The gospel according to improv comedy
If you’ve talked to me in the last several months, you know that improv comedy is almost the only thing I talk about anymore. My bad. I’ll try to rediscover some other topics and interests.
But before I do, a quick blog post about improv.
I signed up for Improv 101 class at a local comedy theater for two reasons: I was inspired by my wife’s return to figure skating after a 30-year hiatus and wanted my own thing, and I needed a reprieve and an escape as my dad’s health was deteriorating rapidly. Now I’m in the middle of Improv 103, a detail I share in order to convey that I have taken 2.5 improv classes and therefore know very little about the craft.
A couple months ago, when I knew even less about improv but was already kind of obsessed with it, I was on an anti-racism Zoom call when a Unitarian Universalist pastor mentioned that she was part of some (okay I forget all the details so I’m going to just string together words) clergy improv-based book club workshop seminar cohort.
The point is, people out there were thinking about interesting overlaps between improv comedy and some combination of church, religion, and faith! I added some of my own thoughts while on that Zoom call, but I’ve forgotten them. So here are my brand new reflections on what improv comedy might offer us as spiritual beings who are building community:
Yes, And. Okay it felt obligatory to mention this since it’s probably the most well-known principle of improv comedy. But still, I think there’s something here. I sense improv can help orient us toward openness and collaboration, and part of that is the practice of accepting what someone else offers and adding your own gift to it. (Gift is actually the term used in improv for an idea or information you give to a scene partner to help them build the scene.)
(Lack of) embarrassment. It’s not like I’m impervious to embarrassment now, but improv has helped me take myself less seriously. In my relatively short stint as an improv student, I have portrayed walking a runway as a model, unboxing a sex toy, attending a men-who-smoke-weed-in-caves support group, and many other surprising and ridiculous scenarios. It’s okay to be silly, to be the butt of a joke, and to just laugh something off and move on.
Paying close attention. One of the most common warm-ups we do at the beginning of class is a game that involves an overwhelming challenge of pattern recognition. The details of the game aren’t relevant, but it requires you to hold multiple patterns in your head and stay laser-focused on what your classmates are doing. This helps in improv scenes, where it is important to notice and develop patterns—and it helps in life, where it is loving to attend to other people’s words, needs, and feelings.
Laughter and belonging. This pretty much speaks for itself, but I think this is why so many people take one improv class and then become blabbering fanatics about it. Because it’s fun! And funny! And laughing together with people is really nice. But more than that, the spirit of the improv community is hospitable, inclusive, and generous. It reminds me of one of our taglines at Harbor: if you want to belong, you belong.
