Over the last two weekends I have been on an Improv course in London. This in itself is nothing remarkable I head down to london several times a year to go and improve my improv knowledge and abilities. The course this time took place over two weekends with the brilliant Abra Tabak from the UCB in New York. Rather than teach a specific curriculum that she had preplanned, Abra ran a very responsive series of workshops that adapted to the improvisers who were in front of her. This worked because everyone on the course had a deal of improv experience.
We ran the La Rhonde format for much of the course and after giving a rundown of the form we essentially just reppped shows, getting notes on them afterwards. Most of the course we had just done half and half with the class but on the final day Abra divided us down into smaller groups. The first did a brilliant set, then in the notes session afterwards, Abra said she had put the three most supportive players together. Everyone in the classroom immediately seemed to clench. The thought that we were being categorised scared us all. Another group came up, later identified as the character players. Their show was excellent. Fuck. I never hope anyone will do bad or unfunny improv, but I was wishing the bar had not been set so high. Perhaps Abra felt the insecurity that was reaching a palpable level in the room but we broke for lunch.
One club wrap and a chocolate croissant later we came back. The third group didn’t contain me either, this one was a group of info gatherers. By this point I was certain I was in a group labeled either miscellaneous or WHY? WHY ARE YOU IMPROVISING? WHY? The third group did a run that was still fairly funny, though not as good as the first two.
We were up at last, three of us. Two who didn’t deserve to be tarred with the same brush as myself, and I. It was not a good set. I did one character I was happy with, a Viking, the rest of what I did was a blur of sub parr crap. We finished we had had 4 laughs in 20 minutes. I had been to funerals with a better laugh ratio.
Then came the categorisation; game snipers. When we good we were really good we made game moves that killed and when we were bad we really fucking sucked, we also beat our selves up and internalised our feelings if we did not achieve perfection. Abra went as far as to say what we did was not good. It seems trivial but it was devastating.
I want to be a good actor and I took a degree of pride in following my emotions, there got to a point last year where I was just trying to do emotional improv rather than funny and the comments made me feel like none of this work I had put in had worked. Ironically I had made a conscious effort to play the game more because I was worried I was not being funny or interesting.
Following the disaster we took a break and I went off and internalised all my negative feelings, cried and insulted myself in a mirror. I briefly thought about walking out into traffic. All of this made me realise Abra was right, I was making myself feel bad because the thing I had made up on the spot was not perfect. How stupid.
When someone helps you, you should thank them; so I went to go and purposely say thank you to Abra. She could very easily have fluffed out a partial note with only a small degree of relevance and just have an easy holiday where everyone got on and thought she was wonderful (which incidentally she is), instead she had the courage and the honesty to give a note that could make her really unpopular.
I went to thank her and as I did so I burst into tears again. Stupid. Abra handled a massive crying 6’1” man so well and was so supportive as I wallowed in my shame, giving me advice on how to deal with it and how to take steps forward. It’s the mark of a really excellent teacher, one who will adapt to the moment they find themselves with a pupil.
I started writing this as an entry to talk about the importance about taking the hard note and it has moved to me telling a story. I am grateful that Abra told me this trend, if your nose gets broken you often have to break it again to reset it. The emotional pain I felt over the weekend was a resetting, I can start to work on an area I am weak on to develop my improv and get better. This seems to me to mean go ahead with your emotion and don’t worry about whether this is funny or interesting, so I wrote this to start acting on that. I feel some pain still but it’s more like I’ve been ploughed ready for more seeds to be sown. The hard note was that plough and come spring I will be growing again.