Improv comedy and design thinking share one sacred rule: ‘yes and…’ Under this rule, the members belonging to either an improv troupe or design team must build off one another’s ideas, no matter how unusual or challenging. In fact, in both environments, the individual who invents the most unusual idea will reap the greatest reward. Either an innovative product for the designer, or a room full of belly laughs for the comedian (and perhaps drinks squirting out of nostrils).
Much as in visual design, viewers of improv comedy may have an ‘I know it’s good when I see it’ mentality. That is, a good improv comedy show is seamless and hilarious, without there appearing to be much effort or stumbling by the comedians. At its best, it appears like a wildly imaginative, planned sketch, and at its worst it is an awkward or even painful experience for an audience member to sit through. Thinking beyond this kind of assessment requires a thoughtful dissection of a successful show.
On Saturday, August 4th, the Improv Comedy Copenhagen theater put on the show ‘Meanwhile, Back at the Lab and Doctors Orders.’ The show had two main parts. The first part was performed by students enrolled in an improv class at the theater. The second part was performed by the students’ teachers. In simpler terms, the less experienced versus the experienced. Comparing these parts should enable us to reveal the genius behind a seamless performance.
The students’ performance had several scenes all exploring a shared theme about relationships. The first scene was about a woman running a book club. Nobody showed up to the club except for a stalker. (The idea of a stalker, first introduced in this scene, made repeat appearances in later ones). At first, the woman acted predictably. She was visibly creeped out and reluctant to talk to the stalker. The scene became more memorable once they began talking about her love life. She said to the stalker, ‘you know, this is actually the best date I’ve had in awhile.’ Overall, the scene lacked vigor because of how long it took for the woman to support the stalker in his role. Echoing the ‘yes, and…’ rule, it’s best for an improv actor to immediately avoid judging the current situation, instead thinking of what can best follow, or how the current situation can be imaginatively supported.
Besides the repeat occurrence of the stalker, the first improv team also had a running joke about two characters not understanding metaphors. They were unable to save or start romantic relationships because their mates used metaphors to express their feelings that the two characters could not interpret. However, there were a few times these characters actually used metaphors themselves. Each occurrence seemed unintentional, so the contradiction felt like a mistake. One of Tina Fey’s Four Rules of Improv is ‘there are no mistakes, only opportunities.’ After the first use of a metaphor by these characters, the performance would have benefited from a reimagination or pivot, such as the two characters continuing to misuse metaphors in an increasingly absurd way.
Moving on to the teacher’s performance, it was clear that the two actors had incredibly strong communication. There was never a time when I heard or saw two ideas clashing on stage. The main scene of the teacher’s performance was a detective retrieving a suspect’s file from a record facility. The actor playing the detective was incredibly good at supporting the actor playing the man working at the facility. The detective listened carefully to the records man, and continued to ask him questions during quieter moments where a beginner improviser might have felt compelled to introduce their own idea. For example, when the detective was about to go home and meet his wife, the records man had a long monologue about being alone and dissatisfied with life. This lead to the detective asking the man about what fulfills him. He responded by mentioning his dream of acting, and then the characters transitioned to the most amusing scene of the entire night, in which a younger version of the records man auditioned for the musical Cats with his own song and choreography.
The scene could not have happened without the detective using the ‘yes, and…’ rule. Which at its core means that no idea is superior, and the prime responsibility of an improviser is to support his or her fellow actors. With this rule, improvisers travel to the weirdest moments throughout time and space to reveal the hidden and hilarious layers of their characters.
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