Finally, the last rehearsal...
Sep. 7th, 2008 04:52 pmThe last rehearsal for our graduation show was today. Now we just have to get the actual shows over with. I'm very much in the "grit my teeth and get it over with" stage of things. Part of it is that I wish we were doing a more ambitious show. However, that's probably a really bad idea. For most of us, our only improv experience is approximately a year's worth of class time. At least half of us had absolutely no acting experience before this. Plus, the graduation show is supposed to be a happy event. While improv is supposed to be all about taking risks and pushing ourselves, I can totally see why we're doing a very safe, easy to pull off format. (Also, there's nothing to say we can't take risks and push ourselves within this format. In fact, we ought to be...)
Perhaps it was because this was the last rehearsal, but a riff that recurred through this entire quarter finally paid off today. One student, A, very clearly wants rules and to follow them to the exclusion of everything else. If a scene doesn't work, then he wants a rule that he can apply that makes the scene work. As far as he's concerned, learning improv is the mere collection of all of these rules. Good improv is work which does not break any of these rules.
BTW, by rules, I mean rules. Not guidelines. Not suggestions. Cast in concrete, no room for exception or deviation rules. Everything must go precisely as the rules dictate. For A, it's really not about doing anything right. It's all about not doing anything wrong. This is the guy who, whenever we do an exercise, asks all sorts of very specific detailed questions about exactly what we're supposed to do. He's not trying to game the exercise. He's just trying to do nothing wrong.
If that's the way he wants to work, I'm not so bothered by it. I think it's preventing himself from sublime heights of inspiration. The inevitable outcome of this is that we get the same scenes over and over again. If you only have one way of telling a story, you have only one story. However, it's not like I will ever convince A of that. What bothers me, is when he tries to impose his rules on everyone else.
We all know and understand the principle that not only do we accept a scene partner's offer, but extend it, bringing in our own information into the scene. The student in question had a detailed proposal which specified on which line of each scene, the type of information the characters in the scene must impart. To be fair, he got this from a training exercise from the weekly open practices the studio conducts. Also, if you follow this schema, the scene will have, in fact, started with a solid base of information. However, he was proposing this as how we should do all of our scenes. On an assembly line, predictability and repeated sameness is a good thing. In an improv show, not so much.
Anyway, what typically happens when he does this is that our coach points out that rules are a crutch. What's important is that we work the skill implied by the rules. For example, in this case, we need to remember not only to react to a scene partner's offer, but bring in information of our own. (Actually, the meta-rule is probably that we need to do something to propel the scene forward.) His rule is one way of many to do that, and it's good to practice that one way. But it's good to practice all the other ways too and to allow yourself that freedom.
What happened this time is that another student, B, pointed out the pattern. (Talk about playing to the top of your intelligence!) He pointed out that A apparently really likes rules and order and is constantly proposing them, and that what would follow next would be our coach explaining why those rules are, in the long run, not useful. Because I wish I'd done that, I chimed in agreeing with him. (Heightening his offer.)
A didn't acknowledge this. (I'd like to think that if he were able to recognize the pattern, he would have broken it.) However, the coach did, in classic improv fashion. i.e., a general principle of improv is that no one is ever wrong, and nothing you do on stage is ever a mistake. This is in part because if you spent all your time trying to do things right, you'll be so paralyzed that you won't do a thing. Improv coaches tend to speak in terms of stronger and weaker choices. (To mentally map them to "right" and "wrong" is to destroy the nuance that leads to the really awesome work.)
What the coach did, then, was not say that A was wrong. He affirmed the value of what A suggested as a training exercise, but then pointed out we shouldn't be limited to just a training exercise. That is, he said what he always said, but stressing that A wasn't wrong, just that there are a wide variety of other things we could also do. No one is wrong.
Given that we've gone on this merry-go-round several times now and we're still not off of it, I doubt that this has sunk into A yet. Or at least he did nothing to make me thing that it has sunk in. That's really too bad. It'd be a serious breakthrough for him if it had. However, I think creating a cage out of rules is ingrained into who he is. (i.e., he really wants the cage.)
I noticed a few rehearsals back that the notes the coach gives us about our improv correlate with we are. The calm, mild mannered person is also the one whose improv is too middle of the road and risk averse. The wishy washy person is also the one who doesn't commit to choices. (Today, we had an interesting meta-problem when she couldn't commit to committing.) For the record, my note is that while I express emotion, I don't always establish an emotional connection to my scene partner. It's not clear to anyone what my scene partner means to me. (Pause for effect.)
So, I figure this is just part of who A is, I don't think in the course of his everyday life, his life would be significantly better if he didn't continue to build and stage in his cage of rules. This is probably good, because he doesn't act as if he's had this insight yet. (I, OTOH, have had this insight, and eventually, I'll figure out what to do about it.)
This blog entry has no point except that I'm finishing the 5th of the 5 level workshop course. I don't know where to go with improv from here. It can actually be lots of fun, so I might take another of their classes or go to the Sunday night open practices. On the other hand, I'm writing every day. I climb once a week. I game once a week. Choir is starting back up, which is at least a once a week commitment. I don't know where improv rates among all of that.
I can do anything, but I can't do everything. That's frustrating.
Perhaps it was because this was the last rehearsal, but a riff that recurred through this entire quarter finally paid off today. One student, A, very clearly wants rules and to follow them to the exclusion of everything else. If a scene doesn't work, then he wants a rule that he can apply that makes the scene work. As far as he's concerned, learning improv is the mere collection of all of these rules. Good improv is work which does not break any of these rules.
BTW, by rules, I mean rules. Not guidelines. Not suggestions. Cast in concrete, no room for exception or deviation rules. Everything must go precisely as the rules dictate. For A, it's really not about doing anything right. It's all about not doing anything wrong. This is the guy who, whenever we do an exercise, asks all sorts of very specific detailed questions about exactly what we're supposed to do. He's not trying to game the exercise. He's just trying to do nothing wrong.
If that's the way he wants to work, I'm not so bothered by it. I think it's preventing himself from sublime heights of inspiration. The inevitable outcome of this is that we get the same scenes over and over again. If you only have one way of telling a story, you have only one story. However, it's not like I will ever convince A of that. What bothers me, is when he tries to impose his rules on everyone else.
We all know and understand the principle that not only do we accept a scene partner's offer, but extend it, bringing in our own information into the scene. The student in question had a detailed proposal which specified on which line of each scene, the type of information the characters in the scene must impart. To be fair, he got this from a training exercise from the weekly open practices the studio conducts. Also, if you follow this schema, the scene will have, in fact, started with a solid base of information. However, he was proposing this as how we should do all of our scenes. On an assembly line, predictability and repeated sameness is a good thing. In an improv show, not so much.
Anyway, what typically happens when he does this is that our coach points out that rules are a crutch. What's important is that we work the skill implied by the rules. For example, in this case, we need to remember not only to react to a scene partner's offer, but bring in information of our own. (Actually, the meta-rule is probably that we need to do something to propel the scene forward.) His rule is one way of many to do that, and it's good to practice that one way. But it's good to practice all the other ways too and to allow yourself that freedom.
What happened this time is that another student, B, pointed out the pattern. (Talk about playing to the top of your intelligence!) He pointed out that A apparently really likes rules and order and is constantly proposing them, and that what would follow next would be our coach explaining why those rules are, in the long run, not useful. Because I wish I'd done that, I chimed in agreeing with him. (Heightening his offer.)
A didn't acknowledge this. (I'd like to think that if he were able to recognize the pattern, he would have broken it.) However, the coach did, in classic improv fashion. i.e., a general principle of improv is that no one is ever wrong, and nothing you do on stage is ever a mistake. This is in part because if you spent all your time trying to do things right, you'll be so paralyzed that you won't do a thing. Improv coaches tend to speak in terms of stronger and weaker choices. (To mentally map them to "right" and "wrong" is to destroy the nuance that leads to the really awesome work.)
What the coach did, then, was not say that A was wrong. He affirmed the value of what A suggested as a training exercise, but then pointed out we shouldn't be limited to just a training exercise. That is, he said what he always said, but stressing that A wasn't wrong, just that there are a wide variety of other things we could also do. No one is wrong.
Given that we've gone on this merry-go-round several times now and we're still not off of it, I doubt that this has sunk into A yet. Or at least he did nothing to make me thing that it has sunk in. That's really too bad. It'd be a serious breakthrough for him if it had. However, I think creating a cage out of rules is ingrained into who he is. (i.e., he really wants the cage.)
I noticed a few rehearsals back that the notes the coach gives us about our improv correlate with we are. The calm, mild mannered person is also the one whose improv is too middle of the road and risk averse. The wishy washy person is also the one who doesn't commit to choices. (Today, we had an interesting meta-problem when she couldn't commit to committing.) For the record, my note is that while I express emotion, I don't always establish an emotional connection to my scene partner. It's not clear to anyone what my scene partner means to me. (Pause for effect.)
So, I figure this is just part of who A is, I don't think in the course of his everyday life, his life would be significantly better if he didn't continue to build and stage in his cage of rules. This is probably good, because he doesn't act as if he's had this insight yet. (I, OTOH, have had this insight, and eventually, I'll figure out what to do about it.)
This blog entry has no point except that I'm finishing the 5th of the 5 level workshop course. I don't know where to go with improv from here. It can actually be lots of fun, so I might take another of their classes or go to the Sunday night open practices. On the other hand, I'm writing every day. I climb once a week. I game once a week. Choir is starting back up, which is at least a once a week commitment. I don't know where improv rates among all of that.
I can do anything, but I can't do everything. That's frustrating.