Getting Yourself Into Trouble

Instant Trouble
“Instant Trouble” is any problem or conflict that occurs abruptly at the beginning of a scene. Because the problem happens so early in the scene, the players typically spend the rest of the scene trying to fix the problem.

E.g. Sarah is in the shower, relaxing, when suddenly the water turns cold. She jumps out of the shower and sets about finding the cause of the problem. She tries turning another faucet.. same problem. She calls in her husband who tries using a wrench on various pipes to no avail. They call a plumber but it’s the weekend. Finally, she boils some water, puts it in a bucket, and has her husband pour it over her slowly as she takes a “shower”.

In this example, the players have managed to tell a nice little story with a quirky ending; but ultimately, the story was about fixing the shower, not about the people involved. Sarah is completed unchanged in her relationship to herself and everyone around her. There isn’t any obvious follow-up scene to this one, because the problem is fixed.

Getting Yourself Into Trouble
While the natural urge in improv is to fix a problem, it’s much more interesting to get the person deeper and deeper into trouble by raising the stakes. This means taking active choices to amp up the tension.

E.g. Sarah is in the shower, relaxing, when suddenly the fire alarm goes off. She rushes outside, then realizes she’s naked. She tries to go back inside but discovers she’s locked out. She looks under the welcome mat for her key, but doesn’t find it. She looks up to discover that the next door neighbour’s kid is smirking, dangling the key in front of her. Sarah chases after the kid, and finally tackles him. With the key finally in hand, she looks up to see 2 cops standing over her, still naked and straddling a boy.

In this example, while there is still instant trouble, the players didn’t try to fix the problem by looking to put out the fire or find the source of the alarm. They raised the stakes and made the scene about Sarah’s humiliation. There are many possibilities for a follow-up scene: Sarah at the police station, Sarah trying to explain herself to the neighbours, a town council meeting where Sarah is discussed, etc.

This example came straight from a game of “Yes, Let’s” by my level 1 class. Pretty amazing given that I had just explained the concept of getting into trouble.

Advancing without advancing
It’s hard to get yourself into trouble. Often, improvisors fall into patterns where the trouble is just a series of obstacles keeping them from what they want. In the first example, Sarah is thwarted at every turn, but the trouble isn’t moving the story forward. If the husband is of no help, and the plumber isn’t at work, and the wrench is useless, what is happening? Nothing is happening. If the wrench fixes the problem, but then the shower no longer drains properly, what is happening? Nothing–we just put up another obstacle and are still trying to fix the shower problem.

Certified organic trouble
The most satisfying trouble is trouble that arises organically from the platform of your scene. If we know the character and what they care about, it will be much easier to get them into trouble with stakes that matter.

Trouble can come in many shapes, but physical injury is not usually helpful, because physical injuries usually require you to fix them. Here is another example from class where the students dealt with injury well:

E.g. A chef is preparing chicken in the kitchen of his restaurant. He has some wine. He nicks himself with his knife. He can’t find anything to stop the bleeding, and starts to feel faint. As he’s about to pass out, he grabs the chicken and uses it to apply pressure to the wound. (In class, this unfortunately fixed the problem, but what if…) Someone walks in to find the chef treating his wound with food… or it’s his last piece of chicken and he serves it to someone and they notice.

Let the trouble find you
Don’t look for trouble early in the scene. Establish your whos, whats and wheres and let the trouble find you.

When does the trouble end?
Once the stakes are high, it’s time for something BIG to happen. Don’t wimp out with an easy fix–the outcome of that something BIG should ideally alter your relationships and mean that you can no longer go back to the way things were before.

Finding the game
Getting into trouble is just one kind of game, that is, a pattern in the scene that gets repeated and amplified. By no means is getting into trouble the only way to approach a scene, but when trouble finds you, resist the temptation to fix it.

Real Names in an Improv Scene

Some improvisors routinely name characters in scenes after the actors playing them. I find this practice lazy.

This isn’t a beginner mistake; it’s a conscious strategy. Some folks think that by naming the character after the player, things will get less confusing if several characters get introduced. You’ll never forget a name if you never create one! So Jimmy always plays Jimmies and Sarah always plays Sarahs.

Lazy!

Names are inspirational! Would you play the scene the same way if your name was Elvira Godfried rather than Trace Jett? Ulf Parksson rather than Steve-o Barnaby?

A name is often the first gift to your partner; don’t give him socks on Christmas.

I’m ‘a start some drama

I don’t often see emotional reactions played out very much in improv. People are concerned with laughter and think that casually brushing off serious things is funnier than emotionally reacting to them. Hey, sometimes it is.

Other times, people will play out big emotions for fun with a definite wink to the audience. The actor puts on a big production and the audience is comfortable watching it because they know it’s for their enjoyment. If the actor commits, it’ll be funny and fun to watch.

But… it’s not realistic. If you aspire to produce real theatre, that is, if you are pretentious or like a bit of sand in your facial cream (do I have that expression right?), then maybe you will want to start some drama. This might make the audience uncomfortable because they might not feel like it’s for their enjoyment; they might just think you’re pretentious and have bad skin.

Small honest reactions are often pleasant to watch. A bit of happiness, some pouting, forlorn sadness–the subtle stuff won’t get you into trouble; it adds depth to your character and to the scene. But when I see BIG, honest emotional reactions attempted, the result tends to be overwrought and angst-ridden. It is worse than watching a joke go flat; it is a breach of trust. The audience signed up for a fun show and they got actors getting upset over ridiculous improvised premises. Who wants to see improvisors taking themselves seriously?

If you’re going to start some drama, I advise:

• Commit to it and act well. Seriously, don’t compound the possible fiasco of being dramatic by being a crappy actor.
• Pick your battles. If your mother is eloping with a space alien, do the big cheesy emotional reaction I talked about earlier. If an audience member is providing your arms, not ideal. If your girlfriend cheated on you with a human, maybe this warrants some drama.
• Buildup. Drama is much more difficult with short-form, especially games as alluded to above. If we barely know your character, we’ll think you’re overreacting even to things that demand big reactions. You’re just flipping out unless we feel you, dog. So, let us get to know you first.
• Add something to make them laugh. Create tension and then release.

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My general impression is that New York improvisors are down on drama (and plot) in improv. Many local Montreal improvisors think that honest emotional reactions are the cornerstone of Good Improv. Some improv schools gloss over emotional reactions altogether, and others bang on the drum all day.

When I see a good dramatic moment in improv (especially to end the show), it is better than anything–better than any hilarious bit, and better than any staged drama because of improv’s immediacy. Even the players don’t know what will happen! The intensity can be gripping, scary and heart-wrenching.

But sadly, most dramatic moments are painful to watch because very few improvised scenes (especially short ones) warrant that sort of reaction.

There is a time and a place for everything. Your job as an improvisor is to figure out when and where.

Yes Man: Review

I rented Yes Man, the Jim Carrey movie. The story follows a familiar improv premise:

A guy challenges himself to say “yes” to everything for an entire year.

The moral of the story is refreshing: saying “yes” to everything makes your life more interesting, but once you’ve learned how “yes” opens you up to all kinds of new opportunities, you are allowed to break the rule and say “no” if you really want to.

Naturally, the movie is very far-fetched and rather terrible, but you know that going in.

Perhaps more entertaining that the actual movie is pointing out all the points at which Jim Carrey blocks other people non-verbally. (He didn’t say no!)

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Once you know the rule, break the rule–it’s good advice, son. Here are some things you can do when you want to say “No” but it feels like it’s going against your improv jedi training:

• “No, And”: a well-placed no can lay some important groundwork or increase the tension in a scene. It’s only blocking if the other player feels blocked

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• Yes Means No: go along with it, but make it clear to the audience that your character is not happy about it one bit. This way, you can advance the story without forsaking your character’s principles.

Variety

When Mick Napier directs sketch comedy, he takes great care in arranging the sketches to vary up the pacing, the intensity and the subject matter of the scenes. In long-form improv, he says players in the wings often think about what to do and say next in support of the story or theme, without thinking of contrast. In other words, it rarely occurs to players to think “I just saw a long scene, the next one should be short”, or “I just saw an intense scene with shouting, the next one should be lighter.” Variety is something improvisors desire, but rarely think about in the moment.

I think his observation is right on the mark.

When we were in the habit of doing short-form games, we used to take ten to fifteen minutes (sadly, sometimes longer) to come up with and order the games just right. We’d open with a game to introduce all the players and we’d follow with a can’t-miss like Puppets. Manipulations can run long, so we’d plan a quick game to follow. We’d space out the audience participation, etc. In essence, we were taking variety, pacing and contrast into account beforehand, much like you would do for sketch.

Given that thinking about variety, pacing and contrast often eludes us in the moment, you can also take these into account in advance when developing a long-form structure. If you think about the Harold, the group games fulfill that very purpose.

Finding the game is BS?

Not so long ago, someone said something rather provocative to me: “Finding the game is some BS they teach at Second City in Toronto.”

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In short-form improv, we often call the scenes games. For instance, speak-in-one-voice is a game in which two players speak at the same time.

In improv, we often talk about “finding the game”, that is, creating a pattern out of something interesting or funny that we discover, and then repeating the pattern in different ways according to the rules we’ve made up. In long-from improv, the game can often become a sort of universal theme that we can wrap in different specifics. In shorter scenes, the game might just be a playful pattern. For instance, in a scene, you might have long-lost twins reunited who discover that they… speak in one voice.

If “finding the game” seems like a nebulous concept, just peruse any list of short-form games. All those familiar games are just examples of the types of games you might find on your own in a scene. Sit-Stand-Kneel? That’s a game! Old Job/New Job? Such a game!

If you grew up on short-form games, the game is under your nose! If you’ve played and enjoyed short-form games, then clearly, finding a new game can’t be BS!

Clown vs. Improv: trying to be funny

From our two clown workshops, I discovered that the biggest philosophical difference between clowning and improv is about how to be funny.

In improv, we learn and teach not to try to be funny. If you are focussed on being funny in an improvised story, you are not focussed on listening to your scene partners. You run the risk of playing in your head and not being in the moment. The humour in a scene is discovered organically rather than being scripted or forced.

In our clowning workshops, we were told to look in the mirror and make funny faces. The tall ones in the troupe were told to hitch up our pant legs to make us seem even taller and goofier. During exercises, our workshop leaders called out to us: “Clown! Be funny!” to make us reconnect with the audience.

The audience seems much more important to the clown that the improviser. It appears to me that everything the clown (both the character and the actor) does is directed towards the audience. There is eye-contact with the audience, talking to the audience, emotions played to the audience, etc. In improv, we are conscious of the audience–what is playing well and not–but we try not to pander to them. (Audiences sometimes love pandering improvisers, but the other players get annoyed.)

In a nutshell, the hardest thing about the clowning workshops for me was getting out of my head, or perhaps, getting into my head. When looking into the mirror making funny faces, I felt incredibly unfunny, and also like my brain was about the explode from the rewiring.

Given these contrasting approaches to humour, it’s somewhat ironic that the key in both cases is just to relax and have fun. And that I did, exploded brains and all.

How to: put on a corporate show

So you’ve been hired by someone to put on a show for a corporate group or private party, eh? Here’s what you need to know.

This type of show is not about you. It’s not about you being funny and it’s not about expressing your creativity. Do that on your own time, in your own shows. Leave your personal mission statement at the door.

The members of your audience at this type of show want to laugh with and at each other. Set them up to be the stars of their own show. Bring them up on stage and put them in situations where they’ll succeed or fail gracefully (and hilariously.) Trust me, the mail room guy making crappy sound effects into a microphone will be way more entertaining than your cleverest line or your most inspired bit of storytelling.

Forget long form. Stick to games and keep them short. Almost every game should involve audience participation, either with an audience member on stage, or with the audience participating from their seats. You can include a few low-participation games to cleanse the palate.

Things to do in advance:

• Bring your contact’s cell number in case of emergency. You might get lost. It happens.
• Ask your contact for names of important people and a short bio for each. Knowing a few things about your clients ahead of time can give you ideas. For example, at our last corporate show, we included a dancing game because we learned the vice president loved to dance. That piece of info was golden and provided a hysterical ending to the show. In my experience, bringing up a few executives (especially, the boss) works well. If the boss seems nervous or straight-laced, give them an easy job. Always make them look good. I also like to ask for a couple of names of people who are good to “pick on”–your office clowns, guys who drop the f-bomb around the water cooler, etc. If people are shy to volunteer during your show, you can pick from your list of names. As a rule, we discourage people at our public shows from volunteering their friends because reluctant volunteers are not usually happy volunteers; however, I make an exception for office and home parties. If people are keen to see a particular person come up, they will usually react in a positive way to everything that person does on stage.
• Ask the venue manager if they have a sound system and/or a microphone. Prepare your set of games accordingly
• Plan to get there early and plan to stay late. Such shows tend to start late, but that’s no reason for you to be late. Now, I’m being condescending.
• Plan a set list of games. Decide who is introducing what game (alphabetical order is where it’s at), or have one person introduce all games.
• Bring a bell and a buzzer. (See below.)

The set list:

As I mentioned, fill your set with audience participation. The all-time best game for these things is Family Dinner / Typical Day on the Job in which players act out members of the family or company that hired you. Bring a bell and a buzzer for an audience member to ring or buzz every time a player does something that is faithful or unfaithful to the real person. Other games that cannot fail are Puppets, Sound Effects and Arms Debate. Chain Murder is a bit risky because you need a high-functioning audience member. Considering going to your list of office clowns for that one. Other standards that work well are: Touch and Go (or some variant), Slide Show and Should Have Said. If your party happens to be celebrating an anniversary (or a wedding!), go for SPIV date, i.e. recreate their first date with one or both characters being played by 2 players speaking in one voice. For our last show, we considered having an HR person come up and interview a SPIV character for a job position.

Show time:
Arrive early, meet your contact, check out your performance space and, if applicable, test the sound system and microphone. If you’re performing at a restaurant, always perform after supper. If they are busy eating, they will be distracted, chatty and unlikely to volunteer for a game while their steak gets cold. Performing during desert and drinks is fine.

Warm up the audience. Introduce yourselves and get them to yell out a few things. They will be a bit chatty at first, so let them settle into the show during this part. If you want, you can even tell them that you’ll be looking for audience volunteers and promise to make them look good. Be charming!

Perform the show. Keep your scenes and games tight. Be prepared to change your set list in mid-stream if things are running long, short, or, uh, poorly.

Good luck! Gigs like these are usually a lot of fun. Being a working improviser is every improviser’s dream, so enjoy it for one night!

Gibberish

If you live in Canada, you’ve seen the gibberish tv advertisement for V_i_a_g_r_a. The makers of this drug are incredibly lucky to have a product that everyone knows. In Canada, it’s illegal to run an ad that ties a prescription drug to a particular disease, cure or treatment, but all they have to do is make sex jokes. How hard (wah-wah) can that be?

The premise for this series of ads is rather clever: you get a couple of dudes talking dirty about the sex they had the night before thanks to the drug, but have them talk in gibberish so that you can make them say what would otherwise be x-rated. Watch the video here:

In my opinion, the result is terrible. The dirty talk sounds nothing like a real language. You know they’re talking dirty, but if you had to translate the script into English, you’d be hard-pressed to pinpoint anything that was said. Knockertut? Dingle monkeyquank? Muftychuck wubble? They are no Tom Stoppard and this is no Dogg’s Hamlet. It all sounds like (ridiculous) nouns–no pronouns, no adjectives and no verbs. The ad company thought it’d be hilarious just to put funny words in there.

They were wrong. These ads insult my intelligence. I’m changing my prescription to c_i_a_l_i_s.

The ad would be way more effective if it sounded like they were talking a real foreign language. After all, the tagline is “The International language of v_i_a_g_r_a.” My best guess (and their only excuse) is that the ad company didn’t want to offend any nationality, so they chose not to make the language sound like any existing language.

However, there are plenty of ways to play the premise out without offending anyone. The simplest would have been to actually tape the ad in a foreign language but have had the actors intone PG words in such a way as to sound dirty.

The following script, or in fact any script, read in any other language could sound incredibly raunchy to an English audience. Any native speakers of the language would be in on an extra inside joke:

- I have to tell you all about V_i_a_g_r_a.
- Really?
- This will be a secret just between you and me.
- Wow.
- Yeah, I just had a fantastic night.

Vinny wrote about gibberish in improv a while back. If you want to distill all the rules into one: make your gibberish sound like a real language. That includes varying sentence length, changing intonations, the occasional hesitation, referring to people and important things by repeated use of their names and adding gestures. It’s hard; it takes practice. To get the hang of it, eavesdrop on people speaking another language.

When Keith Johnstone was in town earlier this year, he ran us through a gibberish exercise where he had lines of gibberish written out for the players on slips of paper. That freed us from having to invent words and allowed us to focus on giving them realistic intonations. It worked well. The gibberish lines had been written by students in a previous workshop. Whenever a word like Monkeyquank turned up on a slip of paper, he’d have the players rip it up.