We’re All Rock Stars When we’re at Home.

 

Backstage Expert Article

As a kids and teens improv instructor, one of the most common responses I get from befuddled parents when I tell them that their child is a little reserved and shy, is: “But you should see her at home! She does skits in the living room, sing, dance… She’s a rock star when she’s at home!” In fact, they have inadvertently captured the spirit and attitude one must keep in mind when learning improv: We’re all rock stars when we’re at home.

As cheesy and cliché as it may sound, there is great validity, on many levels, to the expression “Sing like nobody’s listening. Dance like nobody’s watching.” It is, indeed, most exhilarating to sing and dance when we’re by ourselves, because there’s nobody to see us potentially embarrass ourselves. It’s like a more wholesome version of living in a world without consequences. Suddenly you’re not aware of your awkward limbs, or your squeaky voice; there’s no pressure to be witty, or funny, or “cool”; there’s nobody to make you feel self-conscious, there’s nobody to impress or to compete against. No more of the self-imposed restrictions about what you can or cannot do. There’s no doing; there’s just being. And then you’re asked to perform the same act –whatever it may be– in front of a camera or an audience, and the walls instantly come up, the creative aspects of yourself start shutting down, and the defense mechanisms are in full swing, ready to protect you from the elements that are out of your control (so, pretty much everything!). And now, you’re not yourself; you’re a safe version of yourself. Because people are watching.

At the core of improv, is the acceptance that we have to explore our instincts in order to find ourselves, we do have a voice that deserves to be heard, and we are comfortable enough to be real with our scene partner. The obstacle here is that being real often means being flawed, and we associate being flawed with being weak. In fact, being flawed is being human. Most improv games and activities actually encourage the students (intentionally or subliminally) to be flawed, and awkward, and uncomfortable, through truth-centered, go-with-your-gut dialogue and expression. The objective is not to turn away from the awkwardness by “folding” and shutting down. The objective is to embrace the awkwardness like a human being: by feeling. So if you’re in a boyfriend-girlfriend scene that’s making you blush (you’re not the first or the last…), or a goodbye-forever scene that’s making you uncomfortable (interesting… Why??!), or a bully scene that’s making you frustrated (it doesn’t always have to be funny), allow yourself to BE in that moment. Notice your voice trembling, or your hands fidgeting, or your heart racing, or a playful smirk slowly making its way through. That’s you feeling something real! That’s you being human! And these very real emotions can guide you towards reacting truthfully in your own unique way. No script necessary.

We place so much significance on our scripted words, that if the script is taken away from us, we feel lost and helpless. Feeling comfortable in front of the camera is “half the battle.” But what happens when the director says “Now put the script down, and get the message across in your own words”? When we lose the script, we lose our safety net, and we instinctively try to speak from memory, than speak from the heart. And so before embodying characters and roles, and getting into someone else’s skin, we first must become comfortable with being in our own skin; as we explore, discover and embrace the random quirks, shticks, and insecurities that make us the unique and powerful individuals (and actors!) that we are.

And as in many cases where art imitates life and vice versa, it’s not just an improv lesson; it’s a life lesson. How many times have we found ourselves in some kind of a confrontation or tense exchange, and only once the moment is over and the adrenalin rush is gone, do we come up with the disarming comments and winning arguments that we should have said? How many times have we practiced asking someone out in front of the mirror, but when the moment presents itself to actually ask, we freeze. As teenagers (and adults), how many times have we tried to sound cool rather than honest?

So why are students encouraged to play their improvised characters “to the top of their intelligence”? Why is improv based on true emotions and true reactions? Because if you’re honest, then you have nothing to hide. If you have nothing to hide then you’re not afraid. And if you’re not afraid, then you’re free. So the next time you’re in a scene, if you live that moment truthfully and bring yourself to a point where you’re feeling fearless and free, then you have arrived. Now you are, truly, a rock star.

Improv Vs Standup: The differences that make them alike.

 

I learned many of the most valuable life lessons and acting lessons through studying improvisation. The way you “choose your comedy” is very indicative of your character. During my fledgling improv days at the Upright Citizens Brigade, I remember feeding off my teammates. There’s a huge comfort factor in knowing that you’re not the only one on that stage who isn’t sure about “where this is going.” There’s something very innocent and very pure about it; something that can almost be traced back to one’s childhood (well, to Alex Malaos’ childhood anyway), in the form of the age-old compromise: “You go first. I don’t wanna go first! Ok we both go! I’ll go if you come with me.” A good improv team is like a solid siblinghood (oh thank you spellcheck, I thought I was gonna have to fight you on that one).

A few years ago at a get-together, I met a standup comedian. Very nice guy, if I remembered his name I would give him a shout-out. I professed my sincere admiration for what he did. “Man, I have so much respect for you guys! The fact that you can be on a stage, all alone, with nothing else but what you’ve prepared. I mean at least in improv I have my teammates to fall back on, we can switch it up on the spot. But you… You are brave, my friend.” In a manner that was as much complimentary as it was complementary, he replied: “Dude! I admire what you guys do!!! I mean being on stage with no plan, no set, no strategy, leaving it all to chance! Yeah, I’m alone on stage but at least I have my material to fall back on! But you…!”

Touché sir, touché… In a strange way, we acknowledged the risk level in each other’s crafts without actually experiencing it. Fast forward a couple years later, I was able to muster the courage to perform standup for the first time and just get it out of my system. I had to find out for myself. It went great, so I just kept on doing it. And I keep on doing it today.

Alex Malaos performing standup comedy.

“You got 6 minutes. Good luck.”

So what’s the verdict?! What’s harder, improv or standup? Experiencing both has strengthened my sense of respect. For both. The truth is, they both have their challenges, it’s not about which do you find more easy or more difficult; it’s about where do you feel more comfortable. Whether you’re relying on your crew or on your material, at the end of the day, in both cases, you’re performing. And when performing, it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. Standup can be as unpredictable as improv; a joke that killed one evening, can suck dead air the next evening. And improv requires as much strategy in timing and beats as standup.

So whichever path you decide to follow, whether you’re delivering a pre-written joke or you’re spontaneously reacting to an audience suggestion… Say it like you mean it. Have fun! Learn from what worked and what didn’t work. No regrets. Stand by a joke that bombed, and don’t feel bad about “that scene that didn’t go anywhere.” They’re both lessons. In the one case you have to go back and revise the joke, and in the other you work on some improv exercises with your teammates to strengthen group-mind development (or just tell Kevin that his attitude lately has been affecting the dynamic of the group). Succeeding and failing in either of the two will inevitably make you stronger, because they both test you.

The most beautiful similarity I have found is in the unpredictability of both mediums. Right before an improv show or a standup show, I pace back and forth nervously. Can’t eat, can’t relax. I get the jitters. I start to wish this was a “proper” show, with a “proper” audience. Something with some scripted dialogue to ease the control freak inside me. And then I step on stage, do my bit, it goes great, I return backstage, take a breather and say to myself: “I wanna go again. I can do better. I wanna go again.”

As unpredictability goes, improv and standup are both, in fact, a great rush.