UCB has been the center of my education (14 Classes) for the last 2 years and I still count myself as lucky to be part of such a warm and open community.  No school is going to give you the golden key to improvisation and make every student into the next Bill Murray, but UCB is a place where if you want to make something of yourself, you can. It’s been frustrating, sometimes humiliating, and occasionally overwhelming, but it’s also been the most educational endeavor I have ever undertaken.

And so I thought I would write down, for posterity, the lessons that are currently bouncing through my mind after 2 years of clases. Hopefully next year I will look back and think “Oh, that’s what I was thinking last year?! Wow, that seems like second nature now”

State-of-My-Union

• I’m not sure if I’m a slow exception, but almost 2 yeas to the day of starting classes, and taking them consistently, I finally understand game. That’s a huge thing in my improvisational career.
• I’ve also started to feel like my work outside of classes in practice and performance is really starting to shine. I am consistently asked after shows where I trained and who I’ve trained with, which I take as a compliment.
• My 4 person improv group is flourishing. We’ve played enough shows that I feel super relaxed on stage and truly feel that no one’s skills outshine any others. We need to write more sketch.
• My performance in class still suffers from being too polite and shy to people I don’t know well. I sometimes feel like sociopaths would have a much easier time performing than I do, but feel lucky I’m not a sociopath.
• The indie improv community is the healthiest I have ever seen it. New groups are starting to once again surface, which is reassuring that it wasn’t just my generation that had a group boom. I feel very lucky to be part of the indie improv community.
• Longform Musical Improvisation is one of the best trainings for all of your improv skills and from reading Funniest One In The Room, Del knew it too. It has taught me more about the themes in life than any other class. Eliza Skinner elevates the craft to an art form. (She’s teaching two DCM workshops - take them! Sunday 2-5pm & Wednesday 6-9pm)

Current circulating ideas

• Be truthful always — never go for the joke. Truth in Comedy is good, but Comedy in Truth is better.
• Game is not about the unusual things, but rather your relationships to them. (relationship - noun - the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected). If this is true (about my character/behavior/relationship/environment/etc.), what else (about my behavior) is true?
• Game is celebrating/exploring/wallowing in situations/problems/fun, rather than trying to invent/solve/move past them.
• Never take any lesson from any instructor at face value — you must own it before it can be true for you. Discover why the rules are true.
• Support everything, in improv, unconditionally always. Everything you or your partner say is brilliant - listen to that subconscious brilliance and figure out what it means.
• “Yes And = Yes Why” -Anthony King
• Always make your partner look better. You are always on stage to protect your partner, always take the bullet.
• Game is usually in the first 3 lines of dialog, so pay special attention up top to everything you and your partners say.
• Listen to yourself as much as you listen to your partner — you may not be aware of the games you are setting up.
• Trust your opinions — your opinions make your improv different from everyone elses.
• And! - Anding is how you make your mark on a scene.
• “Perform each scene like it will be your last.” -Amey Goerlich
• Never be polite — take, give, demand, and never apologize.
• Tell your scene partner what you are feeling, don’t assume they are on the same page.
• Take your time — perform in the same tempo as you live your life, anything else will feel foreign.
• Make this be the day something happens — something happening doesn’t always mean something external.
• Allow your characters to have wants for themselves — this can flesh out a character better than anything.
• Always warm-up before a class or performance - remember exercises warm up different parts of your brain and body. Try to do a left brain exercise (7 things, Hot Spot), right brain exercise (3 characteristics, character wheel, made-up hot spot) and an energy exercise (Crazy 8’s, knife throw, moving in space)
• Group mind, group mind, group mind.
• You are brave for trying this — most people go through their lives never living to their potential, feel comforted that even if you fail you are still one of the few who are trying.

My Musical Improv class at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade, taught by the incredibly talented Eliza Skinner, ended the other week. It was undoubtedly the most fun I’ve had in an improv class to date. Learning to sing improvised songs was a liberating experience, not only because singing is so much fun, but because it’s a class that you truly feel on the same level as everyone else.

I haven’t felt this free since 101

The mechanics of musical improv are undoubtedly different than that of scenic improv, but at their core it’s the same stuff. You agree, support, and play games in the same way, however because you are operating within a song, there is an added level of structure that overrides it all. Where a two person scene was once king, you now had to do all by yourself in song. It sounds far more difficult than it acctually is.

The song structure is Musical improv is fairly simple. You have two basic structures a Tagline song or a Verse Chorus Song. What I found so interesting is that previously, in 2 person scenes, I would be a very “one note” player. Rarely did I “if this is true, what else is true.” But in a song, the verse structure cannot move forward if you aren’t actively heightening your subject choices. You also are doing this, on the most part, on your own.

Additionally in a Verse Chorus Structure you need to pick a Chorus at the start to be the engine which will power your song. This Chorus has to be simple, memorable, and universal, but it also has to in some way represent what you are about to sing. So, where I once found myself trying to create and find games in scenes, now I knew the entire game in the beginning.

Wax On, Wax Off teaching

Interestingly, at the end of the class all my scenic improv skills, which I was using in practice and performance, had improved. The stuff that seemed unrelated were in fact improving by the lessons I was learning in musical improv. I was making bold choices up top. I was defining my characters wants and making those wants important. I was supporting everything strongly. I was listening to myself up top to find game. I was keeping it simple. I was having fun.

This made me think, maybe this idea of classes, much like the raw harold class focussed on support, that look at a particular facet of improv are actually just as important as Harold workshops. These classes show us something universal about the skills of improv. They strengthen in the way that lifting weights strengthen, by targeting distinct improv muscles that you can use in your everyday work. Sure you can still jump into the ring and train by throwing punches, but sometimes jumping rope can be just as useful.

Lessons Learned from Musical Improv:

• Make strong choices up top
• Be specific in what you’re talking about
• Have strong and important wants for your characters
• Game is like a song - Keep your view consistent, Expand your views (if this is true what else is true), explore patterns, get out before it gets repetitive
• Set up your environment
• Use the stage, remember stage picture, and keep action on stage active
• Keep your songs, wants, and initiations simple and memorable - Think about the universality of your themes
• Backline should never pull focus from stage
• Support everything unconditionally - Enough support can make all the difference
• Look like you know what’s going on
• Remember that tragedy can be just as powerful as comedy
• Follow the fun - Play

So, I told you guys it was a worthwhile show, but now I’m going to lay it down. I have seen a lot of improv in my time at UCB and the Raw Harold continues to be the best thing I have seen in a long time. Last week’s show was exceptional and the improvisers, student improvisers mind you, surpassed their individual talents to create a truly inspirational show.

Yeah, Inspirational.

I walked away from last weeks performance saying “I want to improvise like that.” This is the same feeling I get when I watch 4 Square or Gravid Water. And not to say that I think Chris Gethard is trying to make any particular statement about what improv can be, but the fact of the matter is anyone could perform to the caliber of these performers if they risked and supported everything (like these performers do).

My last write-up I tried to break down the form of the raw Harold. I tried to equate the scenes I saw on stage to forms I had learned, tried to make jumps in logic, tried to find patterns. However, if there is a form, I can’t figure it out. I tried to keep track of scenes and for the most part this last performance did not follow any of the previous performance’s rules. Everything blended together; group games, scenes, meta, audience participation. I quickly forgot to write down the hierarchy of scenes, because I simply couldn’t keep track of them.

It’s like watching a con artist using slight of hand.

Now, while I’m saying there may be no discernible pattern, I do think there is a rhythm to the scenes. This rhythm I feel is not part of the form, if there is a form, but rather an indicator of the performers’ improv training. The scenes move in a quick succession, each performer taking focus and releasing it once it has been taken. Again it’s a bit of a magic trick the way the scenes work, each scene moving toward what each performer finds interesting and followed by the rest of the group unconditionally.

I could write further about the scenes last week; about Greg’s incredible ability to ground scenes, about Katie getting lovingly picked on by Jacob, about audience members replaced by improvisers, about one of the funniest references to Who’s Line is it Anyways’ Party Quirks, or my sister Amy getting pulled into the audience to reveal to the Raw Harold audience some incredibly personal information.

But in the end I think I’ll leave it as I began it — the Raw Harold continues to be the best thing I have seen in a long time. If you miss this show, you will be less of an improviser because of it. Take nap and see the show. Tonight at 11pm UCB Theatre.

I kind of feel, in my own work, that when I start to focus on one part of my performance — another part falls apart. This seems most true when I focus on game. When I focus on game I find most of my scenes get less and less of it. This is in part because game doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Game can only truly show itself when performers on stage are making strong choices about their viewpoints, relationship, and situation.

One simple tool in getting into this game producing state is to pick an emotion for your character toward your partner. This isn’t to say every scene has to be super happy, super sad, or super angry. It just means pick an emotional vantage point for your character. It doesn’t have to be an extreme emotional vantage point, it doesn’t have to be big, it just has to be an emotion toward your partner. This very quickly creates a sub-context to the scene, creates a relationship between the characters, and adds depth to scene — which helps scenes that suffer from talking heads.

Emotion is also one of those choices which you can sustain through a scene without much thought. I find that the more heady scenes become, the harder it is for me to follow and keep on anding. Emotion, on the other hand, is fairly easy for me to keep going because I can rely on my own capacity for emotion rather than my capacity for hilarious lines.

Which are few and far between.

Ben Rogers of 1985 did a scene with Sue Galloway about Valentines day and basically made the whole thing a dick joke. However, Ben committed so heavily to the performance that it was incredibly funny and not at all awkward to watch. Usually I am put off by juvenile humor, but hats off to Ben for pulling it off so effortlessly.

Another 1985 player of note is Gavin Speiller. From the early on Gavin has been one of my favorite players at UCB. He’s smart, funny, and can pull off a cute character at the drop of a hat, but it’s only in the last year I have noticed his ability to really selflessly support everything on stage. Last night he came into scenes repeatedly and added the perfect game move to the mix; the abusive hunter and his dog, the treasure thief, “there is only one burger left” brother. Repeatedly Gavin reminds me how good you can be at unabashed support.

Lastly, fwänd’s Gil Ozeri tried some pretty experimental transitions last night. Instead of a sweep edit, Gil said while editing the scene “we see this scene is part of a huge quilt” (to which Gabrus said one of the funniest lines of the night about lupus). While the edits didn’t quite congeal and were dropped on an edit or two, I really appreciated Gil’s attempt to blow out the suggestion of pincushion into something more. For a student grappling with broader ideas in performances, Gil’s example to experiment even at the possibility of failure is inspiring.

Thank you to all the Harold teams, you guys are all inspirations… alright, alright, maybe that was a bit much.

I’m in week two of Michael Delaney’s eight week Improv 504 Acting for Improvisers class at UCBNY.

I was terrified of Michael when I first arrived in class, because of his reputation as a no punch pulling instructor. I had imagined him to swagger into class, shout at every scene that we were doing it all wrong, and tell us that we were no good. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Delaney is an amazing instructor. His knowledge and thoughts on improv are on a level I have not experienced before. Just about every word out of his mouth makes me furriously write down something in my notebook. He does give candid notes, but I love a note if it’s on point — and Delaney is always on point.

I can really feel that skillset stretching

One topic he is really stressing on in this class, is to take that initiation and not get caught up in it, instead of continuing on exploring the scene. Often I, as an improviser, will get nervous that I wont find that unusual thing and make the ordinary, unusual. This really pulls focus from what’s ultimately the most important part of the scene, the relationships of the characters on stage. He used a cake analogy which has continued to bounce around my head all week. I can’t shake it.

There is power in an archetypal cake. You can make a cake as crazy [unusual] as you want, but sometimes a cake is just a simple cake and the wedding is what we explore.

Michael Delaney

Punctuating this mass of performances were the UCB 4 themselves, who got on stage frequently to talk to the audience and answer questions. That for me, was one of my biggest highlights of the marathon. I must have heard Ian Roberts talking over 3 hours about life, love, and improvisation and the majority was truly brilliant. When the 4 got on stage together they really did seem to transform the space. While they really were performing bits the entire time, the energy was contagious.

From all this watching, I began to compile in my notebook a list of lessons I was taking away from each performance I saw. It was interesting to be actively thinking about what I was watching rather than just deciding if I liked what was happening on stage or not. It reminded me of a quote Rob Riggle dropped earlier that week:

You were a reader before you were a writer.

J.D. Salinger

Meaning that you have to experience as a viewer what you love, to find out what it is you enjoy, before you can do it. Which strangely was echoed by Matt Walsh later that week:

Own everything you are learning.

He was speaking about not only just taking loads of classes without question, but to develop your own philosophies. Improv is not a static medium, it is up to each improviser to take the lessons they are learning and to make them their own.

Below are the notes and lessons I wrote in my marathon haze. These are just things I thought about and are no way some sort of guide for improvisers. I urge you all to read them, agree or disagree, and come up with your own ideas about what you believe.

2007 Del Close Marathon Notes

Do what interests you, not what you think people want

Matt Walsh responding to Kate Spencer’s question about staring your own community or theater.

You are an improviser. If you can’t parody and be well read, you have no business being in this room.

Ian Roberts quoting Del Close

2007 Del Close Marathon 20 Performance Lessons

1. Make this the day something happens - If this were a TV show, why would we be tuning in today? This shouldn’t be another humdrum day in another humdrum life.
2. Start in the middle - drop the exposition, get to the meat as quickly as possible.
3. Don’t draw attention to yourself on the back line - Looking confused, judging, scared, or even too laughy can betray the work being performed on stage. You must, at least, look like you know what is going on on stage at all times.
4. Enter the stage calmly - Jumping around and rolling on the floor can give the audience the wrong impression that you are begging for laughs. Enter, greet the audience, and stand in backline.
5. You got space, use it - It’s a big black box, remember to step away from the wall. There’s a line 1/3 the way from the back called the “line of hesitation” - cross it
6. Knock, Knock. Who’s there? 2 doors and a curtain - Why invent a door, when you have 2 doors on stage? Get used to thinking about using them, even in classes where there are no physical doors.
7. Remember stage picture - Sure you can put a car (4 chairs) straight down the center of the stage, but what about going horizontally? It’s 100 times more interesting for an audience, especially when they have seen 42 car scenes before you that go centered.
8. Game is the most important part of an improv scene - forget big characters, wacky situations, or jokes. Be honest, find the game, and play it.
9. No Jokes - When you tell a quick joke you cheapen everything you’ve built thus far and everything you will be creating from then on.
10. Explore, stop inventing - what’s the difference with exploration and invention? Exploration is when you are on game, invention is when you are off it. If you are adding information to heighten the game that’s perfect. If you are adding information because you don’t have enough material, listen harder up top. The game of the scene was probably in your first 3 lines.
11. Ground your scenes - Going to crazy town right off the bat removes the stakes of a scene, which in turn gives us nothing to contrast our comedy against. “Blue doesn’t show up well on blue.” Start grounded and trust in the game.
12. Belong on that stage - Own the fucking stage whenever you step onto it. -Mick Napier
13. Support to play the game, not to showboat - You enter a scene from the back line to heighten the game, or to support the scene taking place - not to steal the focus.
14. Silence is golden - Don’t be afraid of scenes with little or no talking. (ie - Delta Force 2’s silent Jet Ski scene) Silence is a natural stake raiser.
15. Who are you? Where are you? And Why am I watching you? - yup, yup, and yup.
16. Earn the Right to go “Meta” - Sure it’s fun to jump out of a scene, especially in front of people who appreciate it, to commentate on improvisation, but if you constantly break scene to draw attention to the mechanics of the scene, you cheapen everything and it becomes a parlor trick.
17. All suggestions are transformative - Even “potato”. Respect your audience and the time they took to give you something to transform into art.
18. Stay away from gimmicks, especially one’s that can hurt people - This is going to sound pretty rude, but I think it needs saying as it was the one performance during the marathon that really bothered me. We are celebrating one of the most important people in improvisation, who believed improv could be more than just fodder for other performing art forms. I’m pretty sure he’d be rolling in his grave if he knew you were amateurishly riding a unicycle inches away from injuring audience members and yourselves. Don’t get rid of the name, just loose the unicycles and grow unibrows.
19. Wait for the initiation - Coming into a scene with too much energy or information can sabotage your scene partner’s initiation. If you are entering onto a stage with a performer who has made an initiating move, keep your body neutral until you have heard their line, or you sense that they require some additional information from you. Coming into a scene with too many specifics can often step on the toes of your partner and throw a scene off completely. You have to allow your partner’s brick to be placed, before you know where to add your own.
20. Have fun - There’s nothing to worry about. Everyone in the audience wants you to succeed, take your time and enjoy the ride.

That’s it. Hope you enjoyed my little notebook of thoughts. Thanks again for all of the staff that made this year’s DCM so seamless. See you all next year.

Recently I had the oddest sensation about my improv - it just wasn’t working. Not working in the broader sense, that scenes were consistently turning problematic. I would go into scenes and for one reason or another they would fizzle out into a not so funny mess. My forward motion stalled and my scene partner and I would stare blankly at each other looking for another direction in the scene we might have missed. What had happened to my improv skills? Where did they go? And more importantly, could I get them back?

Truth be told, I have heard this from a lot of fellow students and I believe that everyone who improvises will feel this from time to time. The ol’ improv slump. What causes it? I do not know, perhaps it’s focusing on the other parts of improv like raising stakes, developing characters, or strengthening game. Perhaps it’s just the process of growing as an improviser. The good news is, that fixing it wasn’t really that difficult.

Going Back to the Basics

With all these “advanced” improv classes I’ve been taking, it seems inconceivable that the most important lessons I learned were in that first improv class I took back when I had more hair. Basic agreement or “yes and” is the cornerstone to all improv and while I had been agreeing in principal, I was also adding conflict into scenes in the same breath. I would often start my scenes in the beginnings of an argument.

“I can’t believe you lost the dog.”
“You know I hate pot roast Susan.”
“Wow, I can’t wait for this movie to be over.”

While none of these statements are in in of themselves “bad improvising” they do start you off on negative ground instead of positive. They also put your partner in a defensive position by default.

“Yes and” is not just a statement, it is a philosophy. To “yes and” is to “open doors instead of closing them” as Christina Gausas recently reminded me. It is the process of agreeing to the situation and to move it forward. The “Yes” is to agree to the situation; the “And” is taking one more step forward, through the door, in a scene.

How You And, Is What Defines You As An Improviser.

It is the simplest, most concise statement on the process of improvisation I have ever heard. Unfortunately it was not me who said it, but rather Christina Gausas. It was in fact in Christina’s Group Game and Openings Special class, at UCB NY, that broke my slump. Yessing a situation, is the most important skill in improv, but it’s the “And” that really defines you. It’s the “And” that makes the scene and puts your mark on it.

What broke my slump was being reminded about the joy of not thinking too much and just entering a scene, blissfully agreeing to all the realities put in front of me and anding them. Really anding them with juicy, meaty, specific detail. It’s a pretty simple lesson that perhaps I should of remembered, but just in case you’ve forgotten, “Yes” it and then “And” it.

Before I started my Billy Merritt 401 5 weeks back, I had dropped out of all my practice groups. I had sworn off all improv contact, aside from Harold Night at UCB, because I was just completely burned out. I was improvising 5 nights a week and felt utterly devoid of interesting ideas in scenes. Then 401 started, I joined a few groups, and I signed up for a few more classes. Now I am up to my eyes in improv and every evening at 6, I pack up from regular paying work, and head to my second job - improv.

Monday night my 401 class performed at New Team Harold and we surprisingly did better than we or Billy expected. He made us all state something before the show for the class to remember about improv and something we wanted to work on during the show. I had stated that back-line support and editing were critical for scenes and that I wanted to work on not changing my point of view in a scene to match my partner. Strangely, I seemed to have focussed on back-line support much more than not changing my point of view. I tried to support every scene I could, by raising stakes, and hitting implied game. Of course there were a few missed opportunities that really could have made the show better, a few awkward pauses, a few mistakes that weren’t woven into the fabric of scenes as well as they could, but all in all I think we outdid ourselves. Billy even remarked in notes after our performance “I’m really surprised by that show. Not as an insult, but I would not have expected that show from your classwork. You guys have your work cut out for yourselves for your next show.”

After New Team Harrold we saw Chicago originated 4 Square perform at the UCB and were humbled by their incredible performance. Absolute and total control over scenes. Not once did I feel that they didn’t know where they were going. It was an amazing show. All the players agreed to every initiation without question or hesitation. Scenes went to the far side of reality, but never at the cost of believability. Each successive move brought the audience along with perfect justification culminating in my favorite move of the evening when a picked on golfing John Lutz proclaimed,

“Well at least I have a video game about me.”
“Yeah, but that game sucks.”

To which 4 Square in unison started playing the video game which basically consisted of John Lutz walking across stage in a stiff walk and opening doors. It was a brilliantly simple move. The fact that they all were so in tune with each other really hit home that improv can be far more when a group trusts itself.

All of this underlines my new improv resolution, to perform more. While all this time in classes and practice is useful, after being on stage and then seeing 4 Square on stage, I realize that the only way to fully improve my skills is to do this stuff for real, without a net. I need to feel the rush of adrenaline with an audience watching me. I have been warming up for too long and every class show I have underlines for myself that I am capable of doing more.

Playing

• Trust in what’s already been established. It’s all there in the first 3 lines.
• Keep it simple and trust in the details.
• Explore, don’t invent.
• Your characters must be real and truthful. Caricatures and cartoonish characters do not allow an audience to relate, therefore, empathize with you, removing the stakes for a scene.
• It is not steamrolling to be specific in a scene and lay out your ideas. Steamrolling is not allowing your partner to contribute by adding information for them.
• If you start straight and try to go funny, but fail - It’s much easier to go back to straight, than if you had started with funny, fail and try to go to straight. -Chris Gethard
• Get to the action - Make this be the day something happens.
• Your purpose on stage is to support your partner. Always put the weight on your shoulders to protect them from looking bad or taking responsibility. -Chris Gethard
• Make a scene present by acknowledging your scene partner with “I, you, we” at the start.
• React honestly, it’ll make your life easier. -Chris Gethard
• Take your time to respond. Allow what has been said to effect you.
• Don’t feel you always have to talk. Silence is a great stake raiser.
• Have Fun, Have Fun, Have Fun. Stop thinking and play instead.
• You got yourself into this mess and you are the only one who can get yourself out of it Gethard to a scene partner and I after a particularly difficult scene where we felt trapped.
• You cannot have a great show without taking risks. The bigger the risks taken, the bigger the possibility for success. Failure because of taking risks are far more impressive than failure because of the fear of taking risks.
• Play for the stage, not the audience. (Play for yourself, not to satisfy others.)

Group Games

• If we talk 50% of the time in a two person scene, In a 6-8 person group game we should plan to talk 20-13% of the time.
• In a group game agree with the scene’s reality and, most importantly, support you fellow players.
• Group games that focus on the one odd man out, usually become a witch burning.
• Everybody hates hotspot. The purpose is not to love singing goofy songs, but to support your fellow players even if it puts you in the firing lines. -Anthony Atamanuik

The Suggestion

• Concept from Matt Walsh - Put a question mark after the suggestion. You should try to answer that question, for yourself, by the end of your harold.
• Commit completely to your opening. This is when the audience decides if they are with you, or against you. If they feel you don’t believe it, they wont believe it.

Do you have any nuggets you’d like to drop?

I’m more than half way through level 301 at UCB NY and it’s been interesting. My instructor Chris Gethard may be one of the most brilliant thinkers I have ever had the pleasure of working with. He is insightful, straightforward, and extremely astute in his observations about improvisers and their work. I have been humbled, on several occasions, by his on point notes which have really catapulted my understanding of Improv as an art-form rather than just a means for a cheap laugh.

I have, however, been thinking a lot about improv recently and not enjoying my progress in class or practice group. This has been largly to my thinking too much about what I’m doing wrong and holding onto my mistakes rather than noting them and letting them go. I have been putting undue stress on myself to perform.

Don’t suck, don’t suck. Please don’t suck.

So, before my class on Thursday, I decided that I don’t pay $325 a level to beat myself up. I don’t spend 3 hours after an exhausting day of work to feel worse about myself than I did before. I certainly don’t want to give up. I love improv - I should let my self criticisms go and have fun. This is improv! Why am I taking it so seriously? Why aren’t I having the fun I was having in 101?

This isn’t rocket surgery.

The most basic component of improv is play. When children play there is no right or wrong, mistakes are part of the process and are adapted on as they happen. Children understand that there is nothing to loose so they have no problems making leaps of faith when playing. Yet when I’m playing in improv I’m so afraid of not making mistakes, that I never make the moves I want to, because I’m afraid of screwing up the scene. Amazingly, or not so amazingly, once I decided to have fun - I felt free in class. I jumped into scenes, played game, raised stakes, supported scenes, and had a lot of fun unencumbered by my judgements. Sure I made mistakes, but I also learned from those mistakes ¹. Even when Chris gave me notes, I took them to heart, feeling encouraged that I could do better next time rather than discouraged that I haddn’t done better at the time.

At the end of the day, we all do this because we love it, we all love it because it’s fun, it’s fun because it’s not supposed to be taken too seriously.

It’s only Improv.

¹ As a supporting move to a scene I was in about confronting fears, Dan, a fellow student, came out as a bull for my scene partner and I to bullfight. He passed by once and exited stage left. Wanting more scenes with the bull, I broke the scene’s reality to comment on how weird it was that the bull just ran off after one pass. In retrospect I should have gave Dan a cue by saying something to the effect of Here comes that bull again. This would have given Dan the heads up I wanted him to come back in and moved the scene forward at the same time.

For all the credit I give Mick Napier and his excellent book Improvise, learning the rules of improv as taught by Del Close in Truth In Comedy is a necessity. Mick teaches a far more organic form of Improv that, while being a great addition to Del’s teachings pushing forward an improviser stuck in a rut, it’s major failing is if you aren’t following the ground rules in improv chances are your scenes will suffer.

Recently this point was dramatically driven home in a practice group I led, where our coach was unfortunately detained at work. No one was really prepared to lead the practice group, and it showed. We scrambled to fill our two hour practice session with warm up games and scenework. However, because we are so used to the side-coaching of our coach scenes spiraled quickly out of control. The more scenes we did, the more unruly they became. We attempted a few 2nd beat scenes punctuated by free-for-all group games. Scenes went on way too long, without going anywhere and were ultimately were mercy edited.

It was a mess.

I noticed during the practice, that my mind was systematically categorizing each move and dissecting the problems inherent in each one. It was like I was being side coached by my own mind (who’s voice sounded remarkably similar to my current improv instructor Chris Gethard). What became painfully apparent is that the problems in the scenes were in direct relation to improvisers not following the basic ground rules of improv.

• Agreement - Yes And
• No Questions
• Being present (it’s about you and the other improviser)
• Show don’t tell
• Define who you are
• Define where you are
• Group games should have a clear game
• It’s not about the thing, it’s about you
• Explore, don’t invent
• Support your teammates - Don’t pimp
• Have an opinion in the scene
• Wear your characters like a thin veil (be yourself, be real)
• Etc, Etc.

Although the practice group kind of sucked, it is the purpose of practice to work through those issues and get them out so you’re not sucking on stage. It is each improvisers duty to reflect on scenes and see what went well and what didn’t. Only through observation and “checking in”, as Mick Napier puts it, can we begin to refine our skills as improvisers.

And ultimately not suck… Ultimately.

Although I am a few weeks late, I thought I would reflect on my 201 class at the Upright Citizens Brigade New York.

The Whip at Drury Lane in 1909

As I alluded to earlier, things over at UCB had definitely become more interesting. Jon Daly, our instructor, was called away for a writing gig out in California and was replaced by Neil Casey of Death By Roo Roo. At first I was very nervous about the instructor change 5 weeks in to an 8 week class, but Casey proved to be an excellent instructor.

Part of what made Neil such a wonderful compliment for the class, is his ability to diagnose scenes and give detailed notes on opportunities, technicalities, and problems. This was very different approach to Daly who guided us through, much like a psychiatrist, asking us what we thought of our own scenes. This change in teaching style allowed me to recognize points which Daly had mentioned but I hadn’t fully understood.

One of the hardest parts about level 201, I found, is the complete gear change from thinking about scenes which happen organically, to becoming aware of the game in a scene.

At UCB, Improv 201 focuses on second beats, pattern game, and game work. All of these principals are the building blocks for performing a Harold, a type of long form improvisation. 201 marks the distinction, in my mind, from learning the basic principals of improv (agreement, character, object work, environment work) to long form.

First to define the terms for those who may not understand what I’m talking about.

Second beats are the continuation of improv scenes through a performance. Think of them like acts of a play, acts repeat to move the story along (Act 1: Family eating dinner, Act 2: Family clears dishes, Act 3: Family sitting in living room - Fascinating example huh?). This allows us to develop a story, through time and location. (as definned by Cin Wiki)

A pattern game is an opening game used to generate ideas from a single suggestion from the audience (ie - car, steering wheel, wheel, inventions, caveman, Fred Flinstone, drive-n, car) The pattern game continues until it comes back to the original suggestion. It then repeats for a total 3 times and on the third completion of the game coming back to the original suggestion, a group of scenes begins based on the ideas generated.

Game work is by far the most complicated of all the concepts and is something I wont be able to get into in this post. In principal, every scene can be boiled down to a game the characters are playing (I seek adventure from everything I do, including getting my lunch. Everything is therefore Indiana Jonesian in complexity). (as definned by Cin Wiki)

As I said, it’s a difficult concept.

UCB is big on game work. As is apparent from talking with improvisors in UCB harold teams. Good game play is a very important part of the UCB philosophy and is heavily stressed. Excellent game play is also what sets UCB’s teaching apart from other improv schools. However, game play is also very difficult to comprehend, in relation to the concepts that were laid out in 101. It wasn’t until week 6 that I began to understand game play and it wasn’t until after my class that I realized how to incorporate games into my scenes elegantly.

All in all, my 201 class was an eye opener. I learned a completely new improv skill set. I now am able to see my scenes in a larger whole. Next stop 202 Advanced Game Study with Joe Wengert.

As I’ve talked about earlier, Improv 201 at UCB is a very different change of gears from Improv 101. I believe this is mainly due to the move from single scenes toward the linked long form “Harold” scene work. 201 is a lot more cerebral than 101.

The other day while exploring second beats, our teacher, Jon Daly, said something which resonated with me that I thought I would share with you. A second beat in long form, is a continuation of the game from a first group of scenes, not a continuation of the plot. Confusing? How about an example?

Last Harold night one team, T.R.U.C.K.S., had a very clear game in the scene, which I will try to relate as accurately as possible. A couple sat down for dinner and the woman starts the scene off by explaining that a few months back a tryst they had together, had gotten her pregnant. Her partner started in with a game, basically not paying attention, or connecting to what she was saying. As much as she tried to tell him that she was pregnant, he would always interrupt her and talk about his rough work day and ordering a drink. The second beat of this scene, she was the director of a movie, but everybody asking questions at the premier asked them to the stunt man (The man from beat 1) and ignored her responses, finally ending in an interviewer (from what I remember) interrupting her to talk about his day.

I had a few drinks, so my recall is a little shaky.

The game of the scene is key, not the plot. Del often talked about the relationships between people in improv being important. In it’s purest form improv is the relationship of 2 improvisors on stage. Finding the beat is the beginning of moving towards the Harold.

After reading this entry, it appears I may have to flesh it out a bit more. Does this explanation make sense to anyone?

Finally my Improv 201 class, at UCB, is starting to come together. I’ve been having a rough time in class from the first day. I started Improv 201 directly after 101. In fact, I started 201 one day after finishing 101. This lack of time to reflect, sort of threw off my improv game. I jumped into 201 unprepared that the change in teaching styles and curriculum would effect my abilities, but it did.

I’ve always prided myself on having very little inner thought about my improv. I really try not to edit, think, or pre-plan my scene-work. Just jump out and hope for the best. My motto in improv has always been “dare to suck,” meaning that you have to be prepared to fail in order to be able to succeed. This motto had worked until I hit 201, where the sucking really wasn’t the problem, but rather the daring.

In Improv 201 there is emphasis on “finding the game” or “the game of the scene” and as much as I appreciate this notion, I believe this notion is flawed. “Finding” in my head means searching. Searching means thinking and thinking is definitely, analytical, left brain territory. Improvising I have always equated with the intuitive and creative right brain. Thinking about the game, automatically snaps me into my left brain, and in effect, turns off the improv side of my brain. My scenes have suffered as a result.

Then last class, I had a epiphany. “Finding the game” can have multiple definitions. While finding can mean “to discover (someone or something) after a deliberate search” it can also mean “to discover or perceive by chance or unexpectedly.” This was the definition I was looking for. “Finding the game” is too simplistic a description of what should be “notice, by chance, a game.” Granted, “Finding the game” does have a much better ring, but it’s important to understand that the purpose in not to look for the game, but rather to notice it when it passes by. This change in thought completely changed my scene-work.

It’s also important to note here, the change in semantics from “the” to “a”. “Finding the game” means there is one game to be found, and often frightened me into thinking, “Is this the game? Or is it the right game? Or is it just a game, but not the right one.” Contrarily, “finding a game” means, while there may be a lot of games out there to find, your job is just to find any one of them. It changes the performer’s relation to the game and allows them to move forward in their scene-work rather than spending time judging the game they have just found.

I got up on stage in class and started improvising, letting a scene unfold. Right off the bat my scene partner negated the reality of a very detailed scene I had built about the Mediterranean, and instead of letting it throw me, I noticed a game. I built more and more elaborate locations for her to nock down, and she did. After the scene ended, the teacher even noted that the negation of my scene-work could have been disastrous, but “Luckily, he knew what he was doing.” While it was a small compliment, it filled me with a true sense of accomplishment, that I had taken a step forward in my improv education and finally got what “finding the game” is about.