Personal Variety of Energy

You're in the middle of a freestyle long form. There is no structure, so characters and scenes do not return; each scene you do is brand new. You notice that in the last two scenes you did, you were shouting angrily and standing in the center of the stage. It is time for you to do another scene. Which of the following two options would be best for you:

• Do a quiet vulnerable scene downstage right on one knee.

• Stand center stage and shout angrily.

Stupid question? You'd be amaaaaazed at how many improvisers repeat these patterns over and over, especially in long form. They repeat the pattern within the show because that's what it is, a pat­tern, and patterns are hard to break. Patterns are also another conse­quence of measured thinking and self-judgment, so improvisers go to the safe and conditioned place.

In light of this, I suggest making variety a choice when you improvise. If you are in a long form or other structure that invites different characters and scenes within a single show, keep a mental note of what you did in the last scene and change it up. If all of the ensemble members were to think that way, not only would it give each of them more variety in their performances, but it would also give the show more variety as a whole. It also gives you something to think about other than, "What am I going to say next?" "What should I do now?" and "I wish the lights would go out."

Here are some elements of variety to keep lightly tucked away. If ensembles just put emphasis on one of these, improvisation would be a more layered and entertaining experience.

• Variety of Emotion If you notice that you used a certain emotion two times in a row, or that the show has had a presence of one par ticular emotion, make an opposite choice for the next scene.

• Variety of Volume It is all too common to see everyone yelling in every scene in an improv show. Make sure you are always loud enough to be heard, but play with the volume so that it's not always at the same decibel.

• Variety of Staging Centerstage, facing each other an arm's length away, turned out to the audience slightly is not the only position in which you can improvise a scene. It's so refreshing to see someone come all the way downstage, or downstage right, or upstage by a wall. It breaks up the monotony of talky scenes and is another way to put improvisers in unfamiliar physical territory. Notice the patterns of staging in your show and take chances to break them up. This goes for vertical height as well. Standing and talking is one choice. So are crouching, lying, crawling, kneeling, and bending over.

• Variety of Numbers Every scene does not have to be two people, nor does every scene have to have everyone in it. Look for patterns of the same numbers and enter or exit a scene accordingly.

• Variety of Rhythm Improvisation has its own special rhythm, especially when it is boring as hell. Recognize and rehearse different rhythms for you and your ensemble. If a scene has a slow pace in a show, come in faster, and vice-versa.

All of these things provide for a more entertaining improvisa-tional experience for your audience. The added extra bonus is what it will do for you. By letting the variety serve the show, you will be doing things that you normally wouldn't do and that stretch your range as an improviser.

Starting Scenes

If you are dying to preconceive something in an improv scene, pre­conceive the following. (With each example, know that, as always. you'll want to have a strong choice or a how behind it). Practice starting scenes one of the following ways.

You

Begin a scene with the word you. "You got the map? Good!" or "You feelin' all right?" You instantly puts you in the same space as your partner. Using you, not only affirms your partner with your strong choice, but also immediately makes your partner a part of it. This tool is also helpful if your improvisation seems a little disconnected lately.

And

Start a scene using the word and. The reason is probably obvious: "... and now let's crack that safe," or "and that's why I wanted to meet you here." Yes, and starts you in the middle of the scene. It cuts through boring and unnecessary exposition. After a while, you'll want your scene to always have the cadence of and, but eliminate actually saying the word all the time. In my examples, it would be, "Now let's crack that safe," and "That's why I wanted to meet you here." All of this gets you into the scene more quickly.

Something You Believe In

Have the first line of your scene be something that you actually believe in or believe to be true. For me, it might be, "I don't trust the government," or "The government is corrupt," or "The government often lies to us." For you, it might be something different. It is, how­ever, something you actually personally believe in, whether it is your stand on free speech, or capital punishment, or your favorite hair­style, or your opinion of the Cincinnati Reds. Improvisation invites us to say anything we want at all, and to bring our own voice to the stage. It invites us to do and say anything. Anything. What do we come up with? "Great party, huh?" or "What's up?"

The Opposite of What You Believe In

Begin a scene by saying the opposite of something you believe in. I might say, "The government is always honest," or "Astrology is an amazing science." This might even be better than saying something you do believe in, because representing the opposite point of view often has more impact. It is also usually funnier; ninety percent of the time, the audience is aware that you don't really believe what you are saying.

Non Sequiturs

I love Dada and non sequiturs. Perhaps a bit too much. Try starting a scene with one, and then try like hell to catch up with your initia­tion. "Watch that toothbrush Samsonite, the penguins grow weary over car." This usually requires a willing partner to respond to such an initiation, and I wouldn't suggest doing this in front of audiences often. It's a great way to stretch your brain and free up the words, though. It also allows great practice in fielding difficult initiations and makes it a bit easier in the future when all kinds of initiations come your way.

Scenes Without Laughs

Some of the best scenes I've ever seen are those that are about not getting laughs. When I spewed at the beginning of the chapter, "Improvisation, always different, always the same," doing scenes where you get no laughs is a way to defy this bitter slogan. Having laughs in mind when you go on stage produces a certain mindset: very product-oriented. It has you work in a particular, limited set of actions and words. The product is the laugh, or the need to create that laugh. This product-thinking steers improvisers into certain pat­terns of behavior, and the moves associated with that behavior seem to fit into a certain kind of finite set.

Alleviating the burden of getting a laugh opens up a whole new universe. Suddenly, a moment that would have been joked out is played through. All moments in the scene appear more honest, and points of view and characters are upheld effortlessly.

If the improvisers launch these scenes with high-stakes initia­tions, all the better. It's a joy to see the relationship of, say, two brothers where the first line of the scene is, "Sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral." If both improvisers are in agreement that they are not going to sell out the scene for laughs, that is, play it seriously without joking it out or bailing, improvisation reaches a greater depth.

An average improv scene lasts three to four minutes. A scene without laughs can last seven, never sway from what it's about, and tug and pull in every way imaginable to play itself out. I have seen and performed in scenes like this for over an hour. Practicing such scenes lets you know that you're capable of playing a character and a point of view for far longer than you might have thought. Some improvisers tell me that they run out of things to say or do in a scene. Improvise a scene for fifteen minutes without laughs, and you will learn that it's not that you can't find things to say and do in an improv scene, it's that you can't find things to say and do if getting laughs all the time is important to you. It takes trust and integrity to play this type of scene, and anytime something jokey appears, it sticks out like a sore thumb, a clunker. I talked about acting earlier; well, this is where improvisation meets acting.

Now for the punchline: These scenes are some of the funniest I've ever experienced. Yes, the laughs may or may not come as often as they do in other scenes, but the laughs produced are of greater quality. Quality? Yes, quality—a word not used very often in improv­isation. Quality of funny. Since the improvisers are not improvising with the mindset of being funny, the funny has greater depth and quality. If the improvisers are playing the scene for real and keeping the stakes and what the scene is about intact, the laughs are more organic to character and relationship. They are not cheap laughs, but more intelligent, richer laughs: better laughs.

This kind of improvisation, though, can't be achieved without agreement among the players. When one improviser wants to play this way, but the partner is in a need-to-get-a-laugh mode, the partner is going to pull the rug out from under the scene every time. The improvisers need to agree beforehand that this is the way they'll improvise today, whether in workshop or performance. You just can't pull out a high-stakes initiation in your Bucket O' Yuks improv team and expect everyone to hold it up. Improvisation does most often crave funny, but it sure could use a dose of the honesty and integrity found in improvising scenes without laughs.