Truth in Comedy: The Manual of Improvisation (10 page)

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"When you were on stage, you said the opening line, the person who jumped up on stage
said another line, and you had to respond. That meant that in those three lines, you had to
identify who you were, where you were,
and what this scene could be about. We quickly
learned to identify the who, the what, the where and the why in three lines," says Kazurinski.
"Then, you left the stage, and the person who only had the one line stayed on stage. Another
person
entered, and another scene started.

"It was like the nuns that drilled me on my times tables back in school. It was just brutal,
but I learned my times tables and my scenes! Del had us do these things time and time again
until we had the point in our heads —
get in there, get it done, don't do 'here we are in Spain.'

"When he was working us, he knew just the right exer
cises to break us out of our rut.
There were times when we would come to class when Del had drifted off or wandered or
jabbered too much, but when you came the next time and he was on, he could say things to
whip an entire class into a frenzy. We were so focused, there were doors slamming open in our
minds and shafts of light streaming in. We would go,
That's
what it's about!
That's
how to do
it!
That's
why I'm here!' He would jump you and get your ass up on stage and work you, and it
would become so clear as to what it was all about. He's one of the true geniuses I've ever met."

KEY POINTS FOR CHAPTER FIVE
*Make assumptions —
don't ask questions.

*Look for the game within your scene and play it.

*Listen and remember.

*Listen for the whole idea in a statement.

*Avoid preconceived notions.

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CHAPTER SIX

Moment to Moment to Moment

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.

—
John Lennon

The games of ping pong and chess require very different strategies.

Chess players must plan many moves ahead, and players concentrate on pushing their
own moves forward, despite the designs of their opponents.

In addition to being a physical game, players cannot plan ahead in ping pong; they have to
react in a split second.

One player cannot "pong" until his opponent has "pinged." He can aim his return shot,
and even try to anticipate the next volley, but ultimately he has to focus his attention on where
the ball actually lands on his side of the table.

Unlike a chess player, he cannot be thinking several moves ahead —
he has to pay
attention to that moment. And that moment leads directly to future moments.

Improv is much closer to ping pong than it is to chess. Actors create an improv scene in
the same spontaneous way.

An actor following each moment through to the next is constantly making discoveries, an
ideal state for improvisers. If a player is planning ahead and thinking about the direction he
wants the action to go, then he isn't paving attention to what is going on at the moment.
Unfortunately for him and his fellow actors, what is going on at the moment is the scene!

This is a mistake that happens all too often, and may even occur with an experienced
performer. When he thinks he sees where a scene is headed, he may steer it that way, without
paying careful attention to what is happening on stage at that moment. He's living for the
possible future of the scene at the expense of the present.

Unless it is part of a game move, improvisers should resist trying to fulfill the audience's
expectations, says George Wendt of
Cheers;
fortunately this is easier in improv than for
performers trying to develop material further.

“Always
assume the audience is one
step ahead
of
you?”
he says, quoting one of most
useful rules he learned while working with Del.

In improv,
you almost never give the audience what they're expecting, because you're
working on the fly —
this really relates more to shaping the material.

"Always assume that the audience is going to get the easy joke. In other words, if an
audience sees a set-up coming, they're less likely to laugh at the joke. If they see a set-up
coming, you'd better do a quick 180 and give them something that they don't expect," he says.

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"This dates back to the audiences that defined the Compass Players and the original
Second City folks, audiences that were truly one step ahead of everyone else, that highly intel-
lectual beatnik literati sort of coffeehouse
crowd. But it holds true."

Wendt says the principle has also proven true in his television work.

"The concept of respect for audiences holds true in the most successful comedies, and I'll
lump
Cheers
in with that. I think
Cheers
is quite clever, and a large part of the success of
Cheers
is due to a basic respect for the audience. I understand that in writing sessions, if two
writers think of the same joke at the same time, they throw it out. Too easy. It has many
corollaries, but I think you should always
assume that the audience is one step ahead of you."

There's certainly nothing wrong with a prepared Harold performer, as long as the actor is
willing to drop his preconceptions
immediately.

For example, two actors are on stage talking about ordering a pizza, when a third player
decides to enter the scene as a pizza delivery man. If one of the actors greets him with, "I see
the new manhole covers have arrived," then his pizzas have immediately
turned into manhole
covers. He must be light enough on his feet
to spring from moment to moment, according to
the needs of the scene, no matter how brilliant his own ideas may be (or how little sense
he
thinks the other actors are making).

The only appropriate response the actor bearing the pizzas-turned-manhole covers can
then make is, "Yes, here are your new manhole covers,
and. . .,"
with the actor making one of
countless thousands of choices to continue the action.

If something unusual or unexpected occurs, an inexperienced actor sometimes ignores it,
thinking it
isn't important because it's not in line with what he thinks should be happening.
Wrong!
The actor entering the scene, the audience, and even the other actor may all be expecting
a pizza —
indeed, it's probably the most appropriate move —
but if one actor decides the man
is delivering manhole covers, then he is right, and everyone must immediately accept it.

Everyone might initially view this as a mistake, but the only true mistake is for the other
actors to ignore or negate him, and turn manhole covers back into a pizza. So the actors must
justify the line, and can only do so by being in the moment.
Remember, if everyone justifies
everyone else's actions, there are no mistakes.

That unexpected line could be the interesting twist that shapes the scene right before the
players' eyes. The pizza delivery is appropriate and expected, but the arrival of a person with
manhole covers is guaranteed to make the scene more interesting!

After all, a scene is almost never about what the players think it's going to be about. Once
underway, the actors follow the scene along, but they shouldn't try to control it.
The scene is the
result of the relationship between the characters, and the relationship that grows from those
explored moments.

Nothing is ignored.

Nothing is forgotten.

And nothing is a "mistake."

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THE REASON WHY

Since one of the most important responsibilities of an improviser is justifying what his
fellow players say and do, everything that happens on stage is used to build the scenes —
so
there
can't
be mistakes if it's all accepted.

Of course, not^vgrything needs to be justified immediately. Everything heard should be
remembered and eventually used; the players will make sense out of it before the scene is over.
One of the primary uses of discovery is finding how some seemingly confusing element
introduced early in a scene (and apparently forgotten) is found to have a vital place in the
denouement.

One of the surest audience-pleasers in an improv scene is also one of the easiest to
accomplish. A crowd delights in seeing a player pull out a forgotten scenic element just in time
to solve a problem —
like a chess player suddenly executing a checkmate, apparently out of
nowhere.

An example of
delayed justification
is a scene between Mary and Robin. Mary looks over
her doll collection, while Robin is sitting at a desk, engrossed in figuring out bills.

MARY: "I can't figure out why I keep finding the heads torn off my dolls."

ROBIN: "You owe me fifty dollars for the phone bill."

MARY: "I don't have the money for my share of the bill."

(The pair starts quarreling, until Robin gives
up in frustration. Finally, she calmly walks
over and
tears the head off a doll.)

The two of them were able to justify the opening line brilliantly (although the ending of
the scene appears obvious on paper, it is something else entirely when the audience watches it
being created). The scene was not about pulling the heads off dolls; it was about the
frustrations of two roommates. In improvising the scene, the players discovered the past his-
tory of their relationship. The missing heads obviously indicate that Robin has been frustrated
by her roommate in the past, and allows for some interesting possibilities if the scene is
continued in the future.

An actor can only justify scenic moves —
and
any seeming "mistakes" —
if he is "in the
moment," and not planning ahead. Two easy exercises to help develop this are the Conducted
Story and the One-Word Story.

ONE-WORD STORY

The One-Word Story is one of the simplest of all improv exercises, and very
useful for
teaching the importance of staying in the moment.

Here, a group of players (usually six to eight) build a story one word at a time. The basic
method sees the actors line up on stage and, beginning at one end, each speaking one word,
forming sentences and telling a story.

This is quite easy to do, assuming the players don't try to plan ahead, but more difficult to
do smoothly and well. The words should come quickly, practically without thinking (though of
course they should be sensible, coherent
sentences), but the group should make it sound as if
one person is telling
a story at a normal, conversational pace.

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One of the best ways to achieve this is by
listening
—
paying
attention to what is going on
at the moment. It's impossible to
think
about
what to say in advance, because one player
can
Completely change direction, and a player who
thinks Baking
only delays the story. The
response should be reflexive rather than a carefully chosen word (this is in sharp contrast to
scenes, where each response is slowly and carefully considered). The word "and" should also
be avoided, and players must strive to sound like one voice.

As the group becomes more comfortable with the game, there are other devices to
enhance its value. One variation has any player who delays in responding to step out of the
group, eliminating the slower players one by one, as in a spelling bee; this teaches the group to
keep up the pace. Naturally, inappropriate responses also cause players to lose (when played in
front of a group or an audience, good-natured jeering often results). When a player fails, he is
often forced to stage his own death before the audience and his teammates, preferably in some
manner that reflects the story at that point. Another technique, particularly used
in a
performance (or as an opening exercise) utilizes a theme, a title, or an audience suggestion for
the story.