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Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Improv Advice
by Kristen Schier
Everything Is A Gift
Ever have one of those days? A day when nothing seems to go right? Anyone who has been improvising for a while has had that experience on stage.
Oh, silly improviser, remember, everything that happens onstage is supposed to happen. If you have a “better” idea you can write a sketch about it later. Now is now, and whatever happens on stage is absolutely right. It is only when you begin seeing your own actions, and the actions of your scene partner, as perfection that you become truly open to all possibilities.
I have to tell you a story. This story involves me doing a play, and a particular improvised moment during the last performance that I am very proud of. I am bragging, but hey, I think it is a good story, and it illustrates the point.
The play was A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare, maybe you have heard of him. I played Flute, a character who performs for the Duke in the play Pyramus and Thisbe. You with me? We are talking a play within a play here, kinda like Inception. Good? Good. Let’s get down to business.
During the last night of the run, something did not go as planned. The actor playing Pyramus had a Styrofoam sword that he is supposed to kill himself with. After he kills himself, I am supposed to do the same, however, on the night in question, the Styrofoam sword that I was supposed to kill myself with broke before I could commit Hari Kari. Ahhhhhhhhhh!
There were 600 people in attendance at the show that night. When it came time to kill myself the audience along with the rest of the actors wondered what was going happen. How is she going to kill herself with a broken sword? Everyone was worried about it, everyone except me.
My improv training had prepared me for this moment. I knew I would figure something out. Even so, I was surprised at how calm I was. 600 people sat waiting for my death.
I took a breath and said my line, “Farewell friends, thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu”. I picked up the broken pieces in my hands, the sharp pointy tip in one, and the cross like hilt in the other. I took the sword’s halves and jammed one onto my back and the other on my stomach so it looked like I ran myself through with the sword, kinda like that silly arrow headband Steve Martin wears. Stupid, right? Simple. Nothing truly genius involved. Well, it generated about five minutes of non-stop applause from the audience. I am serious folks. Five minutes.
I ran away with the show.
That moment was only possible because I did not stop to think of the sword breaking as something going wrong. I thought of the moment as gift. Crapola happens. It happens in life and it happens on stage. Someone will throw a curve ball your way. Something will go terribly wrong. How come the greatest souls and the greatest improvisers (I do not claim to be one here) thrive under these conditions? It is because for them – nothing has gone wrong. Everything that happened was supposed to happen – and more than that, it was exactly right.
You see, the trick of improvising is not to be quick on your feet, or quick to think of something clever, but to be quick to accept whatever comes your way and trust enough to build on it. It is never the choice, and always the commitment to the choice that really matters. I dare to say it is a little bit like faith. At the very least you must acknowledge that whatever happens on stage. Wishing or hoping that something else was said or done will do you no good. It is happening now, like it or not, so you might as well perceive it as a gift, so that you can make something of it.
It is your job to see more in your partner’s choices than they ever did, and to commit more to your own choices too, to look not at what you coulda, shoulda, woulda done, had you the moment to replay. Embrace what you or your teammates are doing, and treat it as veritable genius.
In order to truly see the perfection of every choice you must be supremely relaxed - part of this means letting go of the notion that there is a better, more appropriate choice than the one made. That illusion is brought to you by your pre-planning, the root of which is fear. Once you start to worry about what was said or done instead of receiving it as a present, you will be out of the present – see what I did there?
There are no excuses for passing judgment! The moment you stop to pass judgment on even the weakest, crudest, foulest choice is the moment you stand outside of it all and become a critic rather than an actor. You give the audience a window into your thought process and invite them to play the critic too. They can tell you think it is crap the moment you do – and they are all too quick to join you in your assessment.
Fortunately, the audience’s readiness to perceive things the way you do works the other way as well. If you see your partner’s actions, or your own, for that matter, as treasure, the audience will do the same. It is a deeper affirmation at the heart of the creative process. It goes beyond simple agreement to an unflappable positivity. It can be seen in an exercise as simple as passing sound and motion. Watch people’s faces when it is their turn to create a new sound/motion combination. Are they delighted to make something up and share it with the group, or does their face twist up like they smell something disgusting after they present their offer? You must learn to enjoy the process of creating, and to get behind your own creation before you can expect the audience to.
Take the next step with me to see how this improv philosophy applies to life. Ever hear people saying that those terrible things that happened must have happened for some greater good? It is a beautiful sentiment for a reason, because there is truth in it. After doing improv for several years I have come to understand and believe in it even more. Again, whatever happens in life, there isn’t any use in pretending it didn’t happen. That is a waste of energy. Rather you should set about seeing what is usable, learnable and positive about the situation. Sure, this radical positivity takes a kind of abstract faith, but it is also grounded in what the real world has delivered to you. Terrible things can happen, it’s true, but there may be good in them, though it is hard to see. You might as well perceive it as a gift.
If you have an improv question to ask Kristen you may contact her at
kschier at gmail dot com
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