Improvisational Theater
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
A Return to Hays
In 2012 I was invited to Fort Hays University in Hays Kansas to instruct
the university Theater Company in the work of improvisation. This was a first
time experience with improvisational theater for a majority of the
students. Many of them had never seen
improv performed and had not participated in the work, even in the form of
theater games and exercises. Those who had done improv before never imagined it
could be a stand alone performance craft. They had never considered it as artistry. If they expected anything at all it was
jokes, gimmicks and an emphasis on funny.
The students had nervously anticipated the
workshop. They worried they wouldn’t be funny enough, practiced what they might
say, what jokes they would try to use…etc. It’s a misunderstanding I run into
frequently. Initially the students were
baffled by my pedagogy and technique. “What do you mean by steer clear of punch
lines?” They asked. “Humor is a symptom
of improvisation” I told them, “At its best, humor arises out of an authentic
“accident” or an organic character response. At its worst the quest for humor
supersedes all and compromises the integrity of the whole. When we aim to be
funny, we limit ourselves. We privately
obsess, isolated in our desire to charm the audience. We loose touch with the
other improvisers, stop listening and are unable to connect to a group mind.
When we aim to be funny, we sacrifice more than we gain.” These words were met with confounded stares
and lots of questions which I welcomed and answered. We worked long hours that day. And to my delight, even as I tired, the
students remained enthusiastic, engaged and energetic. They hadn’t realized they wanted and needed
this work, but now they were hungry for it, starving.
By the end of that visit the Fort Hays
students were creating dynamic scene work alive with wholly realized
characters, authentic emotion, exceptional acting and carefully crafted
storytelling. I was as surprised and
proud as they were. They learned through
play. They grew from honoring their
mistakes. They learned to utilize their
every sense, to listen with their whole body and to believe every moment. I was delighted with their growth and astounded
by their willingness to work so hard despite having expected a laugh a minute
play time. We had laughed, a lot. We had
incredible fun together. But by the end
of that day the laughter inspired from their scene work arose out of commitment
to the navigating of many creative minds at work. The laughter arose from the audience’s
identification with the characters and the stories. The jokes and the gimmicks had died, and from
their graves grew honesty, imagination, group mind and a fresh perspective of
improvisation as a living performance requiring craftsmanship and artistry.
I had grown as much as they had, finally
accepting that I am a capable instructor, that I have a talent for sharing this
passion of mine. I had thought of myself as a good teacher, but this was more,
now I was a leader. I cannot describe the satisfaction of that feeling.
I was gladly invited back for a second visit and
have just spent two days leading an incredibly productive 12 hours of fun play
and hard work. Again I was astonished by the student’s zeal and motivation. The
returning students were relaxed and ready and the first timers were engaged and
willing. Again I found that many of the
new students imagined that improv was simply an unscripted sketch comedy. They had been told how fun last year’s
workshop was and signed up “just for the laughs”. I am always glad when a
workshop begins with this sentiment. It’s a less complicated task to pour
enlightenment into an empty cup than to attempt topping off an improv
encyclopedia. And again by the end of the workshop the students had come to a
greater and more holistic understanding of what improv is and can be. Their
performances were lovely, honest and yes sometimes very funny. The only trouble was, I left feeling like I
had so much more to give. Since the last
time I worked with them I’ve traveled quite a bit and taught in many new
places. I have developed a stronger
sense of my own theory, my own style, and my desires for the work and my design
for reaching those goals. 12 hours is
simply not enough. But 12 hours is all a visiting instructor is likely to get.
All of my hopes for the students had been realized, but after a few days in
Hays it was very clear that improv is a once a year adventure for these
students.
Back home in Portland, my community is brimming with
improv, everywhere you turn something new is popping up. There is seemingly no end to access to
improvisational theater here. Thus, my Portland students have an
obvious advantage. It’s a disappointing realization as I leave a group of truly
exceptional young actors. As this little
plane ascends from the tiny Hays Kansas airport I cross my fingers that I have
done more than altered their perspective of improv, I hope I have inspired them
to create opportunities for themselves to play and perform improvisational theater
with as much vigor as they pursue scripted theater. I hope I have opened a door and left it open.
I hope they are willing to walk through on their own, trusting their talent and
their capacity to create good, strong, entertaining pieces of theater spontaneously. I am already looking forward to my visit next
year.
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