Yes, and abracadabra
I met someone who hated improv comedy.
“It’s just some people going up onstage and saying the most absurd things they can think of in an attempt to get laughs.”
I love improv comedy. I fought this person vehemently.
“If that is what performers are doing, then they aren’t really doing improv. In improv, you never try to be funny. Improv is about building a scene with your scene partners. Situations can get absurd, but that’s only because you’re really listening and reacting genuinely to the people around you, which we so often don’t do in real life.”
In return, I got raised eyebrows from my opponent.
“So you’re saying that if we listened and reacted genuinely in real life, we would just be in crazy situations all the time?”
“Not necessarily crazy- just more extreme. In improv, you take risks. You say the things that are scary to say in real life and do things you are scared to do in real life.”
More raised eyebrows. Followed by a laugh.
“Maybe that’s just how YOU do improv.”
I stopped to think about this. Was I the only one who used improv as my time to act boldly? Were fellow improvisers in my classes and improv troupes living wild real lives outside of our insane scenes in rehearsals and shows? I didn’t think so. I had to keep defending my art form.
“Regardless, the point of improv is not to make absurd situations. The point of improv…”
Now my competitor was leaning in and smirking. The point of improv, his eyes said as they rolled, as if improv could really have a “point”, as if any form of theater could actually have a purpose to it.
I continued at rapid speed, “The point is to create something from nothing using just your mind and body and the minds and bodies of your scene partners. It gets absurd, and it can be funny, but it’s only absurd and funny when people commit to the scenarios in which they put themselves. So the point of improv is to collaborate and to commit…which are also two things that are rarely done in real life.”
A pause. And some staring as though I had actually transformed into the bulky boxer he was battling.
“Why this separation between improv and real life, as if improv is this magical thing you do?”
“Improv is magical to me.”
I didn’t care how dumb I sounded. I lifted up my hands in simultaneous victory and defeat.
“Improv gives me magical powers. Going up in front of an audience and writing a story with my scene partners…doing things I can never do in real life like leading a football team or playing pranks on my twin brother or flying…it is magic.”
My competitor was not amused.
“Hmmm ok…enjoy living out your fantasies…”
Yes, and you enjoy avoiding yours.