The Guesswork At The Edge Of The Universe
Improv: terrifying cult or vital tool for connection and liberation? Finally, scientists have an answer
Improv is relatively unknown here, in the late capitalist comedy experiment known as “England”.
Decrepit millennials will know the essentials from Whose Line Is It Anyway.
It is, essentially, making shit up on the spot, in a manner that is hopefully entertaining to both the people on stage and in the audience.
There are short and long-form strands. The longer the form, the harder it is, seems to be the general consensus from those who know what they’re taking about.
But there’s nothing wrong with short form. Spend an evening with, say, Gämez, and you’ll get a sense for the skill and talent required.
If you are lucky enough to have a corporate job, your organisation may have brought in some improvisers as part of a team-building exercise.
Beyond this, its position in UK culture is somewhere between Half Man Half Biscuit and Korfball: niche, predominantly white, and dominated by people with disposable income.
But those who like it, like it a LOT.
The joke I hear most often about improv is that it’s not a cult. The second is it’s not a pyramid scheme.
These sort of statements obviously lead one to wonder if it’s a cult or a pyramid scheme.
I learned about improv via my friends at Hoopla.
Predominantly an improv organisation, Hoopla also for a time offered sketch comedy and stand-up classes.
Thus Next Level Sketch, and thus our outlier place in the regular schedule of the Hoopla Impro theatre in London Bridge.1
Hoopla are great. Diverse, inclusive, and effortlessly kind.
Mildly shambolic, like me.
I did my first couple of improv courses with them, both extremely interrupted by the pandemic.
I was deprived of an end-of-course show. Improv is like making love to a beautiful woman: difficult on Zoom.
I’ve finally returned to classes down here in Brighton, now that I feel a bit more settled.
The main improv mafia down here are The Maydays, who recently rebranded their class offerings as AndAlso.
I plumped for their “Level 3”, not really knowing what that meant or whether I would be of a similar level to the other players.
I needn’t have worried. My class are all good improvisers, who have completed several courses together before.
They understand each other’s styles, and leanings; they are welcoming, funny, and kind, to an almost disturbing degree.
It might, in fact, be a cult.
I find it difficult to write about improv. It’s a bit like swimming about architecture, or titwanking about Gaza, as seen in the House of Commons this week.
As soon as a scene starts, my mind is totally blank, and I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say or do. In full flow state, choices no longer become choices. I’m as surprises as anyone else when it works, which it does, surprisingly often.
I know there are improvers out there who follow this newsletter. I love reading about how you perform, and how you prepare to perform.
Please do tell me if I’m doing it wrong.
Next Wednesday is Next Level Sketch at Hoopla Impro. I’m not performing in any sketches, but I did book the lineup, and I shall be hosting. I’ll have a bit more time to hang than usual, so would be great to see some of you there!
Ever wanted to read about rail infrastructure in Epic Games’ Fortnite? You’re in luck.
I visited the worst place in Brighton, aka “The Marina”.
I was going to write about the Post Office Tower, but a much more qualified human, the fabulous John Grindrod, beat me to it.
We were the first non-improv regular night at Hoopla, but others have followed, including our nemeses, Stop Trying To Make Sketch Happen, and the sadly discontinued Charlie’s Comedy Cabaret.