The Thermodynamics of Improv

Now let's create an analogy (or a reality) with an improv scene and the second law of thermodynamics. First of all, it's important to define the closed system. Remember, a closed system is a system that has no external input of energy other than what is included in that system. So let's say we define the improvisational theater itself as the closed system. The whole room, once the audience is seated and the improv show is about to begin, will hopefully have no external energy inputs. Its internal energy inputs are:

 

■ The light hitting the stage

■ The audience, with their quantity and their reactions (such as coughing or laughing or clapping)

■ The air conditioning and heating system

■ The improvisers

■ Sound energy (voices)

■ Kinetic energy (improvisers' movement)

■ Potential energy (lack of sound and movement)

 

Notice that these are also the primary factors that determine the success of an improv scene. All these sources of energy are being thrown into a scene. If energy is the capacity to do work, and work is a force applied to something moving it a distance, what is the thing that our closed system is moving forward? In this closed system, the theater, what is moving? What work is being done?

The scene itself, or what the scene is about.

That's what we're moving. That's what we put all of our energy into when we improvise. We create what the scene is about and put all of our sound, movement, lights, and audience reaction toward moving the scene forward. In a comedy scene, the audience adds real energy with their sound of laughter, fueling the scene farther. In a dramatic scene, the audience's concentrated stillness provides potential energy, which enhances dramatic tension. All of these ener­gies are directed at the intangible, yet agreed upon concept of what the scene is about.

This is truly the engine of an improv scene. We often speak of "driving a scene" and "a scene that loses its gas" and "cranking it into fourth gear in that last scene." We put gasoline in a car to provide energy to an engine to move a car a distance. As improvisers, we speak and move to provide energy to what the scene is about in order to move the scene forward.

Our biggest goal in our quest to move a scene forward is to reduce entropy. We battle against the second law, attempting to reduce wasted energy. We strive to have all our lines, movements, character choices, and environment choices go toward what the scene is about, and nothing else. Anything other than that is wasted energy. Unlike a car, which already has an engine, we have to create our engine—what the scene is about—out of thin air. And though it's not tangible, it is real; like pistons we must fire the engine in order to propel the scene and have it move forward.

In an automobile, this is all that the pistons do: gain energy from the combustion of gasoline, allowing the engine to turn the crank­shaft and move the car a distance. Imagine if the pistons of a car sometimes fired to move the car and sometimes didn't. Perhaps they fired and the explosion went into the air, or other times they fired and the car went in reverse at random, or other times they fired and they added a force to an engine of another car. Inefficient work would have been done to move the car a distance. Waste heat. As a matter of fact, this is what automobile manufacturers do all the time: seek to create cars with better fuel efficiency. They work to battle the second law, in order to minimize wasted energy and maximize fuel efficiency. (In countries other than the United States, anyway.)

As improvisers, we are the pistons of the engine of the scene. We must be able to create that engine, identify it, and do our damndest to add energy to it and it only. Yes, waste energy will disperse into the atmosphere, but we must do all we can to minimize it.

You may have seen a scene in which an improviser played a par­ticular point of view for two or three beats, and then changed her mind and went with another point of view. You just witnessed a dis­persal of waste energy. The piston misfired. Perhaps you've observed a scene where two improvisers glance back and forth at each other in silence for eighteen seconds in fear. You can feel the energy drain out of the scene even before the engine has been created. The audience can feel it also, and they unwittingly contribute to it by their reac­tion, or lack thereof.

Maybe you've witnessed a scene that starts out well enough, everything seems aligned, and then it just doesn't go anywhere or it keeps revisiting the same territory over and over again. Once again, you can feel the energy drain. Every wasted line or break of character or going to the environment with little purpose or bailing on what you created is the emission of waste energy for your scene.

Doing nothing or doing the same thing over and over in an improv scene is not even good enough: entropy will occur over time. The second law of thermodynamics doesn't care. It will take wasted energy from your scene whenever it can. Being all over the map in an improv scene is also not good enough: disorder will occur, the scene will break down. We need to focus on what the scene is, add our energy to that, and let the audience add theirs.

In improvisation, we don't have much time. Everything we create in a moment is true, and everything is about that truth and that truth must be fueled with our energy now so that we don't let ourselves waste too much energy in time, allowing our scene to reach disorder.

I am not suggesting improvising quickly, just succinctly. For example, a scene could be about not doing something. In that case, not doing that thing is where you want to put your energy. Imagine a quiet scene with two people on the thin ice of a pond; if either of the two characters move or speak too loudly, the ice will break. The potential for the ice to break is what the scene is about, and all the improvisers' energy must go toward that.

Whatever the scene is about, once you lose the energy of it, you can never get it back. When we say we lost the energy of the scene, we really did, and it ain't ever coming back.

Thermodynamics means the dynamics of heat, or what happens whenever heat energy is exchanged. Improvisation involves all dif­ferent kinds of energy exchanges, and anytime there is an energy exchange in this universe, the laws of thermodynamics are lurking in the shadows. The second law is just waiting for the molecules of the scene to break, dispersing waste energy into the universe at random, never again to be recaptured in that particular form.

Exercises to Do at Home

Many resources for teachers and students of improvisa­tion include exercises for a classroom setting. So I thought I'd provide some improvisation exercises you could do in the privacy of your own home.

I've done a lot of exercises by myself in my home, and almost all of them seem silly at first. That's okay. After a while you will condi­tion yourself to just snap into it. (Sound familiar?)

These exercises each have their own area of focus, but by merely doing them you'll gain commitment and initiation skills. Have a bit of fun.

Some strong advice:

 

Do the exercise first, then read its purpose!

 

The first set of exercises are about thinking quickly and jolting your mind around.

 

Dada Monologue

(Dada means hobbyhorse. Dada was an early 20^th century art and liter­ature movement based on deliberate nonsense. Dadaists wanted to "destroy art and replace it with nothing." They replaced it with some­thing, but the something was nothing because it made no sense.)

Launch into a Dadist monologue, one that doesn't make any sense. Look at an object in the room you are in right now and start by saying that objects name. As you talk, try not to stay on any idea too long and to make sense of nothing. I'll do this right now and write it as I go. I see a candle, so:

Candles are dogs when books tell a story of peanuts from heaven. When I was only seven dollars I went to my own factor brush, see? No one knows my father knew his cat was a green in the Texas town of pig boy. Do you understand the flypaper jolly feet? I'll bet your desk wheel knows me.

The second you start to make sense, change it up. In my example, after I wrote jolly, I immediately thought "giant," but that would have made too much sense so I changed it up.

Purpose

This exercise is excellent at freeing up random associations in your mind. It jogs your mind and wakes it up to possibilities you may have not considered. I sometimes do this as I'm walking to the theater to improvise. It brings to light fun and absurd thoughts: dif­ferent tools to associate with while improvising, as opposed to the limited range of associations we usually have.

 

Word Association

Look around the room and see an object. Say the name of the object out loud, and without pausing, immediately begin to talk about that object. You could describe it, or perhaps more favorably, let it spark an association about an experience you've had with it. After about ten seconds, interrupt yourself by saying the name of another object out loud and without pausing start to talk about something associated with that new object. Do this as long as you like, but for at least ten objects.

Purpose

This is about teaching yourself that you can literally talk about any­thing because you can relate to more than you may have thought.

If you want to advance this exercise, don't rely on objects in the room but come up with disparate words off the top of your head. As with the objects, say the word out loud (e.g., "ocean"), and without pausing launch into a story or association about the word. Bible, puppy, envy, frog gigging, cigar. Really make the words different.

I ask you not to pause before you start talking because that's a good way to practice talking and catching up with yourself. In the beginning, people will often say the word out loud, then repeat the word to give themselves a buffer, then launch into the association. Try to avoid repeating the word.

 

Gibberish

Gibberish is nonsensical, non-English babble.

"Gloshka moruque a mot?" "Tikatow too." "Nocka nu nu."

That's gibberish. You can do it right now. Do it. Yes, now, start speaking gibberish.

Good.

Now that you can do that, choose a character with a particular point of view: whatever you want. Speak a line of gibberish from that characters energy. Then respond, in gibberish, with a character who has a very different energy or point of view. Now you are doing a gib­berish scene.

Purpose

Speaking in gibberish allows us to eliminate the importance we usu­ally place on words. Notice that in gibberish, your emotional life is awakened. Practice a few gibberish scenes and you're practicing to put the how into your improvisation, that is, how someone says something versus what they say.

The following exercises are about unthinking character creation.

 

Solo Character Switches

Put a chair in the middle of the room. With a clock, watch, or timer in view, begin a character monologue. At the end of thirty seconds, without any pause at all, switch the character to something com­pletely different. I say without pause because I want you to have to catch up with your own talking and throw yourself off guard. You can do this for as long as you want. I have had students do it for up to an hour with sixty characters, each a minute long.

A variation of this is to write down character types and put them in a hat, such as "Russian dancer" or "crazy clown," and alternate between drawing a character type from the hat and making it up on the spot.

The chair in the middle of the room is there to offer variety of physical space. Have some of the characters on their feet and others sitting. Variety of character is the key. If you notice your last two characters were quiet, make the next one loud, for example, (This is a physically strenuous exercise, just to let you know.)

Purpose

This is about stretching your character skills, along with fearlessly initiating scenes. If you can condition yourself in this way, you'll get there quicker when you improvise with a partner. "Get there" meaning establishing a strong point of view and strong initiation.

 

Character Interview

Put questions that you might ask another person in a hat. These questions may vary from the personal to the workplace variety. Some examples might be:

"Where are you from?" "What's your favorite ice cream and why?" "What is a sad moment in your childhood?" "What are you reading now?"

Write about fifteen questions. After this, sit in a chair, hat close by, and launch into a character monologue. Let this go for about a minute, then "take questions." Pull a question out of the hat and answer the question as the character.

Purpose

This exercise will help you put yourself on the spot as a character. The more you vary the questions, the more you'll practice stretching yourself so you can better handle any variety of elements that come your way in an improv scene.

 

Styles and Genres in a Hat

Put twenty styles and genres in a hat. These can range from film noir to action film to horror to romance. Start a character monologue and let it get on solid ground for about thirty seconds. Then pull a style or genre out of the hat. Have your character immediately be affected by the style or genre.

Let's say your character is a mechanic. You then pull romance novel out of the hat. The mechanic character could immediately begin talking about his passion and love for cars. After you feel comfortable with simple styles and genres, you could challenge yourself and throw in book authors and playwrights. (This might require that you become more familiar with authors and playwrights, which is a good thing.)

Purpose

Styles, genres, and the distinct styles of well-known authors and playwrights are often used to inspire improvisation. Your under­standing of them will not only give you more tools to use as a scenic improviser, but will help you with an assortment of improv games as well. Learning different styles and genres also raises your reference level, and brings more theatricality and variety to your work.

 

Sound to Dialogue

Stand and make a sound, any sound. Let that sound slide into a char­acter's dialogue. Improvise for around ten seconds as that character, then make another sound and slide it into another character. For example, I make the sound, "Ohhhhhh." Then I let that slide into a character: "Ohhhhhhhkey-dokey, I want a biscuit!" or "Eeeeeeeeeeeeasy does it! Don't come any closer."

Do this for about six hours. No, do this for about two minutes.

Purpose

This is a great way to stretch out your voice and arrive at characters you didn't even know were in you. It's also a great way to train your­self to make a vocal initiation in a scene, and force your brain and mouth to catch up with your initiation.

The following exercises are about the physical: body and space.

 

Environment

Stand in the middle of a fairly empty room. Now, without thinking, reach out in the air and grab some imaginary object. It's tricky, but truly challenge yourself not to preconceive the object. The second your hand hits that object, let it inspire you to choose what it is. Then go ahead and use the object.

So, for example, I just reached out and grabbed something. I didn't know what it was until I reached out and when I saw my hand I was inspired to think, "torch." So now I have a torch in my hand. I start walking with it as if I am in a dark room. If the object were an oven, I might open and close the oven door. If I found that it was a banana, I might peel and eat it.

After you have used it, set down or leave that object, taking note of where it is. Then immediately imagine another object that is somehow associated with the first object.

So in my example, I take the torch, put it in a torch holder, then pick up a wine bottle.

Next, find a third object that might be appropriate to the first two. In my example, I have a torch and a wine bottle, and I find an old trunk. At this point, you might get an idea of where you are. Let that inspire you to find a fourth object. In my example, I feel like I'm in an old cellar, so now I find an old dress.

Continue until you've created about ten objects. For bonus points, see if you can revisit all of the objects you have created in this environment. Congratulations, you just created an entire world by reaching out your hand.

Purpose

This is a great way to practice creating environments. By beginning with nothing but the act of reaching out, you will learn to immedi­ately come up with something, and you'll find over time that doing so is not so scary. You will also find you can create a whole environment, regardless of whether a location is offered as a suggestion for a scene. Further challenge yourself by creating an environment while in char­acter monologue but not talking about what you are doing. From the very first second you reach for the first object, begin talking.

 

Body Parts

Walk at random around a room. Think of a body part, such as a nose, then lead with that body part. By lead, I mean give the nose presence: Stick out your nose a little and walk forward. After a bit, switch the body part and give that presence. For example, give your right shoulder presence and continue forward. Keep doing this until you have gone through every part you can think of—head, nose, chin, toes, left knee, wrist, chest, pelvis, shoulder, left ear. You get the idea.

Purpose

When you lead with a body part, you will discover that it actually makes you feel differently. It gives you an instant character. This is a great tool to help you make character choices that wouldn't normally occur to you. After you do the exercise a couple of times, do it over and make character sounds that feels like the character you have embodied. Then, as a third challenge, actually bring each character to words: Start talking in character.

 

Breakfast

Lie down on the floor. Without words, create a character (perhaps using the body part exercise) who wakes up, gets dressed, and gets ready for the day. Have each moment evolve, learning more about the character as you go along. How does that character brush her teeth? What kind of clothes does he wear (which might depend on his occupation)? Is the furniture in the bedroom brand new, old and shabby? Where does she live?

After getting ready for the day, have the character prepare and eat breakfast, again paying attention to details like preparation, speed, and type of food, given the character. After breakfast, have the character do what he would do to leave the house or apartment. Does she need a coat? Does he need car keys or a bus pass? Does she wear a hat? Details help you create a physical world that tells the character's story. Take your time with each object discovered, com­mitting to its weight, texture, and use.

Purpose

This is about character discovery through committing to a detailed environment. You will spend time with each element of the environ­ment, using the location and objects within it as a tool to tell your character's story. I am bad at this exercise, but have seen others have much success with it. I hope you are one of them. With the same attention for detail in mind, you could set up infinite scenarios for characters in subsequent exercises. Have your character arrive at work, go to the park, and so forth.

 

Object Monologue

Write the names of twenty objects on slips of paper and put them in a hat or bowl or bucket or Tupperware. Launch a character mono­logue of your choice. Every once in a while, grab a slip of paper and glance at the object written on it. Continue the character monologue as you integrate the object into the scene: not so that you focus on it or talk about it, rather that it is incidental or used to accentuate the content of the monologue.

Purpose

More practice with creating an environment and with reaching out into the environment while improvising the scene. A common mis­take for beginners is merely talking about the environment or the object they are holding. Practice in having the environment be inci­dental is invaluable.

Next are some exercises to improve your scenic improvisation.

 

Scene

Sit in a chair in the middle of the room. At any point, launch into a dialogue with another character. Immediately respond as the second character and continue the scene. With your first attempts at this, you may become self-conscious and tempted to stop. Overcome this temptation by timing yourself and making yourself continue for thirty seconds. As you practice, the length of time you're comfortable with may increase.

This exercise is easier if you make the two characters as distinct as possible. Whether or not you'd like to physically shift your body during this dialogue is up to you; if it helps you, go for it. I think of this exercise as a vocal-mind-momentum thing.

Purpose

This exercise challenges you to keep two balls in the air at once. At first, the exercise tends to bring about simple question/answer scenes. As you practice, your scenes should get more complex, giving each character a distinct point of view. In improvising a reg­ular scene with two improvisers, it's tempting, if not probable, for one improviser to think of what to say next while the other is talking. While this is often inevitable and not even bad or wrong, taking on both of the characters, as this exercise forces you to do, allows you to know the world of truly being in the moment. It's great to know that you can do that.

 

Scene with Emotional Shift

This exercise is the same as the previous one, but each character has a different emotional base. One character might be angry, the other giddy. Practice playing the extremes of emotions, as well as subdued expressions of emotions. Some improvisers will yell at top volume when they are playing anger; others will lock the emotion in and quietly whisper through clenched teeth. Depending on who you are, you may tend toward extreme outward expression or hold it in and

let the emotion out a bit at a time. Both are valid ways to express anger, but practicing the one that is less comfortable for you is truly beneficial.

After you feel confident in this foray challenge yourself by declaring the more gray emotional states, like jealousy, indifference, and angst. For a greater challenge, improvise a scene by yourself where the characters are distinct, but share the exact same emotional state.

Purpose

Anything you can do to stretch your emotional range while impro­vising is valuable. The emotional states you can pull from, and the way that you play those emotional states, will inform many an improv scene as to what it's about and the characters' points of view. Most people stay within their own comfort range when it comes to emotion; opening that up now will bring you great rewards later.

 

Scenes of Status Shift

Improvise a scene by yourself, as before, but instead of emotion, shift between high and low status. Start with a distinctly high-status character (e.g., a professor) and a distinctly low-status character (e.g., a student).

As you create more scenes, muddy the line between statuses until you create two characters with nearly the same status. Even though you are improvising a scene alone, watch as the two charac­ters vie for the upper hand in the scene.

Purpose

Many, many, many improvised scenes are about status. It's a powerful thing to know how to play. Status and point of view go hand in hand. Either a character is trying to get more status or is fighting to hold on to their status or lying about their status. Status is often what the scene is actually about. Practicing all the permutations of status will help you when you come across it in a scene. Improvisers also tend to make the same choice: either high or low status, each time they improvise. Analytical people tend to improvise in high status, often objectifying what's going on in a scene. (I used to be this guy, so I'm really aware of it.) For example, one character says to another:

"Let's go play in the sandbox." The other character might say:

"OK, Billy, I'll bring a shovel." or objectify the experience by saying:

"You play in the box and I'll watch."

Objectifying is often clever, but it sets you outside the scene, commenting on the experience, as opposed to playing within the experience. The objectifier usually takes on a high status role. Some people find more strength in creating higher status for themselves in scenes; others get a lot of mileage from low status. The ability to play from either status, or everything in between, is the best possible tool to have. Think for yourself which status extreme you tend to play more, then challenge yourself to play the opposite.

 

Heightening

Stand. Start a scene, with words. Doing only one characters dialogue, heighten your own character's point of view. Pretend there is another character speaking gibberish. Constantly put fuel on your own fire, adding to and heightening the energy or point of view you have already created. Pause for the other improviser's "dialogue." For example:

Me: That's a cool-looking dog.

Pause

Me: Three-legged dogs are rare.

Pause

Me: Damn thing's name is Rexy?

Pause

Me: It's standing next to a cat with one ear.

Pause

Me: Never seen a green cat and a three-legged wiener dog.

Pause

So you get the idea. You just keep improvising your half of the scene, bringing more and more to your initiation.

Purpose

Even though improvisation usually involves two or more people, improvisers must learn to bring heat to their own initiations. This exercise will help you maintain and heighten your own thing, while sustaining your ability to filter anything else that happens in the scene, or anything your partner says and does, through your character.