Improvisational Theatre Workshop: Lesson 3

“You’re good at playing the weird character. But you don’t have to do that all the time,” Keli suggested.

“I can’t help it,” I responded. The other artists in the workshop laughed.

In the moment, I felt discouraged. I’d always used my strangeness as an advantage. Saying bizarre and sometimes ignorant things usually garnered laughs from the audience. I had become comfortable being an oddball.

But once I gave Keli’s correction some thought, I realized she was absolutely right.

I don’t have to be weird all the time.

I’m learning as I go in this process. And what I’m recognizing is my own tendency to limit myself within the boundaries of certain characters I create. I’ve hidden behind humor in the same way. A scene might be good with some humor and a out-of-this-world lines, but how can I elevate myself beyond the comfort zone of playing the fool?

I have to be myself. And if I don’t know myself, I want to figure myself out. I know for sure that in everyday life I only sometimes play the fool. Sometimes, I play the dumb female jock–physically strong but intellectually incapable of creating something. Sometimes, I play the child–naive and hopeful, sweet and begging for protection. But seldom have I embraced my own true existance as a real woman, a real human being for that matter. I’ve been playing from my head and not my heart.

What on earth will happen if I come to the performance from a place of love and compassion? Of humility? Of a need to be forgiven? Of stress and chaos of adulthood? Of the reality of feeling like I have such unanswered potential? What if I bring my need for validation as a human being and not as an actor?

These are the questions I want to explore. Later this week, I’m going to be auditioning for a spot in another improv troupe in town. And honestly, forget the audition–I just want to play. And I want to play better than I ever have before. Best case scenario, I get a spot. Worst case scenario, I’ll make a few new friends. Sounds like another win/win to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Improvisational Theatre Workshop: Lesson 2

Our job as artists is to make the audience feel.

Having my strength in comedy improv performance, I feel most comfortable defaulting to humor. At times, I’ve even gotten a sense of pride from my ability to come up with great one-liners in a split second. But Keli was quick to remind us that there is something deeper than comedy to each and every scene, and we ought not use humor as a crutch just because it’s easy to do or just because we love to make people laugh.

During an improv scene, when I’m paying close attention, there is the moment right before I make a choice in what I am about to say. And it’s true–I can go ahead and say the funny thing, or I can hold on another brief moment and uncover a deeper meaning that often tends more toward the profound. It’s a type of letting go that is really fascinating once you are aware of it happening.

Keli also pointed out that though it’s great to make people laugh, it’s our job onstage to move people–and moving people can mean bringing them to laughter, tears, disgust…

Moving people can also mean making someone so uncomfortable she feels the need to leave! Success! (Or, was my performance so bad that she couldn’t take it anymore? Still success! I moved her! I did my job!)

This lesson in getting to the point of our job as performers and artists helps us to break through our comfort and into uncharted territory, where the best art is made. Here, we triumph over the fear that keeps us predictable and confined in our options.

So, rock on and express yourself as an artist–but show the audience you are as boundless in your forms of expression as they are. Don’t just take the easy way out because you’re good at a particular skill. Keep that skill in your back pocket and use it when it burns not to, but remember there is more to you than that.

There is so much more to you than that.