One of my favorite panels at the Austin Film Festival was last Friday’s ‘How Improv Can Improve Your Writing.’ As I already mentioned, I really like going to jokewriter panels. All screenwriters are good storytellers, but jokewriters are paid to come up with zingers at the drop of a hat, so you’re pretty much guaranteed a good time when you throw a bunch of them together.
Chuck Sklar and Dan French (who have done both standup and sitcom writing) claimed to represent the ‘standup side of the room.’ Amanda Austin runs improv workshops at the Dallas Comedy House, and sat next to Peter Murrieta, another television writer who was apparently ‘pro-improv’ by geographical default. The moderator, Owen Egerton, remained reasonably neutral on the issue, as befitted his Switzerland-like location in the middle of the panelists. So the first thing the panel had to do was decide on a definition of improv.
The real reason Dewey Finn was number one on my list...
Technically, improv is very different from standup (which I’ve already discussed as a teaching method, cf. my list of best onscreen teachers); though good standups obviously have to improvise, they’re not using the rules of traditional improv. As comedians like Eddie Izzard and Lenny Bruce have described it, their improv is more like jazz improv, allowing for riffs but still knowing what they’re going to say before they get onstage, even if they don’t know exactly when they’re going to say it.
I’ve interviewed a few professional improvisers, and it’s true that all the rules can make it sound like a cult of radical acceptance. But as Austin patiently explained, games like ‘Yes, And’ are not actually about saying yes to everything, they’re about ‘acknowledging the idea and adding information to it.’ Which is fair enough, and the panelists agreed to adopt a loose interpretation of improvisation — similar to the Supreme Court agreeing on a loose interpretation of the constitution, but with waaaaay more good-natured ribbing.
When you’re teaching, traditional improv skills can come in handy. You’ve got to acknowledge pretty much any student response, even answers so wrong that you can’t possibly agree with them. In these cases you’ve got to say ‘no’ firmly — making sure not to use a tone that suggests the student has the intelligence of fruitfly — then add some sort of correct information to the contribution. (By the way, parents, here’s a a great way to screw up your kids: find ways to make their incorrect answers ‘right’ so the kiddos have no idea how to deal with being wrong. Teachers just love these students.)
And then there’s the idea of ‘winging it’ in the classroom, as recently covered by NotThatKindOfDoctor — to some, this is a bad thing because it sounds like coming in unprepared, but in reality it’s a time- and sanity-saving measure more like the Bruce/Izzard approach to comedy. For me, this meant jotting down a few salient points/dates I wanted to cover on a yellow pad rather than having the equivalent of an hour-long lecture in my head. This also guaranteed that the class had to make some sort of contribution to the discussion, rather than sitting there lazily sucking away my life force.
To me, it seems really obvious that teaching and improv should go hand in hand. But when I asked Austin if many teachers signed up for her classes, and she said no. I found this surprising, especially as the Dallas Comedy House, like many theaters, does corporate training classes in addition to straight-up improv — why aren’t schools getting in on this?
I think it must come back to people’s reluctance to admit teaching is a performance. Which is really too bad. As Austin noted, ‘life is improv.’ Indeed. When you’re meeting new people, social skills are improv. When students say weird stuff, teaching is improv. And when life throws you a curveball, everything is improv.
So I think it would benefit everybody to admit that teaching is improv. It’s pretty clear that pre-fab lectures are the least pedagogically effective way to deliver information, especially now that the kids can’t even sit still enough to be passive listeners. But the minute you bring audience response into the picture, even if you’re performing for a class of 500 students, you’ve got an improv-type situation.
The other interesting thing I got from the panel was when Peter Murrieta brought up the founding father of modern improv, Del Close, and his ‘Third Choice’. The idea being that the first idea you come up with is going to be clichéd; the second idea will be a reactionary reversal of the cliché; and it’s only when you get outside that box, when you get to the third idea, that you’ve got something interesting.
I like this approach — it works equally well for improv, writing, and life. And speaking of third choices, I have to go now because Dr. $hiraz and I are going to Washington today, to the Stewart/Colbert rallies – the third choice for those of us sick of the current two-party system. Talk about life mirroring improv…
I’ve been saying this for years. Teaching is a stage show. I do 2-3 shows a day about 50% of which is improv. My classrooms get too loud once or twice a day if everything works out. More if they are laughing AND yelling at each other (thank you political science).
Some stuckup profs don’t like me, but their students don’t really like them either. When you’re laughing, you’re listening.
Yeah, what is it with those profs? It’s hard not to roll my eyes when they get all angsty about how prepared they have to be. As you say, the students don’t really seem to appreciate that approach anyway!
I’m pretty terrible at Improv. I should know, I kept trying to figure out how to be funny all through high school, and then I was even brave enough to run Improv Club in college… (Finding a faculty adviser for that was hell, by the way.)
I do know exactly where you’re coming from though, when you say that it’s a time/sanity saving thing to have an idea of important things, without having every word sorted out. I tend to painstakingly write out everything I’m going to say, and then wing it anyway, which seems to work.
Anyway, I spent 4 years at a school which encouraged teachers to have “discussion days” where they were there to guide us, not lecture us. It was likely a lot easier for the teachers, since we called each other on complete bullshit.
That’s great! And one thing a lot of improv people have pointed out is that it doesn’t have to be funny, either. Just look at Christopher Guest’s movies! And yup, discussion days are the only thing that keeps you from going insane…
I’ve never felt more confident in the classroom until I started participating on a faculty improv group that battled the student group each year. So much fun on the stage and in the classroom since!
Love this post!
Dueling improv troupes, that’s an awesome idea. Here’s hoping more schools adopt this approach soon.
Norman Cantor, who was an entertaining lecturer in his own right, a sort of enlightened tummler, once told me that teaching was “low level performance,” to which I would add “like juggling or mummery.”
‘Low level’??? I don’t think so! Juggling is an apt metaphor, except you’re juggling flaming lead waits and trying to explain some complicated theory of social darwinism at the same time!
We have tons of teachers take our improv classes.
Improv is like any other practice – it can teach very useful skills good for teachers and anyone else breathing. Like anything else it takes work.
If your looking for some of the basic ideas check out Pan’s Rules of Improv.
I’m glad to hear that teachers are exploring improv in your city. Maybe it was just Dallas.