‘Improvisation’ is doing something without a plan. And ‘improv’ is the practice of doing it in theatre or comedy. Or is it ‘impro’? At AndAlso, we mostly use ‘Improv’’, but our good friends at Hoopla say ‘Impro’. So does the ‘v’ matter? Or rather, why and how much does it matter?
Let’s start with some history. The word ‘impro’ comes from the British and Canadian tradition. It is the title of Keith Johnstone’s book, which describes the work he (and other members of Theatre Machine) developped in the 50’s at the Royal Court Theatre in London. Keith moved to Calgary in the seventies, where he founded the Loose Moose Theatre Company.
Improv, on the other hand, is used to describe the American tradition, which started with Viola Spolin teaching acting games to immigrant children. Her son Paul Sills was one of the co-founders of Second City, a theatre which gave rise to iO (Improv Olympic, before the IOC got litigious), the Annoyance, and many other theatres across the US, including the UCB.
But what about the improv itself?
Impro (UK/Canada) has its origins in theatre, which means it is often concerned with storytelling, status, and social convention. It teaches actors to be responsive, both to the audience and to each other. A classic impro show may have audience interaction, possibly even scores and elimination. Keith Johnstone was a theatre director and playwright, but he was also inspired by hockey and wrestling. Genre and theatricality are important considerations, as is the emotional life of the characters. Your first stop is his book Impro (Johnstone).
A classic ‘Impro’ show might have two teams competing by setting each other challenges, which are then scored by the audience. Who can do the best scene without words? Or in a genre? The teams wear different colours and, although the competition doesn’t matter, maybe the winners get something symbolic, like a crisp, framed five-pound note.
Improv (Chicago/NYC), on the other hand, comes from a tradition of satirical comedy and sketch, with a dollop of mysticism thrown in. It is concerned with building ideas in small increments, Ouija-like, to reveal the genius of the group, and with making shows that have a message. It wants to mean something and often explicitly describes itself as ‘comedy’. Improv is less often narrative than Impro. iO-founder Del Close was (among many other things) a performer. Truth in Comedy (Cloe/Halpern/Johnson) is where to start.
A classic ‘Improv’ show takes a single word and might not come back to the audience at all. The word ‘lantern’ makes me think of living in Whitechapel and sneaking onto the flat roof of my building to watch the fireworks. This leads to a series of scenes about social convention, shared experience, and enjoying the moment while it lasts.
Can there be story in Improv? Yes. Just as there is comedy in Impro. The two communities worked with, influenced, and stole from each other way before the pandemic made all geography in improv largely irrelevant. It might seem absurd to be arguing about the meaning of a single letter, especially when I am describing origins that these traditions have travelled a long way from. Is this difference important to understand before you take your first improv class? Of course not. There are core skills of playfulness and agreement that are common to both. But an awareness of these differences may help to develop a language for the improv you enjoy. It’s important to be able to describe your taste.
Can improvisers from different traditions work together? Of course they can. Will they agree about everything? Probably not. They will likely make slightly different offers from each other. The different traditions are best seen as groupings of tendencies and expectations. One towards emotion, one towards pattern. One building through genre, one through theme. The Improviser wants to impress and charm the audience; the Improviser is an artist whose work the audience witnesses. At AndAlso, we teach from these traditions (and many others as well). Neither is better, but they are meaningfully different.
Improv is not one thing, any more than sport, cooking or language are. In improv (as in many things), anyone generalising is likely to be universalising their taste. In fact, I sometimes think it is unhelpful that we call what we do ‘improvisation’ at all. It implies a lack of convention and expectation, which are things any community will (and should) develop. I suspect in twenty years the ‘v’ difference will be just a historical curio. There will be other words to describe differences in improv styles. I’m sure we won’t exactly agree on those either.
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No Stupid Questions is an occasional series of blogs for questions you want to ask your improv teacher. Feel free to send suggestions to jules@andalsoimprov.com.