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Improv Nonsense: Trying To Win The Scene

Improv Nonsense: Trying To Win The Scene

Another angle on give and take from Will Hines. Will is focusing on the tone of offers, and how playing by the letter of ‘yes, and’ can belie the attitude underneath: protect my character at any cost.

improvnonsense:

Saw this in a class:

A: So you hated the dog I bought for you.

B: Yeah, well I already had 4 cats. The dog is going to murder those things. You buy me the worst gifts. You always buy me gifts that just don’t fit.

A: (side coached to say why he bought a dog as a gift) I got you it because I…

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Post-apocalypse [g+ backpost]

No apocalypse! But I enjoyed my apocalypse themed week, which was spent:

  • unRetreating with a set of devotional meditations aimed at aspects of the divine mystery (Deep Humanism stuff, solid)
  • taking Chinese herbs to revitalise the yang for the new 5th age (ancient herbalism, grim)
  • lucid dreaming the biggest discovery of 2013 by taking cognitive enhancers and setting a magical intent pre-bedtime (Yuschak/Barford method, ambiguous)
  • playing Monster of the Week with an apocalypse about to be triggered down the road in Aberystwyth (Sands, Powered by the Apocalypse, see link if interested)

And also watching films (Looper, John Carter Ted), drinking whiskey, walking on the beach and having my face licked by an enthusiastic dog, which aren’t apocalyptic per se. But fun.

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Game report: Monster of the Week [g+ backpost]

I played Monster of the Week! It was super fun. A bunch of us have been hanging at the house of some friends in Wales, bedding in for the end of the world with some meditation, movies and munchies. We made characters one nights, and then played out the  mystery over the next two. I’m the only regular gamer, and three of the four others had never played before. It was nice to see how easily people got to grips with it. Some poor rolls at the beginning put the game in a bit of a slapstick mode, and we discussed after how the failure rate for the game felt a little high, with futzed magic rolls leading to mess, explosions and helplessness in scene after scene. I do recognise that I could have pushed the use of luck, which was deployed more later in the game; this happened to give a nice failure-to-success arc that made the last session feel gratifying.

As the Keeper, I felt the game looked after me really well. Mystery advice was generally useful, although I think I was making things hard for myself for trying to pull all the character backstory (which really emerged in early play) and feed it into the mystery, as I knew this was likely to be a one-shot and wanted to maximise the pay-offs.

My only area I struggled on was magic. My sense from the rules was that there is no division of playbooks into magic-users and non-magic users, and so in play all but one player elected to Use Magic during the game, generally in high-stakes fight-or-flight situations.  At times the use of magic felt like a get-out-of-jail free card, pulling off tricks that were otherwise impossible to do. I knew that I could counter that by upping the criteria involved in the magic, but that tended to feel arbitrary, a form of stomping on the player’s ideas. Yeah, the Expert can dispel the magic that is holding everyone in the air as the police are converging on the room… but it will take several minutes / a rare ingredient to do so. So I generally just acceded to the requests. Demanding an ingredient (sacrificing something alive) at one point led to a flubbed preparedness role by the Expert that nearly killed the momentum of the climactic sequence. In the end it became incredibly cool when the player decided to amputate their finger and get rid of that, but there was a cold moment where no-one wanted to let go of the idea  but felt stuck on how to execute it.

The team bested an attempt to reincarnate Y Mab Darogan, the Red Hand of Wales, a saviour predicted to crush the Anglo Saxons, manifested as, yes, a giant red hand. It was a fun finish in the Welsh Millenium Dome, the Spooky tk’ing cables to power up a speaker rig that the Flake ported ‘God Save the Queen’ through to paralyse the Red Hand with its former defeats ‘rung by the horns of the Saxons’, the Expert opening up a dimensional gate for the Summoned to fling it through, with the fallout of trapping forever the Expert’s enlimbo’d lover from her swinging 60’s dark past. The highlight of the game for me was an earlier attempt by the Summoned to cast big magic to find the lair of the Boggart minions, which I stipulated required a boggart skull to do so. The Summoned bulldozes through police lines to the location of their Boggart fight, to snatch a skull and run…. only at that point we all remember how that player beat me into agreement that his final blow in that fight ‘made the monster’s head explode clean off’. Cut back to Summoned laying down defensive fire while scrabbling for pieces of skull fragment embedded in the floor and walls…

Dec 2012

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Give and take: character success in improvisation

I had a fun chat on Google Plus last month with a few gamers about different approaches to managing successes and failures in the fiction. The conversation was originally framed around roleplaying games but I was invited in to talk about improvisation. How do we mediate ‘giving and taking’: who gains advantage or disadvantage in a situation or narrative? Glancing back over it it seemed worth sharing, with a bit of tidy-up. Here you go.

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Although improvisation and gaming have fundamentally different agendas – in brief, the distinction between playing just for the experience vs with the aim of including an audience – ‘give and take’ is relevant to both. For now let’s just look at this in terms of character success; obviously there are other even more crucial things to give and take, like focus, space to develop ideas, spotlighting and endowing one character or another.

The clearest example of ‘refusing to give’ is when performers are unwilling to get their character in trouble. I saw some clear instances of that at an improv show recently, the defensive instinct where unconsciously we see risk to the character as risk to yourself. None of us are totally immune. In every style of improvisation it’s vital to get past that, but the ways in which we give and take are going to differ from style to style.

In narrative-focused play, the ratio of give to take may depend very much on the role your character plays in the narrative – we are probably enjoying seeing the ‘big bad’ be successful and fearsome earlier in the story, but later their invulnerability is likely to be up for grabs. A stand-alone scene with a high-status character may have them ruling the roost for two minutes and then we want to see them toppled.

In game-style play (associated most strongly now with the UCB) it’s possible for the give and take to become hardwired into the scene. Once an action has been determined to have consequences, it will continue to do so rather than fizzling out because that is the pattern of play thus defined. Example from one of our rehearsals: the loafing paleontology grad student will continue to find fossils wherever he sticks his shovel, to the disbelief of his professor, whose string of certificates have never resulted in a successful find….because that is the pattern we are exploring in this scene. When grad student gives – “Oh… nothing here!” – then we have jumped tracks into a different style of play (no bad thing, but doesn’t negate the point).

In more Chicago-style slice-of-life play, my sense is that give and take (in terms of character success) is driven much more by the implications for relationships. In fact, the give and take is the relationship. Example from a recent Alex and Julia show:

J “I feel our sex life was more exciting at the beginning." 

Me "But it was awkward! Now we’ve settled into a groove. You have sex, you come. It’s nice!" 

J "Exactly. Nice. Which isn’t the total of what sex can be.”

The last point is weighty, so I let it land instead of quibbling. You could see that as a form of success. We allow this established fact to have significance and move forward, ok so our sex is nice but that’s not enough for her. What does that say about her, and what does that mean about our relationship? So it’s a success with consequences, that we then explore (I start to see her as a specimen collector of sexual experiences).

Outside of the relationship, other successes/failures aren’t trivial (do I command my environment or am I frustrated by every bottle I try and open?) as these serve to ground the situation in detail and give life to the characters. But the ones that serve the relationship dynamic are key, and at this stage in my development I can’t see any rules of thumb around them: every choice to give or take moves the relationship into new territory that can be richly explored if you are honest and true to the characters and the established situation.

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I know it feels like we’re on a drum roll…. I’m so sorry.

What can I say, I love drummers. Always fascinated by the complexity of what they do, generally in service to the wider sound. Core to the rhythm section, unarmed with melody, giving shape to the piece. I’ve seen David King play three or four times and not only is he incredible, the simple joy emanating from him behind the kit is inspiring. He’s a child given the one toy he is after, and like any child he doesn’t play with it as you are supposed to: I’ve seen him caress the skins with a football rattle, explore every edge of the drum carriages, drawn by intuition into any contact that moves him.

He’s playing, pure and simple.

(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
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While we’re on video, this is the most awesome thing.

That guy, what he’s feeling? We’ve got that inside of each and every one of us. The trick is to find out how we can let it out.

Oh, this was via @robgrundel

(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
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Funny thing about having improvisation on video. In many ways it’s totally inadequate. But it’s still a tool that can be incredibly valuable for evaluation and a reminder of what you want out of the form.

Here’s a case in point. It’s several years old – considerably older than the 2010 upload dates – but it’s always been a fond scene for me. I’d suggest watching it and then hear my post-mortem…

OK, scalpel out.

First, it begins from nothing. We’re just looking at each other, mirroring a slight contortion in each others’ faces, and James gives me an arbitrary action as an offer. I like this – it’s one of my favorite things about improvisation when rolling well.

Second, I say what I see. The contorted faces and the rhythmic movement spur the words “Physical therapy” from me. This is not a light choice – it’s harder to hear on video, but I remember an intake of breath at that point, at the prospect that we’re going to do a scene about stroke or palsy rehabilitation. I like this too.

Third, we don’t go there. I fix it, by putting this in the context of a revision of many types of therapy. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I believe strongly that improvisers do ultimately have a responsibility for what they put out there on stage. I don’t believe it’s ok to perform a scene that displays and reinforces prejudice, and then shrug and hold ‘spontaneity’ as your excuse. On the other hand, you can find pathos and indeed comedy in a scene about rehabilitation; there would have to be a lot justified (who are we to each other, why are we standing up and both looking so bemused) but there could be richness in it. Granted, I’d been performing outside of classes for just a few months at this point, but if I came up against this choice now I hope I would go with it.

Fourth, we find some differentiation, mainly in status. James plays naive fool (in his peerless way) and I play a bit more upwardly mobile, a little straighter. I like this, it’s not obligatory but it adds texture to the scene.

Fifth, we find some physical patterns that we can return to. Thinking about this, the physicality is inspired from the initiation of the scene, the somewhat gormless postures and arbitrary movement. Our failed high-fives, our confusion about the seating, and the general tentative body responses when tested. It’s not really ‘game of the scene’ stuff because it’s not quite specific enough, but it is a sensibility that infuses the scene and I quite like it.

Sixth, we have a game of naming therapies. I ID it and then James plays it exquisitely. One interesting feature of this scene, and the kind of thing I like to puzzle over after the fact: some would say the game is enough, and that additional content just dilutes the essence of the scene. I’m not sure I agree (see below) but I can definitely see occasions in this video where the game pattern could be played with even more, and is ignored in the aim of ‘pressing on’ in some way. As I say, James is bang on it, he has a great intuition for this stuff.

Seventh, we create some story around the situation. The therapy game is placed in a fuller context, there are stakes, character aspirations. I’m pretty happy with this, I feel it gives a bit of a richness, opens up and specifies the scene a bit more and gives us other dimensions to play with. However, it risks hitting Exposition Mode, and is not as effortlessly playful as the first part of the scene. Could we have just stuck with the games? Maybe. I’ll stick to my guns and say that elaboration of character and relationship – even when you have a game going – is often a useful way to go. Which is not to say it can’t be done more smoothly than in this case.

Eighth, we have a potential status reversal in a callback to aromatherapy (that Dewi correctly intuits is a wonderful offer). This is interesting. I’ve been leaning over James in status at points, particularly when it came to his inability to name that particular therapy. So in principle, my forgetting it is a chance to find the ‘point’ of the scene, maybe see his character blossom, and mine learn some humility. But it didn’t quite go that way, and I think part of it is that I’d not kept enough of that status separation: in the joy of returning to those comedic patterns such as stumbling physicalities, I think the two characters joined to enough of a degree that it just felt better to keep going with it.

So keep looking for something from nothing, be provoked by your partner, notice patterns and extend them. Find what makes your character, be prepared to change. My big two takeaways from reviewing this are firstly, to hold on to my character’s shit a little more. And secondly, to be aware of when I am looking to shape or fix the scene rather than being swept up within it – see 3, 6/7. It’s not a perennial sin but it’s something I do notice, and it’s less fun than Being There. Most of all, I shouldn’t be seeing it as my responsibility alone. Direction will emerge between me and my scene partners, after all.

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street conflict. [g+ backpost]

I just wrote a witness statement for something that happened tonight, and remembering in the mists of time on other forums (eg IWKFAM) some people sharing this kind of stuff for general usage, thought I’d post it on to people. I probably don’t want this shared but if there is anything usable in it for any reason do ask. Also, I’m interested in any advice from people on other things that could be done in that situation to minimise risk and harm. I’m fairly happy with how I handled it, but it’s always good to be better equipped.

“I’m walking on left hand side of the road. Nearing the estate I hear a female voice saying ‘get the fuck out of my car’.

I glance over and get the sense of a door opening – I think the back door facing me (car in drive facing towards  road X, making that the back right). I look away and back and this time the woman is out the car grappling with the man, who pushes her to the floor with him on top and begins punching her around the head area (possibly landing to the shoulders/neck, but certainly focusing on that upper area).

I begin running over and scream get off of her several times, passing the car (I think on its left flank, eg passing to the right) to be behind him. I continue screaming and engage by wrapping my arms around his upper body and restricting his movement. I am looking around and there are two men on the far side of the street (where I began) who I try to alert with helps, and another man on the near side whose attention is gained more quickly and begins to approach, but slowly.

They separate a little, and he spins around and I back well away, hands placatory and saying sorry, sorry, and he turns back to her and begins engaging again at which point I take the same position. I am struck several times – possibly some the first round – certainly from her kicks, directed in our general direction. I am unsure whether he strikes me substantially. He is wheeling his hands against me and my head is struck at one point.

The individual man has gotten within reaching distance but is not engaging, and the two men are finally approaching, although with no obvious desire to get close. Eventually the two separate, and he is focused on me again. He shouts something and seems to change target so I scream I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just don’t want anyone to be hurt, over and over. He seems unsure and meanwhile she enterst the car and closes the door and it begins to move. he approaches the door but she is on her way now, so he turns back again [from this point my sense is the car leaves the scene entirely but I can’t be sure, as my focus is on the threat] and shouts ‘who grabbed me?’ at which point all the bystanders back off. My route out is cut off by his position, so I take a few steps and then vault the low fence and run down [my] road at full speed until my lungs hurt too much, and see that I am not pursued. I keep moving, walking the running, until I reach home. “

The take-aways for me were to alternate between action when it was needed – when he was trying to harm her – and extreme submission cues to reduce the risk of escalating the situation and bringing harm to myself. It seemed to work ok. It helped though that he was pretty off his face.

Shins are sore but my lungs have calmed down, and a few hours have passed and no shock symptoms. I pretty much ran on adrenaline throughout, which was handy. I’m running a bath now! 

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Playing with your voice

Julia has been back in London, and we managed to cram together a string of shows, from awkward to joyous. We learned a lot.

Firstly, a reminder that improvisation is all about connection. As well as raw time spent together, we managed to fit in two rounds of contact improvisation and pulled some solid rehearsals, which began after the first two (awkward) shows and took us to a good place together, with better performances as a consequence

One of those later, fun shows was a duo set at Hoopla’s crash pad, where we performed Postcards from the Edge, something we tried in Marburg and inspired by Moon’s Pocket, a show we watched on our arrival to the Würzburg festival. The form is sitting really well with us now, and I’m hungry to get back to it. My learning from that show was if you honestly talk about sex it is the best kind of funny.

The other two shows we trio’d, the first with Ed Bennett in a family gathering form we’ve toyed with before and the other with Brandon again, a montage begun with a painting of a two-dimensional picture at stage front. The former was simply wild fun, with the three of us in hysterics after finishing the show, the second had some magical moments, from slow discoveries to gentle monologues to steamrollering our scene partner (yes I did but it’s ok).

My learning from those is just how important voice is for me to get out of my head and be active. In the family gathering opening scene, when I opened my mouth I made an arbitrary choice to sound Russian. Now, I’m not good at accents. I want to be better, am even doing accent classes, but I know it’s not a strength. And my Russian simply wasn’t good enough to be pleasing as an offer in itself: I could feel it from the audience after a few lines, an almost disappointment ‘oh. It’s an accent but not really, and not in of itself funny’. And I could feel the pressure to drop it, to accept that I’m not delivering something useful there, but stuck with it.

One thing to note is that as the character became more familiar across the show and his turns of phrase became reused, then something that wasn’t funny became funny-ish and then plain fun. Stick with your details and give your audience the gift of familiarity. But my main point is what the voice did for me. It took me out of my head. How?

Firstly, a booming, clipped and jolly diction is simply distinct from myself naturally. When I use my natural voice, the voice that I buy chips with and talk to customer service reps with and probably have anxious thoughts about improvisation with, I’m holding my own identity close. A different voice doesn’t so readily cue those memories, and once the character has started rolling the voice will cue character memories, which are far more useful. As a case in point, my Russian had at least three games running (talking about life on a Gym Ship, finding wisdom in Dumpling-making, and preferring to examine people indirectly through a mirror) and I never felt myself trying to remember any of them, they just kept returning.

Secondly, the voice was strong and diaphragmatic. I’ve done Trance Mask work for coming up to four years now, and it’s clear there that the state of effortless trance that the masks allow you to discover is accessed in part through bodily vibrations from the sound that each mask possesses. In a sense, simply speaking louder gets you some of the way there – which is what I discovered in the steamroller scene I played with Brandon, and is akin to Christian’s scene mentioned elsetumblr. Even more fundamentally, the quieter you are the more inward you are retreating, and the louder the more you approach and mix yourself with the outside world.

A final caveat to myself. Julia reminded me afterwards that techniques such as voice, physicality and stream of consciousness (which we rehearsed heavily to great benefit – do it if you can!) were just one approach to staying out of your head, with another being to simply be present and not want anything, just let it come. I know that’s true – we had found that on stage the day before – but I can easily find myself worrying that I’m not giving enough to my partner, or indeed the audience, if I’m not bringing at least a specific energy to the stage, if not a more explicit offer. Devolution into ‘you-first’ improv, essentially, the crime of the polite English. The fact that I’m resisting this evident second wisdom as being so useful to me makes it certain that I need to approach it more, and be, shall we say, present in active emptiness.

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To Marburg, to play.

On the back of the Würzburg festival, Fast Forward Theatre generously invited Julia and I to join their stage in Marburg. FFT’s Martin and Christian run a show in an endearing, wood-stove heated box room, playing with different formats week on week. Julia and I took 25 minutes in the first half to do a twoprov that kicked off with something between an organic opening and Matthieu Loos/Marko Mayerl’s matter-working image approach: intuitively finding a physicality/action onstage and allowing your observing partner to name and make sense of it. We then moved into a series of scenes. It was interesting and I think a nice gentle start to the night, but there are definitely things we are learning about playing together: we have a tendency to slide into realism very quickly and although this can be refreshing sometimes the playfulness can be sidelined, in spite of how much we enjoy it. We chewed this over the next day pretty comprehensively; one of the things I love about working with Julia is that we can love the work but also talk about it objectively and robustly.

We checked in on the crowd at the top of the show as to whether some English in the show would be ok, and although they gave no objections, we were all aware that it was an indulgence that shouldn’t be taken too far. Accordingly, the rest of the show was entirely non-English language. The native speakers ran a fun narrative set together, and in the second half we did a series of short-form games. Given that prior to August my German language was pretty much limited to wunderkind, kartopfelkopf and danke, and is only dimly beyond that now, this was a fun first for me. As I suspected, the restrictions perversely freed me up, urging me to bigger characters, more physicality and strong, raw emotions. It was a ton of fun and seemed to delight the audience, proving the Johnstonian maxim that impro audiences are happy paying money to see people screw up good naturedly on-stage.

Links:

Würzburg fest

Fast Forward Theatre

Matthieu and Marko, whose Moon’s Pocket is a lovely show you should catch when you can, as they now live in different cities (and also in France).