you can choose to gift them with anything you want to explain it, you just have to say it.

In conclusion, every improviser, even the most experienced in the world, can fall into the traps of not knowing, not caring, and not saying in a scene. We sometimes make these choices up front because they seem fun, but you will quickly realize how hard concern, apathy, and coyness are to play. So, next time you find yourself in one of these three emotional states, decide to know what’s going on, decide to care about what’s going on, and decide to say how you feel about everything going on. By doing these things, we can immediately focus on what matters in the scene, and start to complete this skyscraper together.

[yeslabyrinth]

2018 RESOLUTIONS

2017 was a wonderful year for me on the improv front. I have had the chance to teach some wonderful independent teams, done multiple shows with the KC Improv Company, and my indie team Babies, won Best of Fringe in a film I was in, and helped make with my pals in Bird in the Middle, as well as started this blog. It feels like I understand improv more, and am a better improviser now than I was at the beginning of the year. That is all you can really hope for.

 I have a lot on the frontier coming up in 2018, and am very optimistic for some things that are happening, and things that are in the works, but in order to grow, I will need to clear some things from my plate. So, it is with a pretty heavy heart that I announce that I will be leaving the KC Improv Company. For the past two years, I have made some wonderful friends, played some amazing shows, learned from some great people, and had the chance to teach literally hundreds of students in my tenure as the head of the training center. KCIC does a lot of great things for the city, and I am sure they will continue to be a wonderful source for education, and entertainment in KC.

 With that announcement made, let me go over some of my big resolutions for 2018, and how I will be spending my newly freed up time. If you know me at all, you know I tend to keep myself busy.

 1) Writing This Blog- In 2018, I hope to make some headway on my goal of writing at least 100 blog posts about improv. In the new year, I plan on making some videos for this blog, as well as interview some people in the community, and have some articles written by others posted here on Yes, Labyrinth. 2) Teaching- Teaching is my absolute favorite thing to do in improv, even more than performing. I am opening up some more time to coach local indie teams, as well as teaching some special 4-8 week classes on improv forms. More info on that to come. 3) Bird in the Middle- I am one of the founding members of Bird in the Middle LLC, and with that, I hope to do one of my big goals of 2018, which is to make more tangible products. Improv is lovely, but it is ephemeral, and hard to show someone your talents. With Bird in the Middle, we make films, sketches, and all kinds of shorts, and with the help of Adam Hoelscher, Aron Wallis, Brandon Durkes, and Max Frankel (and soooo many others), I should be able to make more products I can actually show to people. 4) Improv- Wait, you want to do more improv so you're taking a break from KCIC? That seems counter intuitive, right? Well, not necessarily. Although I get to perform a lot with KCIC, I never got to do too much experimental stuff, or try forms that are really challenging. This makes sense with an ensemble cast of 40 members. I hope in breaking away from it, I can work on some new forms with my indie team Babies, as well as try some other fun things with people outside of KCIC I don't get to play with often enough. 5) Live a little- My wife, and my dog are my world. If you know me, you know this. So in 2018, I plan on taking more vacations with my wife, reading more non-improv or insect related books, and getting that experience of life, that you sometimes forget about when your whole world is improv comedy. I hope all of you out there set some goals for your 2018. The older I get, the more I see how people who set goals, and thrive to achieve them are better off than others. I know it's cliché, but all clichés are grounded in truth. To rise to the top of any community, you need a combination of skill, and drive, and I feel like my drive has been lacking a bit, but that is changing quickly. Happy 2018, y'all! Can't wait to see what we do with it.

[yeslabyrinth]

WE’RE SO ALIKE, IT’S SCARY

I was recently talking with a fellow improviser about different festivals we've been fortunate enough to play. From Chicago, to OKC, to LA, to Omaha, to NYC, we've had the chance to do what we love in front of audiences from around the country. While having this discussion, he brought up a terrible habit that I have seen firsthand, and admittedly done myself. When going to a different city, outside of just saying, "good show", or "hey, where you from?", we barely socialized with anyone. It doesn't mean we didn't have a blast, and enjoy the festival, but we just stayed with our own friends the entire time.   See, if you haven't noticed, even though we all like making jokes in front of audiences, taking risks on stage, and playing all these weird characters, more often than not, improvisers are a super neurotic bunch. We are constantly self doubting, we can be awkward in social situations we're not familiar with, and we tend to stick around the people we are comfortable with. Again, I say this in general, and knowing that other people besides improvisers are like this, but if you're reading this, I bet you agree with me, right?

And I won't even get into why this happens aside from repeating my favorite comedy quote of all time from Harry Shearer. "People do comedy so they can control when someone laughs at them." Regardless of why we do this, let me say why it's hurtful to YOU personally, and to OUR community as a whole. If you're an improviser from a smaller improv city, and you go to a big city like Chicago, I understand your inclination to be a bit intimidated. You step into Second City, or iO, and pretty much every cast member of SNL has a photo hanging on the wall, Susan Messing is teaching a work shop where she calls you all kinds of lovingly foul language, and you have probably seen some of the best improv of your life while on this little vacation. So, when your team plays a smaller theater, and does "okay" in your mind, you can feel unworthy of associating with all these other improvisers in Chicago.

  Well, guess what? The vast majority of improvisers doing improv in Chicago feel that way about other improvisers in Chicago, and those improvisers feel that way about other improvisers, and so on forever. If you let this self doubt, and anxiety stop you from socializing at festivals, soon you'll feel like you can never "make it" in improv, and you will stop doing improv, not because you moved onto some new hobby, or life got too busy, but because of fear. PLEASE DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN. Improv can lead to those big things like being on a main stage of a big theater, but that's not what it is.

Imagine for 5 years you played in a baseball league, and you met some great people, loved playing the sport, and became part of a tight knit community. Then one day, you go to a Cubs game, feel like you could never be THAT good, and you quit playing baseball. That sounds ludicrous, doesn't it?  

This loner mentality can also negatively affect your entire local community too. Even if you don't want to, you are representing your entire city when you go to other festivals. You don't want to go to NYC, and then not talk to any of the local acts, or get to know them. In your head, you may not speak to them because you're intimidated, but trust a very neurotic person like myself when I say this intimidation comes across as arrogance, or being above them. You think, "Oh, these NYC people are too cool.", and the NYC people think, "Oh, these KC folk are too good to hang out after shows." On top of that, improvisers are so alike anywhere you go! For the most part, they are fun, open, goofy people, who share a passion for the same thing you do. You should really get to know them! They've all had good, and bad sets, so even if you didn't kill it, they still want to meet with you, but they too may be over thinking it. And aside from all of this, we are still in a veeeeeery niche community. It would behoove us all to understand what’s going on in other parts of the country, and to get a feel for how things are similar, and different elsewhere. We can pick up on things that work for others, as well as pass along ideas, forms, and games we have come up with. We can see how other theaters are managed, and marketed, and share that information. Or, we can just make some new friends in a new place. 

No matter what, improv should have taught you to say fuck fear, and to take chances. Next time you're on the road, or you have visitors in from out of town, please, like a good improv scene, give each other gifts, and care about what's going on around you.