The human brain is absolutely incredible. It is composed of billions of neurons that
combine with one another to create an estimated quadrillion connections all of
which systematically and efficiently store information. This varies from super important information
like how to breathe to pretty useless crap like what was Kim Kardashian wore to
the MTV Movie Awards. In short our
brains are awesome.
But in improvisation, our brains often work against us.
Sometimes our brains are too awesome.
Let me preface this article by saying I am no scientist, by
any means. I am an improviser and as
such, kind of a nerd. That sums up my
scientific credentials. But I have made a few observations over the last decade while improvising.
What I’ve noticed is that our brains love patterns. Information that is connected is easier to
remember. In our day to day life this is extremely important. Identifying and remembering patterns
literally help keep us alive. The first time we touch boiling water as a child
we have no idea what happened. We
understand the pain and react accordingly but have no idea why our hand is
burning. The second time this happens
our brains can form a pattern connecting the hot water to pain. Then, the next time we see a pot of boiling
water our brains instinctively inform us not to touch it.
When we study we use patterns to help us remember important
information. Acronyms are a common way
information is organised into patterns for easy access later on. Does anyone remember what BEDMAS or PEDMAS
stands for? Chances are many of you do, even though you may have learned that
acronym years and years ago.
Patterns allow us to access information that we have already
taken in, synthesized and formed conclusions about. They inform our actions each and every day. They
save us time. They dictate how we feel about people and ideas. They keep us safe, which is the opposite of
what we want to do onstage when we improvise.
Improvisation requires performers to leave preconceived
notions backstage. We need to be open onstage, completely. We need to be open
to new ideas, situations and solutions. We need to be in that state of mind
that exists before we’ve formed the patterns that keep us safe. It’s a state of childlike wonder. Anything can happen. We leap first and worry about the impact once
we are in mid-air. We must put ourselves at extreme imagined risk without
giving a thought to the consequences. Just
like a child touching boiling water for the first time.
When accomplished properly this feeling is exhilarating
onstage. It’s like playing a massive
trust game with your scene partner and the entire audience. It feels like you are falling backwards, eyes
closed, knowing that someone will catch you for the entire scene. It’s one of my favorite parts of
performing. It’s that wonderful
sensation of truly not knowing what’s going to happen next. It’s why audiences come to improv.
However, like everything in improvisation it’s much easier
said than done. How is it possible to let go of a lifetime of patterns that
inform every decision you make? Well, there are a few schools of thought on
this.
In the early days of
improvisation in Calgary, according to Rick Hilton, my good friend and improv
mentor, Keith Johnstone would have actors count in their heads throughout a
scene. Or he might have had them doing a
repetitive physical task during the scene that did not connect to what was
happening onstage. The idea was to
overload the brain so that it couldn’t function normally and preconceive the
content of the scene. I’ve done this
exercise and it is extremely challenging.
It does work. However I’ve also
noticed that the scenes that emerge while not planned are often lacking in
story, character transformations and most things that generally constitute
great improvisation.
This idea of confusing the brain is what actually generated
most of the improv games we’ve come to know and love. The games were initially created as a
rehearsal tool to give the brain a task so that narrative could flow out of the
subconscious uninhibited. In Missing
Letter for example, the conscious brain is occupied with not saying the
letter “R” in any of the words while the subconscious brain has to fill in the
gaps. In Character Switch the conscious brain is concerned with listening to
a bell and accurately switching into a character that your scene partner
created while the subconscious brain is telling the story. As it turns out many are wonderful to watch
and are now performed all around the world. No longer are they just a rehearsal
tool. The audience gets to enjoy both the skill of the conscious brain and the
spontaneous storytelling of the subconscious brain.
So how do we apply this to open scene work? Should we try
and confuse our conscious brains as in short form games? I would argue no. I like to have all my mental faculties
available when performing a scene both conscious and unconscious. It’s not the
confusion that we’re after anyway, it’s the effect the confusion has on the
subconscious. It prevents us from planning based on patterns from our lives.
It’s extremely difficult to not do something. The classic example – don’t think about a
pink elephant. So I’m not going to advise you simply not to plan. What I do, and what I encourage others to do
is to actively cultivate a sense of discovery onstage. That’s the state we exist in before we form
patterns. Notice something about your
scene partner, or the room that you have never noticed before. Listen closely
to the way they speak their words. What
are their hands doing? How is their hair falling tonight? Curiosity may have
killed the cat but it makes the improviser. Open up your eyes wide, open up
your body physically and discover the scene. Discover a game with your partner.
Play with them, like kids do. Create a
brand new pattern onstage for the very first time. Confusing
the brain is well, confusing. But engaging the conscious brain in discovery is
freeing.
Warm up games can be a big help. Keith Johnstone’s Misnaming Objects and Alan Marriot’s Endless Box are two of my favourite games to induce this state of
mind. If you want to know how to play
them leave a comment and I can explain further.
But ultimately it’s all about discovery. So get onstage and stick your hand in a pot
of boiling water. Consequences are of no import to the improviser. When no
patterns apply, what you discover will even surprise you.
