Improvisation E-Book

Jason Moran

• Herausgeber: The Crowood Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Serie: Crowood Theatre Companions
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 253

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Improvisation is a highly creative and collaborative art form, encompassing the skills of storytelling, character creation and stage presence all in the moment. However, with an array of styles and techniques to choose from, it can be hard for new practitioners to negotiate the moving parts and find their own individuality. In this practical guide, Artistic Director and improv expert Jason Moran explores the basic pillars of improvisation and explains how to practically apply these in an improvised scene, game or situation. Each chapter showcases a different pillar and offers a practical checklist to make each scene interesting and robust. This helpful book unpacks and analyses real-life improvised examples from the stage, rehearsal room and classroom, illustrating to the reader what works well and what could work better, making it essential reading for actors, presenters and anyone who wants to increase their confidence in public performances.

Leseprobe

Improvisation

A PRACTICAL GUIDE

Improvisation

A PRACTICAL GUIDE

Jason Moran

First published in 2021 byThe Crowood Press LtdRamsbury, MarlboroughWiltshire SN8 2HR

[email protected]

www.crowood.com

This e-book first published in 2021

© Jason Moran 2021

All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 78500 932 7

DisclaimerEvery reasonable effort has been made to trace and credit copyright holders. In the event of an omission, please contact the publisher, who will be pleased to add a credit in any future edition.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Preface

Introduction

1 Storytelling

2 Yes, And…

3 Using your Body and the Space

4 Spontaneity and Listening

5 Finding the Game

6 Making the Audience Care

7 Improv Beyond the Stage

8 Teaching, Coaching and Directing

9 Corporate Improv Training

10 Index of Games

References and Bibliography

Index

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the Viola Spolin estate, specifically Aretha Sills and Carol Sills, for their support on the history of improvisation, and to Bloomsbury Publishing for their support with the same subject matter.

I must say a big thank you to all the great improvisers that have come and gone before us, and to the teachers and performers I have met over the years.

I’d like to thank my mother, Colette Moran, and my aunt, Vera Wegner, for their support and input on the human side of improvisation, and its benefits around mental health specifically, and to my partner, Alexis Moore, for keeping me motivated throughout.

Also, thank you to Jake Lyons for his friendship and mentorship over the years; indeed thanks go to all the Livewired comedy improvisation troupe (hereafter referred to simply as Livewired) and its community, past and present, as well as the London Improv Theatre.

Special thanks go to Jonathan for his diligence and research on the history of improvisation, and to Pali for her input in this text. (Both made appearances in the illustrations, along with Emma; other actors appearing are Tom, Katie and Paul from Livewired.) A final big thanks goes to Andrei for photographing the images.

Photo and illustrations: Andrei Avram.

Actors: Jonathan Reed, Pali Jhita, Emma Birkett, Tom Lovegrove, Katie Colley and Paul Whyman.

History of Improvisation: compiled by Jonathan Reed.

The Dark Side of Improv: written by Pali Jhita.

Improvisation and Mental Health Colette Moran BA and Vera Wegner MACBT, MIACP.

PREFACE

The one thing we all have in common is the unknown: what’s going to happen next? As children we knew no different – we relied on the people around us to guide us through our early life, our parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, teachers, friends, schools and community. Life was joyous, and everything we did we wanted to do right, we wanted to aspire and to learn. For some it was academic – to read, study, or be good at maths – for others it was sport, while yet others loved the manual work that occupied their parents, such as farming or working with machinery, tailoring or working as a seamstress, or cooking and baking. It didn’t matter, there was something in all of us that drove that early passion and joy of learning something new. But at some point the unknown became scary and made us feel unstable, and as creatures of habit we built ourselves a routine to make our lives predictable and keep us feeling safe.

My acting journey started early in life, when as a child I went to a local speech and drama class: something about it made me feel at home. I wasn’t a good footballer, nor was I particularly cool or popular, but in this class I felt as if I had found my place. This feeling never left me, and as I grew into adulthood I continued to enjoy and train in theatre and acting.

As an actor I loved the predictability, routine and ceremony of performing in a play: arriving at the theatre at the same time each evening, having a snack and a pre-show shower, then the application of make-up and costume, and lastly a light warm-up before going on stage. This routine made me feel safe, and it became part of the ceremony in preparing for the show – and if one item in this routine was left out it had a knock-on effect that rippled through the entire performance of the play on that occasion.

Improvisation to me then was a simple tool I would use if I forgot or miscued my lines, or if a fellow actor forgot their lines: then one of us would ‘wing it’ and improvise lines to get us back on track. It is also a common practice of many directors to use improvisation as a rehearsal mechanism while we work out our characters. I have used this technique myself with actors whom I have directed, and I still do.

In truth I never appreciated the full depth of this art form until I randomly walked into an improv class – and there it began. In that room on that day were a few other actors like me, looking to take a short course and thereby strengthen a skill long forgotten since drama school. There were also marketeers, advertising producers, dancers, stand-up comedians, people looking to improve their confidence and public-speaking skills, and some just looking to have fun.

All of us were uncertain, nervous and excited. We were already sharing the magic of improvisation before the class even started, and what happened with us over the next weeks, months and years I have seen happen hundreds of times since with the groups I have taught, coached and directed. A bond formed that none of us ever forgot.

To this day I am still in touch with most of those in that first improvisation class. I have carried on doing acting projects with some of these people, while others I have trained and worked with as we continued our improv journey and training.

Some of us have continued our careers as actors, comedians, teachers, while others have moved to direction, production, dance, music – and the people not involved in performance arts have continued to use their improvisation training in their worlds of advertising production or as corporate facilitators or trainers. When we reunite once a year or so we can still remember our first improvised scenes with each other, and the joy we shared all those years ago.

What tends to fascinate people most when watching improv, especially for the first time, is the idea that a structured story with rounded characters can be made up, right there on the spot and with no preparation. I can remember myself as a young teenager watching Whose Line Is It Anyway? in both the US and UK versions, doubting the authenticity of the show, wondering if the actors really were making it up, thinking they must have had a tip-off before the show, or been given a template to work from. This couldn’t be real. Even my mother, who has spent a lot of time also treading the boards, had some degree of doubt.

How wrong I was! Once the skills of improvisation were explained and taught to me, and I began to apply them in improvised scene building, my view began to change. I even came to a point where I’d prefer to improvise completely instead of working from a script. And as you can imagine, this is a complete turnaround for someone whose initial training was traditional acting.

Now looking back at my doubts of how authentic improv is, I can’t imagine ever having, or wanting to have, any kind of tip-off as to what I might be doing in a scene or game – and this will be the same for any active improviser you speak to. Not having the magic of the unknown would hold us back, as it is the spontaneity and discovery of improvising that drives the art form.

INTRODUCTION

People often say that life is one long improvised session. For some people it is natural: they can wake up in the morning and are happy to ‘let the chips fall where they may’, and take everything in their stride. This is not to say that these people don’t follow a routine, as they would follow a routine as normal as the rest of us – they would be woken by an alarm, would exercise, shower, eat, commute, work, socialize, go home, eat, wind down and sleep: but their approach to all of these activities would be to meet each circumstance as it happened, and variation and a last-minute change of plans would not bother them. In other words, they have no problem with being spontaneous.

Others have a great capacity to think on their feet in social conversations or when presenting work in a more formal environment. They appear to have a depth of information that is stored and accessible in their heads, and which can be conjured up when required. The truth of it is that they can hold the stage long enough to give themselves a chance to find the information they need, or to use techniques to hold the conversation and be comfortable outside their comfort zone. All these things require practice and an element of confidence, but they are skills that can be attained over time as people grow. Improvisation makes people braver with their decisions, and encourages curiosity and an open mind-set.

It goes without saying that improvisation has many transferable skills that people can take into their personal and professional lives. It is also a useful training for people who may have no intention of performing in public, but which when applied can reap great benefits. It also comes into use when dealing with anything creative.

What this means to me is that every idea grows from a spark, so it needs to be heard – to be understood and built on. And if what is added is not working for the artist, it has at least removed a certain avenue of investigation, and the artist can move on in another direction.

Music also owes a great deal to improvisation, as any musicians who are reading this will acknowledge, when they consider the number of times they have sat with their instruments and played around with a few notes or chords, maybe with some lyric or even just a feeling, and from these beginnings have organically cultivated a song.

It is also not unusual for a group of musicians within a band to use improvisation when working with each other, sometimes in an informal way when playing around for fun or in order to come up with ideas, but also in the performance itself, making small adjustments that may or may not evolve and become a part of the official act.

Improvising in the moment is best recognized in sport, for example where a great footballer such as Ronaldo might improvise with a flick of the shoulder in a movement so fast that if they were to think about it, the moment and the opportunity would be gone. Having the skill and confidence to react instantly brings us opportunities, knowing and believing that in that moment it is the right thing to do. My favourite sporting improvised moment of all is Maradona in the 1986 World Cup quarter-final game against England, where he improvised and scored the most talked-about goal ever scored in a World Cup competition. Controversial? Absolutely! Premeditated? Personally, I don’t think so. Genius? Yes, a great example of improv, showing risk and reward.

As I started to put this book together and looked at my own journey into improvisation, my feeling always led me back to what I would have read when I was starting out. What practical things would help me become a better improviser? Does just theory work? Would practical steps, with simple tips and tricks, be enough? Or do you need to find the right balance?

So it is clear that improvisation can be understood and used in different ways, depending on the need.

As you continue your journey you should see that all of these are valid. And taking these into your life as a performer and an individual is more important, as it makes your improvisation more believable. Over the course of my teaching I have seen the most unlikely people become amazing improv performers. They have begun in simple ways, such as having that belief in themselves to stand there with nothing and just trusting their spontaneity; then applying the practical steps that you learn to get stories and scenes up and running; understanding some theory enough to make you creative in your own space by using the tools and the processes that exist as an unwritten agreement with your co-improvisers; and the most important rule of all: having fun.

Remember the joy we had as children when all the world was joyous, and failure did not exist. We did so many amazing things as we grew up, things that we would struggle to do now: learning to walk, speak and understand an entire language, communicating with people around us, reading and writing, riding a bike. We have been improvising since the day we arrived, and we continue to do so.

IMPROV IN A NUTSHELL

Improvisation embraces a concept, a tool and an art form:

A concept: Sometimes your instinct tells you that this is the right thing to do, and you act spontaneously in your performance (a performance could be as simple as a conversation you are having in a bar).

A tool: The concept of improvisation is used to put together a product organically – this might be a dance sequence, a piece of theatre or film, or a structured process within a place of work.

An art form: How to get out on a stage and improvise a story with fellow actors. This book will concentrate on the art form.

HISTORY

Open most improvisation books, or research it on the internet, and you will probably find that most consider Commedia Dell’Arte to be the closest great-grandparent to improvisation as we know it today. Originating in the 1500s, it was made up of several stock characters that would recur in performances, the scenarios and storyline changing each time. The popularity of this roaming improv troupe was evident throughout Europe for 200 years, and due to the variety of dialects across Italy and of languages across southern Europe, the performance relied on strong gestures – sometimes obscene – a high level of physicality, such as jumping around the stage, and slapstick comedy. As chaotic as this may have seemed, the performers were in fact working together as an ensemble, and supported each other’s ideas as well as the reaction of the audience – in much the same way as improvisation actors today.

Improvisation as a tool for the theatre came to two people at the same time, on opposite sides of the Atlantic: Viola Spolin in the USA, who developed her programme of theatre games in the late 1920s and 1930s, and Keith Johnstone in the UK, who developed his tools for rehearsal in the 1950s. The story of how these two pioneers developed and refined the use of games as a tool for rehearsal and theatre is the driving factor behind the development of modern improvisation on both sides of the Atlantic.

In the late 1920s and 1930s Viola Spolin began to experiment with using improvisational games as a rehearsal tool, having been inspired by a former teacher who placed an emphasis on the use of play. She devised a series of theatre games to create spontaneity in a performance, and practised and refined these in Chicago in various groups. Her son, Paul Sills, used these games in a newly formed theatre group – The Compass Players – to create a new kind of show.

What started as a means of creating narrative pieces eventually evolved into a variety show based on shorter scenes and games. The Compass Players gave a start to what became the well-known double acts of Elaine May and Mike Nichols, and Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara. But it also had amongst its early alumni Del Close, who was to become instrumental in the development of improvisation in the USA.

In 1959, Paul Sills, along with Bernie Sahlins and Howard Alk, set up The Second City, which developed the improvisational techniques of The Compass Players into full revues. Though Second City used improvisation to create scripted material and revues, it was Del Close who developed improvisation into a performance style. In 1981 he set up Improv Olympic (later known as IO) with Charna Halpern to pursue this style, which became the home of their signature piece the ‘Harold’.

The ‘Harold’ was developed in 1967 as a form that would present several of the tools available to improvisers in one form – the monologue, the scene and the group game – and it is still one of the most popular long forms practised today. Many of the skills of good long-form improvisation (see below) are contained within it, and it is often learned first as a basis for learning other forms. From this starting point came a huge variety of forms that provided new and innovative ways to structure long-form improvisation.

The US improv circuit gave the first break to a large proportion of the US comic talent. Bill Murray, Mike Myers, John Belushi, Amy Poehler and Tina Fey are just some of the many comedians who started their careers on a US improv theatre stage.

Back in the UK, Keith Johnstone was developing his own theatre games to help him direct at the Royal Court Theatre. Having no formal drama training himself, he changed from using the most modern techniques and instead invented his own games to bring out the relationships between the cast members. Keith started demonstrating his techniques, but they were so successful and enjoyable to watch that the cast started performing, rather than demonstrating. The newly formed improvisational theatre was called ‘Theatre Machine’, and was commissioned by the British Council to tour Europe. Later moving to Canada, Keith Johnstone established the Loose Moose Theatre and Theatre Sports, a licensed format of competitive improv games.

Improv returned to the UK again in the 1980s after – as the story goes – Mike Myers taught improv to the Comedy Store Players, established in 1985. They were a big hit, and several members joined the cast of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, a short-form improv show that aired on UK television from 1988 to 1999, and then later on US television from 1998. Now, the UK improv scene is thriving, with several theatres and styles on show.

Traditional theatre still uses improvisation as a tool, allowing actors to explore their characters in more depth and in film making. Many directors encourage actors to surprise their co-actors, in order to instil real reactions. Improvisation is used in both drama and comedy. One of the most famous improvised scenes is Joe Pesci’s improvised ‘Funny how’ scene in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. Although this scene was subsequently written and heavily rehearsed before being shot, the idea came from a real experience, and when shared with the director, it was suggested that initially it should be improvised.

Mike Leigh is also known for using lengthy improvisation to devise characters, and then films the improvised scenes as his characters encounter new scenarios.

SHORT-AND LONG-FORM IMPROVISATION

Improvisation is usually split into two types: short form and long form. Short-form improv is:

• a series of individual games

• that are (as the name suggests) short – about a maximum of 3–5min each

• in which the game is set and explained in advance and then played

Long-form improv is:

• a series of connected scenes structured in a pre-agreed format

• that are (as the name suggests) collectively long – at least 20min altogether, and anything up to a full-length play

• in which the game is usually discovered by the players, either organically or basing it on something the audience said

Short-form Improv

Short-form improvisation is the performance of already pre-defined games or scene structures developed by Viola Spolin and Keith Johnstone, as set out above. The games played are numerous and always evolving, but many can be found in Keith Johnstone’s Impro and Viola Spolin’s Improvisation for the Theatre. There are also some example games given at the end of this book.

Long-form Improv

Long-form improv is the style developed by Del Close and Charna Halpern at IO Theatre, and it gave rise to many incredible formats, including the Harold, the Armando, and Improvised Shakespeare. Other US and now UK theatres also practise long form, such as UCB, Groundlings and The Annoyance. Second City is slightly different in that it hosts a lot of short-form shows and rehearsed revues, where the sketches were developed through an improvisation process.

THE HAROLD

The Harold is often taught in many improv schools that focus on long-form improv because it contains so many of the essential elements of an improv format. You can find out more about the Harold and IO in Truth in Comedy: The Manual of Improvisation.

The Harold requires an opener before the team (usually up to seven players) can begin. Typically, a member of the team will ask for a single word from the audience: this inspires a series of monologues, and the team will base their scenes on the material that comes out of those monologues.

The team initiates three scenes, each inspired by the material from the monologue, but all separate. These scenes set the tone and ground the format – they usually establish characters and relationships, and discover the game of the scene (more on that concept later).

To break up each of the acts, some groups run a short-form game also based on the word provided by the audience. These short-form games in between acts can be pre-formatted, and improvised within that, but in most cases they are ambiguous and invented on the spot.

The team then plays Act 2 of their three scenes again – this is a chance to explore the relationship or game they found in the first scene, but this time heightening the stakes, so perhaps in a new location or after time has passed. The second beat can also take a lead character from the first beat and just focus on them, in a new heightened version of the scene.

Then another group game is played.

Finally in Act 3 the scenes are played out again, the relationships and games having been explored to the maximum, and the connections between each of the scenes having been found. This can be done by referring to other characters, or to ideas from the scenes, or the characters can cross scenes and meet each other.

THE ARMANDO

Created by Armando Diaz, a founding member of the Magnet Theatre in New York, this format begins with a monologue from one of the players based on a real event or point of view. The format originally had Armando Diaz delivering the monologues because he was renowned for telling brilliant stories. The team then improvises a series of scenes – separate and connected – on the back of this monologue.

The Armando is a much freer style than the Harold, and gives the team a great deal of freedom to play with editing their scenes. For example, to bring a scene to an end, another player might run across the stage as if to mimic a curtain. And in tagging, a player who is not in a scene taps one of the performing players on the shoulder and takes their place, leaving the other player or players there. He or she could then initiate a brand-new character and scene with those players who remain. The scene is eventually edited, and another monologue begins to inspire some new scenes, not usually based on the same theme, although I have seen improvisers ask for new themes or words. An Armando can be forty minutes long and contains roughly three monologues and three scenes.

The Scene Is What Matters

There are too many formats to mention, but these are the two best known and most widely practised. This is probably because they both represent two approaches so well, the Harold being very structured in devising a format, and the Armando being free flowing. But whatever format you use or watch, it doesn’t really matter. Long-form formats are rather like Lego: sometimes it is amusing to follow the instructions and build what is on the box cover, at other times it is fun just to go freestyle. What matters is the basic building block of long-form improv: the scene. The scene is the most basic and critical unit. Get that right – create genuine relationships and grounded games that the audience recognize from their suggestions – and it doesn’t really matter what format you use. Just build one scene on the other in any format you like (like Lego).

1

STORYTELLING

What makes a good story? Ask this question to a group of your friends and their answers will probably include ‘drama’, ‘comedy’, ‘funny characters’ or ‘something interesting happens’. All these are components of a good story, but what is missing? What always stands out to me is ‘detail’, because it is the detail that draws in the listener or audience and keeps them interested.

I grew up in a rural town in the west of Ireland, and I have never come across better storytellers than the people I grew up with and who still live in this town. There, a story – any story – contains plenty of detail; it is a tradition that has come from somewhere and has remained. Ask anyone in the local bar what they got up to on Saturday night, and the way the story is woven out is mesmerizing. It’ll more than likely begin with what they were doing before they went out, who texted or called them, or what function they had already planned to go to. Then who was in the taxi, who was driving it, and where they were all going – even what they may have been wearing.

By the time they get to the part you were interested in or had talked about, you could have been twenty minutes talking and not been bored, because now you are ready to really understand the story. You know how they were feeling and why they felt that way (you’ve been given the context to what they were doing earlier and what their frame of mind would have been), and what experiences since leaving home had led them to this point (whom they may have met would have influenced them, whether the person was annoying, or funny, or told a sad story). In short it means that now, you care about the storyteller. You have an insight into why they might have said and done whatever happens next.

From a cultural perspective, and looking at how my background in storytelling shaped my own style, I began thinking of this in terms of improvisation.

IN PRACTICE: THE ‘WHO, WHAT, WHERE’

A common approach with beginners in improvisation is almost always to jump straight into the drama and open with an argument, or blaming someone for something, or with a disaster. There is a belief that we need to grab the attention of the audience early and keep them interacting – and if we don’t, they will get bored and lose interest. There may be an element of truth in this, but there is a whole series of detail that is missing, and without that the audience won’t care.

As soon as the actors step on the stage, the audience have a series of subconscious questions they will need answers for. Who are these characters? Where are they? And what are they doing there? Without knowing who the characters are, where they are in that moment, and without having an idea of what is happening, it can be hard for the audience to connect with the story that is unfolding on the stage. So how do you get round this?

Most improv teachers, schools or actors will advise setting up the ‘who’, the ‘what’ and the ‘where’. Even in the stories we share with each other, we always start with setting the scene: for example, ‘I was on my way to work this morning and as I approached the bus stop, I saw a police car suddenly speed around the corner.’ Without some context building it can be hard for the audience to get into the story.

Improvised storytelling should start simple and take its time drawing in the audience. The audience gives the suggestions for the story, so start simple: as here, the actors are starting this story in a steady space.

If we look at the journey of the hero or protagonist in a story, we see that the story starts in their ordinary: today is a normal day for our hero(es). Now this does not have to be boring. A normal day for a pirate would have a lot of things happening that would not happen for an office worker. If our hero is from a mythical or alien place, we still need to see what ‘ordinary’ life is like on any given day.

We have a focal point here for both actors as they are working with an external point off the stage. It is the agreement between them that is drawing in the audience.

One actor makes a choice to drive the story forwards with a physical offer; at this point the actors should be aware of the audience, and know when to pick up the pace of the story.