I recently finished taking an 8-week (+ 1 showcase) improv 101 class.
The more I think about it, the less I believe there was one reason I did it.
Ever since middle school drama class (which was essentially improv), I’ve had it in my mind that it would be fun to try.
But the final push was my distinguished sister taking an improv class that “changed her life”.
She and another friend told me they thought I’d be good at it.
(And I can’t resist a chance to be good at something).
Thus it became one of my resolutions for 2023.
I chose ComedySportz because it was the closest improv theater to me.
I didn’t give a second thought to the name, but if pressed, I would have guessed it was just goofy and meaningless, but it really is apt.
In accordance with the structure of their professional shows, the classes are taught various improv “games”.
The games can be as structured as standing in a line and taking turns saying one word to answer a question or replaying a scene in a suggested genre.
My preference would be to stick to basic scenes, more similar to improv I’ve watched (Upright Citizens Brigade and Middleditch and Schwartz).
I’m sure it’s the same fundamental skill, but something about the games feels less pure or more dilute.
The structure of the games are designed for guaranteed laughs.
For instance, one game has players repeat a 90-second scene in shorter time spans until it devolves into chaos.
Not ignoring the skill it takes to run around frantically, it’s very safe.
Even if your initial scene flops, it becomes funnier when fast forwarded.
In another, players in a scene occasionally read prewritten lines suggested from the audience and justify them to work within the scene.
The audience lines keep the scene from going stale.
If you’re not sure what to say, just pick up a line and breathe some life into it.
On the other hand, they make it hard to get to and stay with any sort of “meaningful action” (yes I just finished A Swim in a Pond in the Rain).
The games are like training wheels.
It’s hard to fall, but it’s also hard to pop a wheelie.
Each game exercises a different skill, physicality or character or object-work, but they often feel just like exercises for some “real thing” that you never get to.
Other than that, I was excited to be taking a class again for the first time in a while.
I’m never as skilled as I want to be, but there’s something so satisfying about hearing instruction, trying follow it, getting feedback, and iterating.
My only complaint is that, with the number of people in the class, the different games to learn, and the notes between games, there wasn’t much time to improvise during each 2 hour class.
But it’s forgivable given that the class has an identity problem.
When I went to register, the promotional video on the classes page was all testimonials from adults who had been very anxious until they just went for it and signed up.
This was really surprising to me and my theater background.
I’m used to the idea that everyone performing has some sort of complex and believes spotlights were invented for their personal use.
I was surprised again on the first night when we went around in a circle and everyone said why they were taking improv, and around half the people mentioned some sort of anxiety.
Most of the rest of the people said they thought it would be fun, or their friends had recommended it, or their friends were in the class with them.
But then a few weeks in, I went to a show with a friend and mentioned that a lot of people did improv to help with social anxiety and was surprised when he was surprised.
Given that everyone’s operating at various levels of intensity, they do a good job of striking some kind of balance.
(I meant to get this out before the level 2 class started, but failing that, I now have the perspective that it in fact is more intense than the level 1 class).
I’m so enthused about the whole experience that I’m tempted to say everyone should do it, but of course that says more about me than about improv.
(And maybe more people would actually want to do it if I said something specific about who should and they see that it includes them).
To me, it was fun, like a game.
(Actually, it felt most similar to playing House as a kid although in our house everyone was either an orphan with superpowers or a truancy officer, so your mileage may vary).
If you’re someone who likes fun, and this sort of thing sounds fun to you, you should try it.
But what about that reputation for helping with social anxiety?
Of course I have no experience with that, so I can only speculate.
And ask my friends.
At the end of the class, everyone I asked said they felt the class did help.
I’m a little skeptical.
I’ve known since my college Track days that with the right instruction, I can step out of myself and cheer loudly and obnoxiously and then immediately return to exactly who I am.
Playing in musicals was a similar experience.
When you step on stage, the least uncomfortable thing you can do is stop being quiet and bashful and play the part.
But offstage, no one’s handing you lines, and you’re back to yourself.
I’ve heard something similar from someone who did Toastmasters.
They got comfortable presenting to their small club, but when they had to give a speech somewhere else, they were just as nervous as before.
If improv does help, it’s because it’s a kind of exposure therapy.
You repeatedly put yourself in the situation you’re most afraid will happen: someone asks you a question, you don’t understand the situation, you’re not fully in control, you’re on a stage, everyone’s looking.
And then you say something and everyone moves on.
If there’s one lesson Improv 101 teaches, it’s that it’s better to say anything than nothing.
But as far as exposure therapy goes, it’s sort of cheating.
It’s as if you introduced an arachnophobe only the the kindest, friendliest spiders who wanted to play with them and not bite them.
You learn that people are receptive to whatever stupid thing you say (not so in e.g. your workplace).
It develops a false confidence.
But then again, is there a meaningful distinction among confidences however wrongly gained?
And then again again, don’t most people in our lives wish us well and believing otherwise is maladaptive?
(The biggest departure improv makes from reality is that oftentimes in reality, there is a true answer, and you can’t justify any response by playing it confidently enough).
But enough about other people.
What’s the biggest benefit I got from the class?
I’ve long had a self-perception that, as a writer, I’m sort of incapable of developing conflict or tension which is a big problem for a writer.
Through the class, I realized that I have a fine nose for conflict, but that when writing, I spend all my time trying to think of some grand, ideal conflict that is both personal and universal, which hasn’t been written before.
Obviously not just an impossible task, but a case of misplaced focus.
In class we learned about “CROW”.
Towards the beginning of any scene, you should establish Characters, Relationships, Objectives, and Where (you are).
If you have two characters with objectives, tension ensues.
It’s totally backward to start with some Platonic tension and try to construct characters who will be forced to play it out.
Besides, even if you think of your grand conflict, like juggling a flaming chainsaw, that’s not enough to get your reader from page to page.
You need constant tension and resolution.
And not all of those can be chainsaws.
Most will be regular balls, hanging in the air, wondering with what flourish they’ll be caught (another tip of the hat to George Saunders).
Even if this sounds like a stupid breakthrough to you, my point is that improv is rich enough that, if you do it, you’ll have your own stupid realizations based on whatever goes on in your head.
If in fact you just want to get into improv, I’m not sure what you’re doing reading me waffling on about whether or not it’s worth it.
You can probably tell you might have to be patient with people who are less serious about it than you are (although I didn’t notice any correlation between motivation and aptitude).
If you know you want improv, just do it.
I will temper your expectations.
I don’t think I really learned any skills.
That is, if I were to compare it to drawing, it’s more like someone handed me a pen for the first time in my life, and I learned to represent real objects in the world with ink.
Sure my lines got straighter and more confident over the course of the class, but not in a way that amounted to “craft”.
Fingers crossed there’s more of that in level 2.
Signs point to yes.
Finally just a short word about how improv is for making friends.
I forgot to mention it, but at least a couple people signed up primarily in order to get out of their apartments and be more social.
Compared to other activities (chess, volleyball, and pickleball), it seems better for making friends.
Even though you spend the whole time talking to each other, you’re not exchanging biographical data.
You’re learning what everyone thinks is a normal way for their character which they made up to respond to some usually strange situation.
Which is the main way you learn whether or not you get along with someone I’m pretty sure.
Then you can go out afterwards and hear what they have to say about themselves.
(Improv’s the only activity I’ve done where everyone started by saying they were anxious, and the teacher told us to become friends and go out together after class).