I went to a show by the Secret Improv Society this past weekend, which performs in an odd theater building near Union Square. It’s only the second time I’ve been to a professional improv performance, and I was struck by how special the experience is.
I would stay up past my bedtime in middle school so I could watch the late night reruns of old Whose Line is it Anyway? episodes. They were a formative part of my humor, and planted a seed of improv appreciation. We had a high school, and college, improv troupe that I saw once or twice. In college I also went to a Comedy Sportz show with Erin.
Near the end of college, when I discovered Mike Birbiglia, he came out with the movie Don’t Think Twice, which is a beautiful homage to scrappy improv troupes, and a fantastic drama in its own right. This solidified my appreciation of improv, and of small-market entertainment more generally.
Through all of this, while I’ve only rarely participated in proper “improv” myself, I have gained a solid understanding of what makes improv good, and what the role of the audience is as an additional cast member during a show. This relationship between audience and cast is unique to improv, and is one element of what makes improv shows an intimate affair.
There are multiple levels of experience as an audience member. First is the traditional role of someone to be entertained. You can sit back and passively enjoy the show, just like at more standard venues. Second is actively participating — something that any good improv show actively encourages to happen in a supportive way. Shout out suggestions, perhaps even volunteer for a game; you are part of the show if you choose to be, and that is an engaging realization. Third, you get to be a member of an audience for the audience. That is, in a moment where you are not shouting something out, or a game happens where anyone can shout something at any time, you are simultaneously experiencing the possibility of participation on your own, and enjoying everyone else in the audience who is participating.
These experiences combine to the most obvious, and most important, part of an improv show: each one is unique and will never be repeated. Sure this is true of many musical performances, stand-up as well, but not nearly to the same extent. Improv shows are unique in the way that sports games are unique: there’s a very small set of initial conditions to send things off, and then everything changes over time. The cast responds to the audience, playing off gags they came up with, and the reverse happens as well. You leave confident knowing that, by design, what you just saw belongs only to the cast and that particular audience.