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Do you think of jazz music as a training tool for musicians or as a means of devising composed music? How about improvised contemporary dance? Most would consider these as stand-alone artforms, as credible and potentially sophisticated as their pre-composed or choreographed relatives. Why, then, do many think of unscripted theatre any differently?
Perhaps, your perception might have been framed by your first or most recent exposure to improvisation; statistically, a shortform comedic format like Theatresports or one popularised on television, which appears as little more than light entertainment.
Around the globe, however, thousands devote their lives to developing models of spontaneous theatre performance that go far beyond this. At Australia’s international festival and convention of unscripted theatre, Improvention, held each July in Canberra, audiences will certainly experience short-form, but they will also see full-length dramas, music theatre, meticulously crafted genre pieces, experimental forms, and more, performed by artists from a dozen countries, at a level of professionalism unseen by most outside of the world-wide tribe engaged in the artform as both a lifelong learning process, and a career path.
I think of improvisation as an artform, because it has unique strengths and challenges. How often have you been backstage, when a director reminds a cast the audience are seeing a certain piece of theatre for the first time, and this is the experience they expect the cast to provide. In scripted work, it is only ever possible to professionally emulate this result, whereas in unscripted theatre, it actually is the first time, allowing for an entirely new level of authenticity.
The director might then remind the cast to be ‘in the moment’, and yet, the actors know the cue they are waiting for, and they know the line or move they are expected to make. They can imagine how they might perfect their delivery this time. They are not actually ‘in the moment’, in any full sense. The improviser, however, can only listen or observe intently, and respond at the very moment the immediate circumstances require them to do so.
Learning how to achieve these things well is not simply some natural talent. It is an acquired set of skills, and a mindset, which when delivered at its most elegant, can only be described as an artform.
An improviser is not someone who thinks quickly or cleverly, but someone who has discovered the ability to allow the chaos of their busy brains, and their egocentric need to appear ‘good’, to make a dignified exit.
They have replaced these things with the realisation that we are all interesting, if we allow our true selves to be exposed. They simply let what is already there out, but in the context of having conditioned themselves to simultaneously utilise a vast and unique toolkit of acquired skills in characterisation, narrative, etc.
In my opinion, the methodology is as useful as any other for creating quality theatre, and there’s no useful reason to point out to an audience that a piece is improvised, whether to excuse rough edges or to amaze them with the magic of it all. If the performance is good, the audience is unlikely to believe that it’s fully improvised, and if it’s not good, who cares whether it was improvised or not? Most forms don’t advertise their methodology as a selling point, and most of my own works are simply put forward as a piece of theatre like any other, for audiences to make what they will of it.
So, why am I so obsessed with this particularly form? I think it’s the beauty of the methodology, itself. Whilst we’d hope that in any performing arts environment, we can create a caring and respectful environment of equality and empathy, to get past first-base in the art of improvisation, these are the very skills that make the process work at all. I must listen to you properly and I must observe what you are doing. I must respond with authentic recognition to the offers you make, and if I make you look good, I ending up looking good. The very concepts we teach in every class breed an environment that is ultra-pleasant to be in.
These qualities of unscripted theatre present unique opportunities for genuine exploration of the human condition. They contribute no end to experiencing beauty in life, and make great conversationalists.
They confront you with your own vulnerabilities and end up convincing you that your own strength is right there in your own individuality. They are why improvisers get so much corporate work as role-players and in direct training, using improvisational theatre techniques. They are why improvisers audition well.
The art of improvisation awaits your reconsideration. If you write to me at admin@impro.com.au, I’ll talk with you about it. I just love a good conversation.
