Improv Obsession

Someone who is honest about why they’re doing improv. I hate it, but at least they’re upfront. 

Favorite quotes:

“I also sincerely hope that my stint on a Harold Team will be brief owing to the fact that Allison Jones comes to UCB one night, discovers me, introduces me to Judd Apatow allowing me to one day wax poetic with James Lipton about my brief but ever so imprortant time as an improv artist.”

“I’m not playing with my career and I only take classes from a major higher echelon organizations.”

“Once you get a few classes under your belt and you understand the game of improv.”

“Per the request of former UCB classmates and friends I joined an improv group. And then, 3 days later I had my first improv show.”

“‘Will I do it again?’ you may ask… I am comfortable tipping the scale at Yes”

theotherlagirl:

Improv out in LA is much like improv in many big entrainment hubs. 

There are the major groups that teach classes. Typically the teachers are funny people you see peppered throughout primetime and late night comedies. 

There are the unknown groups that teach classes. Which I don’t know a lot about because I’m not playing with my career and I only take classes from a major higher echelon organizations. 

Once you get a few classes under your belt and you understand the game of improv you may choose to do nothing with this information, or form a group and preform around town. 

For the past 2 years I’ve s-l-o-w-l-y matriculated through 3 levels of classes at UCB. I had fun, but I didn’t go to the school because I wanted to be the next big improv star. Rather, on breakdowns I kept seeing “improv training a must” and “please list improv group” and as much as I’d like the one college course I took that mentioned Del Close near the end of the semester and the 3 weeks I joined a fledging improv group my junior year, I knew in my heart it wouldn’t impress many casting directors. 

And so - last week, per the request of former UCB classmates and friends I joined an improv group. And then, 3 days later I had my first improv show (that was in no way affiliated with my class performance.) 

“How did it go?” you may ask. I can honestly say on a scale from Gallagher to Radner I was comfortable not that close to Gallagher.

Don’t look directly in his eyes. It’s where comedy goes to die. 

According to friends I did initiate a few fun games and some laughs that were no way related to the way I looked or smelled. Which to me is a bonus.

“Will I do it again?” you may ask. I can honestly say on a scale from No to Yes I am comfortable tipping the scale at Yes. 

My sincere hope is one day I will both have the guts and the chops to audition for an official Harold Team. I also sincerely hope that my stint on a Harold Team will be brief owing to the fact that Allison Jones comes to UCB one night, discovers me, introduces me to Judd Apatow allowing me to one day wax poetic with James Lipton about my brief but ever so imprortant time as an improv artist.

I talked to Fernie about this article I wrote in my recent recording with him. Thought it might be relevant to share again. Revisions and new thoughts in italics.

Your coach/teacher is an amazing improvisor. Be an amazing improvisor just like them. Don’t improvise like them.

 I recently (long time ago) had a truncated version of this conversation with a teammate. It followed a session where we spent a lot of time talk about what our coach would have done in a scene and in an entire harold. He told us what he would have done, and it would have been great scene work and a great harold, no doubt. Having said that, I don’t think I care what he would have done. Ok, so I care a little. But, I was writing this to make a point.

An improvisor is an individual. Your life experience informs your openings, your scene work, your object work, and just about everything you do on an improv stage. The reason I don’t care what my coach would have done is that I can NEVER do the scenes that he would do. My life experience is different than his or any other improviser’s and while his informs good scene work, my life experience should inform my own good scene work. 

A coach should note choices, acting decisions, object work, staging, and whole bunch more stuff. Saying that he would have done a military scene based on his time in ROTC is not a valuable note. Maybe that’s a good choice for him. I know nothing about ROTC, I don’t even know what it stands for. So telling me he would have done that makes me feel less valuable as an improviser for my choice. If in the future I find myself in a similar situation, and I try to make the same choice my coach would and do an ROTC scene, there’s a good chance I’m gonna fall flat on my face because I seriously don’t know what ROTC stands for (I’ll Google it later I did not do this).

That whole paragraph is confusing. Let’s put it this way, getting noted that you made the wrong decision is not as helpful as it is to learn WHY that decision was not effective. On top of that, the odds of you finding yourself in the exact same situation where you can make one choice over another is extremely low. It’s the difference between knowing the answer to 4x3 is 12 and knowing how to multiply.

In my early improv life I found myself wishing I could do scenes just like some of my favorite improvisors. I even tried to steer some scenes in the direction of things that I had seen work, and it always failed. Now I find myself admiring their acting, their tags, their object work. Now I try to make MY move with better acting, tagging, and object work.

I love my coaches and teachers, and they make great choices based on their life experience. Becoming a great improvisor is about using your life, and making great choices from that. If the suggestion Shoe Box wouldn’t prompt you to do a scene about loving The Barenaked Ladies (yes, I would do that) because you don’t know who they are, then more power to you, what choice would you have done? Great, that’s perfect. Now, ask your brilliant coach how to make that choice better.

I guess at the end of the day I’m saying be yourself. Don’t let people tell you that the specifics of you are wrong. Don’t try and become someone else. Somewhere deep inside of me I believe everyone is funny. All good comedy comes from honing what makes you funny, and using it to the best of your ability.

Disagree? Think I’m a genius? Know what ROTC means? Leave me a comment, and we’ll figure it out.

As it is, I’m just complaining about a bad coach in this article. However, the large point behind this is to discover your comedic voice. Alright. Go do that now.

Original here:

improvobsession:

Your coach/teacher is an amazing improvisor. Be an amazing improvisor just like them. Don’t improvise like them.

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(via perlstein)

It’s probably solid advice… but I’m not good at being nice. Instead I reblog people.

downrightupright:

The best improv advice I ever received was around the time I was taking 201. It wasn’t from an improviser. It was from my former boss at Myspace, Manu Rekhi, who was mentoring me on my career and life in general.

He said, “If someone asks you for a favor, do it. If it’s at all possible, do it.” His point was that when you’re a good person, people respond to that. People will treat you better and you surround yourself with a higher quality of person without any effort at all. This makes you happier, more fulfilled and closer to succeeding at just about anything in life. Because you build a kind of karma and you foster a community.

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downrightupright:

(Part Three of the Matt Besser interview. Check out Part 1 and Part 2.)

This is it. Part 3 of my interview with Matt Besser (Asssscat!, Improv4Humans podcast, Freak Dance), in which we talk about what to do when a scene’s not going right, monoscenes, Harolds, and shit gets personal. Let’s hop right into it, because this is the longest and best part yet.

Sean London: You said something in your interview with Stephen Perlstein about not needing the audience to find the game.

Matt Besser: I think that’s a silly definition. Otherwise, you couldn’t find it in rehearsal. It’s a good clue to where the game is for sure.

SL: Let’s say I’m in a scene and I’m hitting the game and I’m doing what I believe to be technically good improv. But I’m not getting laughs from the audience. As an improviser, what are you thinking? Do you stay on game, or do you think “The audience isn’t getting this. I got to mix this up.”? How much does the audience affect what you’re doing?

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