Reasonably Attractive, In Flattering Light

I've written about labels in improv before, but it's been a little while and I have a new perspective on it today.

I always talk about labels being specific and, ideally, helping to identify a character and/or behavioral trait. Labels about looks are good, too, if we learn what that means to either of the characters. But something in class reminded me today that labels that define a character flaw, personality weakness or other shortcoming are perhaps the awesomest labels of all.

Not that all the characters in a scene will be a "loser" - but still, every character needs to have a flaw or something that humanizes them. The big, macho, arrogant guy is simply a bully... unless he has a weakness of his own. And those kinds of labels can be really specific as well. Maybe his favorite movie is Bambi (the Disney one, not some porn one), or maybe he is afraid of the dark, or maybe he's always secretly wanted to be a ballerina.

Same thing with appearance. "Brunette" is a label, but it only tells us the person has brown hair. What does that mean? Once, I labeled myself as "reasonably attractive, in flattering light." "Reasonably attractive" is an okay label, but sort of vague. "In flattering light" adds an extra layer of information - in this case, obvious insecurity - which gives the character something to work with. The fact that I labeled myself this way in a real-life conversation, not an improv scene, is completely irrelevant. My self esteem is fine, thank you very much.

Um. Yes. Moving on.

My point is just this: your labels should help define a character, not simply describe them. For example, "She's hungry" is a boring label, whereas "She's always so cantankerous because she's hungry from dieting incessantly in an attempt to look like Jennifer Aniston" is a label that's full of useful information for building a character.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to turn down the lights. It's not flattering in here at all.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

"LOOK AT ME!!"

Not too long ago, Richard was attempting to teach me a dance that was evidently very clear to him in his head, and he would say, "Look at me! LOOK AT ME!!" to try and get me to be able to follow him. Let's just say that a) one or both of us may have been a bit tipsy, and b) I am the worst dancer EVER, so this was not the most successful endeavor we've undertaken, but even in his allegedly impaired state, he had a point about the look at me thing.

Eye contact is a magical thing. I'm sure you get sick of hearing that word in relation to improv, but sometimes I don't have a better explanation, so magic it is. I was not a natural at eye contact when I started improv. I was shy, and had trouble making or maintaining eye contact in real life, and I could NEVER hold the eye contact for long in exercises like Multiword Story, where Darren would conduct and the players had to keep their eyes on his for the ENTIRE exercise. Some stories seemed to go on for what felt like 7 years or so.

Darren kept insisting that eye contact would help us get out of our heads, help us be in the moment, help us know what to say rather than thinking of what to say and help us get on the same page with our scene partner. I believed him intellectually, but being stubborn on top of shy, I didn't think it would work for ME.

Then one night, I was doing some exercise with Andy. I have no idea what it was. But somehow I made eye contact with him (it was probably an accident; I probably looked at him when I figured he'd be looking somewhere else), and then by some miracle I didn't flinch or look away, and I realized I knew exactly what he was going to say next. He said it, I responded, and the scene was... well, I dunno because I can't remember the scene. I just remember the feeling of being on the same page for the first time.

From that moment on, I was sold on the concept of eye contact. I've seen it work a million times, for everyone. Obviously, you don't always know what your scene partner is going to say. But there is a connection that you can only get from eye contact that takes you a long way towards being almost psychic sometimes. Even if you can never get the scene going, you have that connection and the strong sense that at least you are not in this alone.

But it has to be real eye contact, peeps. Looking just to the left or right of your partner's eyes so it LOOKS like you're making eye contact, but you're really not, doesn't work. Also, staring without seeing doesn't work. Plus it's creepy. Please don't do that.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

No More Words

I have been staring at my laptop for a good 36 minutes and I have nothing to say. NOTHING. I think I'm just saving all my words for this weekend, when I'm teaching my regular Level 1 Improv class Saturday AND the Intro to Improv 1/2-Day Workshop Sunday. That's a whole lotta words for me to come up with.

Actually, the 1/2-Day workshop demands fewer words on my part than usual classes require... It's a dip-your-toe-in-the-water-to-see-if-you-like-improv kinda thing for new peeps, and an extra play session for those who have taken classes in the past or are currently enrolled. Since it's more of a workshop, I just explain how to do the exercises and let people give 'em a shot, rather than getting into all the how's and why's and all those pesky rules.

This particular one filled up FAST, so we scheduled another one already, for March 24th. If you've been wondering if improv is for you (trust me, it is), or just wanting a chance to play with different people, or needing something that doesn't require a 6-week commitment, this is the workshop for you.

I promise, I'll have words. Just not too many.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

But When Do We Do Scenes?!?

Sometimes, I have students who get frustrated with me because we don't just jump right into doing improv scenes. And I get that... I mean, if you've watched Whose Line or seen shows at Groundlings or whatever, you think woohoo! that looks fun! and you want to try it.

The thing is, you might watch a football game or Dancing with the Stars or a brain surgery and think it looks fun - but you don't assume that because you're interested in it, you are automatically endowed with the skills needed to do it.

I'm not saying improv is brain surgery. But it does have rules and a structure, which vary according to the type of improv we're talking about. So we spend a few weeks doing exercises focused on the various rules like agreement, adding information, commitment, not asking questions, being an expert, not being sarcastic, having big emotions, not trying to be funny and the like. And guess what? Even though those exercises aren't complete improv scenes, you're still doing improv. You are doing improv from the minute you walk into the very first class and holler Yay!

Any group of friends can get together and play Scenes from a Hat and be hilarious. But when you sign up for an improv class, it's my job to teach you stuff. Trust me, I'd be happy to jump up onstage with you and just play, but that's not why I make the big bucks. If you're constantly looking ahead and wondering, "When is she ever going to let us do scenes?" you're missing out on all the learning and all the fun!! It's not as if the exercises are like, well, exercising. They're fun to do and hilarious to watch. And if you're constantly looking ahead, you aren't in the moment.

Since being in the moment is more or less the underpinning of improv... well, I think you get the point.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv: Let's Play Soldiers!

I learned something in an improv class recently. I know, shocking.

As you all probably have realized by now, I am quite analytical and derive part of my enjoyment of improv from analyzing the why's and wherefore's of it. Why is asking questions bad? Why is commitment the only rule that offers no wiggle room? Why does Andy no longer carry his dead wife's head around in a mason jar?

I know the answers to two out of three of those questions, by the way.

One thing I've been analyzing lately is the idea of being self-conscious. Actually, self-aware might be a better way to put it. Self-conscious implies embarrassment, and I want to use the word in a broader sense. See, some people are self-conscious in the sense that they feel judged when the audience watches them do certain types of characters or voices or physicality, and that feeling of judgment leads them to be embarrassed or inhibited.

On the other hand, some people are self-conscious in the sense that they feel like what they're doing is awesome and they can't wait for the audience to see it. Rather than feeling embarrassed, they are showing off. So it's not self-consciousness in the way we normally think of the word, but it still requires an awareness of yourself and the audience: I am showing off for you. That's a better way to go, because you'll be much more likely to fully commit to a character and play the emotions HUGE than if you're inhibited. But...

I talked to someone recently who was having a great class and I asked if she had any previous improv or drama experience. She laughed and said no, but that sometimes she and her friends just goofed off in an improv-y sort of way to amuse themselves.

And I realized that that's what we do when we're kids. Of course, we don't know the rules of improv. But we instinctively commit, marching around like soldiers, or prowling around like cops and robbers or making delicious spacework (back then we called it "pretend") brownies for our playing house families. We had deep voices, threw out our chests, cowered in pretend fear, were total experts at everything, screamed at the top of our lungs - and we weren't self-conscious. We were just totally in the moment, playing.

I don't know if there's any way to be aware of the audience/class/teacher and not let it affect you, in either the don't look at me way OR the hey! look at me! way, but it's now another goal of mine to forget anybody's watching and just PLAY!

By Sonnjea Blackwell