Chris Reblogs

Improv Ramblings: Why we ask why and what why means

Justifications are tricky business and I’ve been trying to figure out how to coach them.

So you have scene with some weird/odd/funny. Usually the funny thing is behavior and some actually thing or activity. The activity or thing might be weird it is darn hard to continue to play and to heighten unless it is associated with a behavior. Justification is often how we get to that behavior.

But even once you get to that behavior you often need to ask why that behavior is the way it is. This is for a two fold reason. One, the audience likes to know. Two (and more importantly), tells you, the performer, how to continue to play it.

Let’s go with a horrible example that I am going to make up as I go along:

• A father gives his daughter a big scope of liverwurst for desert.

Okay. It is a weird thing. In and of itself it is just a bit of craziness. But devoid of anything else it is just a weird thing/activity. It is not behavior. If we just play this “game,” we just have a father who gives weirder things for dessert.

• The father insists that the liverwurst is a great dessert.

Closer to behavior. Let’s call it behavior. But we still don’t know why. We could just heighten how delicious the father thinks liverwurst is but that is gonna get old real quick and gives the daughter very little to do except to straight man it.

• His father always gave him liverwurst and that is what just what he knows.

Okay. We now have background on why. We have a reason behind the behavior. But it doesn’t really let us play it. It sort of a plot move. If we don’t delve deeper, it is just color and leads to the danger of talking about the past.

• Liverwurst for dessert is how the father knows how to show love for his child. Liverwurst represents love. Liverwurst is a metaphor for love.

Now we have something to play with. We have a behavior and an emotional reason behind the behavior. And the father now has a solid filter to play other moves through. And we can get away from just having a scene about the damn liverwurst. If liverwurst represents love, what does ice cream represent? What does watching tv represent? We also have a clear WANT for the father: To have his daughter know he loves her. It is something in the moment.

This is, as said, a horrible example. Scenes rely on the behavior of two people and I mostly ignored the daughter. And don’t ignore simple justifications. It could easily has been the dad forgot to buy dessert. Of course, we’d still need to know why he insist on serving dessert in this case. (And just “Dad is crazy and/or stupid and doesn’t understand dessert” is never going to be fun to watch.)

Sometimes we justify in our heads but don’t say it. Say it. Just say it. There is not enough time to be coy. If this were a two act play, we could live with the weird behavior and reveal the reasons behind it in a big emotional out burst in the final 15 minutes. But there is no time for it. Also, in a scripted play, your scene partner would know the subtext. You can’t hope they figure it out. To quote the great Shannon O’Neil, “There is no hope in improv.” Say it as soon as you think it.

Sometimes there is the danger of justifying the fun away. This seems to usually happen when all your justifications are more plot-y than emotional. They can just explain behavior or things away into nothing. “We have liverwurst for dessert because we are lactose intolerant and happen to just like really liverwurst.” (As soon as I typed that, my improv brain jumped to how to react to that line. “I know, dad. I do love liverwurst. But I want to be a normal girl who eats ice cream!” So is the nature of the beast.)

Knowing when to stop asking deeper and deeper whys is tricky. If your first why answer is a plot detail, your second should probably be an emotional one. The farther you walk down the plot path, the harder it is to get off. Of course, you often need a touch of plot detail. If your character is angry that your roommate never does the dishes, it is not just about the dishes. (it is NEVER just about the dishes.) I think the moment you can stop is when you know that your aren’t just hitting patterns but have something you can act through. Yes, act. Not pretend but act.

Now, there are also times when very very little justification is needed. In fact, none. Recognizing this is often just gut. Something just feels right.

Here’s an example from the last Thank You, Robot show:

John Robert initiated a scene by clearly being at a camera on a tripod and saying “Everyone get in the picture.” The other four of us rushed to pose for the photo. There was bit of the normal chaos in those first five seconds that happens whenever four people try to pose. And we just followed that. And heightened.

It was standard bit that you’ve seen before. People shifting positions. Saying “Am I in the picture?” and “Oh! I’ll sit in front.” But we just kept heightening to more and more absurd positions: picking people up, upside down, leaving the stage, climbing the walls, sticking heads in other people’s sweaters. All the while John Roberts kept saying simple variations on “Get in the picture!”*

But we never asked deeper whys. We didn’t need to. It was just simple normal behavior the kept heightening. Nothing more. If at any time one of us had stopped and said “Guys! We are being silly. It is just a simple photo for our Christmas card. Calm down,” the fun most likely would have stopped dead. Sure, we could build the energy back up. Or we could have then taken a moment to find out why we were avoiding settling down and taking a picture. But we knew we had something simple and fun and didn’t let up. Recognizing that can be hard but trust your gut. Often, if you are having fun, the audience is having fun. (Not always, of course.)

Summary on a particularly rambling Ramblings:

• Ask why your character is doing what they are doing and the more emotional-based it is the better.

• Don’t hide it from your scene partner and/or audience.

• Once you know where your character is playing from, you can probably stop justifying (at least until something newly weird comes up).

• Sometimes just yes-anding each others behavior and not asking why is enough.

*(The scene ended with us finally ending up in some ridiculous mass of twisted bodies. John Robert took a beat, press the camera button and, in a brilliant understated move, said, “Fifteen seconds!” and ran around the camera to join us. This was near the end of the show and we’d previous had a scene of us looking at a photo album. Seth, I think, cut us from us waiting for the camera to take the photo back to us looking at the album. And Jeremy said, “Too bad I blinked.” I don’t know if there is a lesson in all that but it was magical to be in it.)