Fast forward to 2009 and there are now one bajillion teams, almost none of which practice. A lot of them are two-to-three person teams, but it seems like there are now a ton of side projects. Every improviser is on at least three teams. And as all of our careers take off, be they real world or UCB world related, there’s no time for practice with your indie team anymore. Is this a bad thing?
This is also something I have been thinking about lately, that improvteams.com has highlighted, along with the difficulty of scheduling a rare S&CC practice.
I’ve seen a lot of us all improv incredibly as performers since we all started our first scrappy upstart teams. I think those days of constant rehearsal have given way to tight performers who can do good work with anyone, not just their own teams. Kaleidoscope is a very good example of that.
Plus, all of the tools you learn in improv practice naturally extend into other comedy realms, like sketch or stand-up. I think it’s so much more vital for growth to try the new things. Rehearsing once a week is great, and valuable, but there is also incredible value in trying new things, solo things, and just living life.
All of this outside stuff does work some sort of comedy muscle; a thinking and connecting synapse in the brain.
Another thing I have been thinking about: Improv, as well as any time of performance, is as psychical as it is mental. Practice can train your mind to make good comedy decisions, but taking care of your body is as important. By taking care of your body, I don’t mean exercise, but just general well-being. Feeling relaxed, rested, ready to move. Studying motion, people watching. Experiencing everything you can. Like, imagine if you had never gone to a bar before and you were in a scene at a bar. In that moment, you’d wish you’d actually had experience with it.
Think of improv as just your biceps. If you only worked out your biceps, you’d look like the biggest dork at the gym. You have to work the rest of your body as well.
I’m not saying anything new, but I feel like it’s something creative people forget. It’s the difference between a Corbet and a Kinkade. Corbet is a fantastically emotive painter who’s images strike you almost immediately. Thomas Kinkade can paint a technically accurate and wonderfully colored cabin in a snowy valley, but it’s empty of message or feeling.
Also, some of the best advice I have received on how to become a better improviser came from Christina Gausas, who told us in her openings and group games class to read books. Any books. Anything with substance. I am now trying to take that advice more to heart these days.
So, I guess to answer Brett’s overall question, I think practice does make perfect, as long as there is some actual individual training going on as well. I always get sort of weird about discussing improv on an open internet forum, but this is the one aspect of it that I really want to preach. Live life, and be funny.
Without making fun of Bozarth for all his metaphors, I agree. I think practice makes better, and living life helps, and nothing makes perfect. But it’s our flaws that make improv interesting, and the reactions that come out of them. Practice does indicate a commitment to the craft, but not necessarily. When we all started out, we practiced because we really, really wanted to improve, and now most people practice out of obligation, some people rebel and everything falls apart.
In conclusion, have a funny life, perform with as many different people as possible, read, watch movies, take everything you’ve learned from practicing with one group and bring it to the next. My biggest regret is being a bit isolated. I wish it were easier to move to a different state and take the whole spirit of the theater and NYC with me inside. I think jump-starts like that are worth a million rehearsal hours - but I digress.
