Like many of life’s interesting turns, it was a purely random occurrence. I rented an Airbnb from a lovely lady in Gloucester, Massachusetts, last summer. Seeing my Maine license plates, she mentioned that her son has just moved from Los Angeles to Portland. “Oh, that’s funny. My son lives in Los Angeles now. What does your son do here?” I ask. “He teaches improv,” she says. “Really?” I say. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Ramiro Castro, left, and Rachel Austin, members of a University of Chicago improv group, rehearse for a performance in 2005. Kate Reilly has been taking classes at Get Up & Go Improv in Portland since last fall. Brian Kersey/Associated Press, File
So, it’s nine months later, and I’m hooked.
Improv offers me multiple unexpected benefits. It’s disruptive and challenging because it calls for stepping outside one’s comfort zone. How far outside? Well, it’s up to you to mostly but, for at least a short few moments, you can be in the freakin’ Twilight Zone. You could be getting a pedicure from a guy spouting Shakespeare or arguing the morality of stealing from the drugged-up patient in the dentist chair or swapping stories about your shared therapist with the guy you just met in the elevator. That’s all improv!
If you know anything about improv, you may be familiar with the “yes, and …” rule. Whatever crazy or unexpected line is uttered by a colleague, you run with it … somewhere, anywhere, and here’s where it gets interesting. Conflict works in improv. It makes things spicy. Because once the conflict is established, you are both thinking about how to bridge toward a resolution – how can we move forward from this place together? And how can we do it quickly to keep everyone’s interest for the brief duration of a scene? Certainly, there are some relevant life lessons here, right?
Yes, improv can often be funny, but, as I’ve learned, this isn’t the primary goal. Rather, connecting with your fellow players is what it is really about. And if that turns out to be funny – which it often does – it’s doubly satisfying.
No doubt I’ve met some folks in my class who I would not necessarily encounter in my admittedly limited life as a retired septuagenarian. And I love it! I love that the setting and the purpose of improv require me to find genuine connections to these fellow explorers. I’ve heard completely unfamiliar references that I now will understand when I next read or hear them. And vice versa. Thanks to me, there’s a young man walking around Portland today who can now quote Popeye’s friend, Wimpy: “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.”
In class, I am encouraged to create intriguing characters, giving me free rein to mimic annoying personality traits of people in my life like the former co-worker who always asked me a million questions but never listened to my answers. I can imitate the vocal fry of a super-bored-sounding social media influencer trying to peddle some ridiculously useless product. I can even channel a long-deceased family member who still lives in my memory by speaking in his funny Bronx accent.
And let’s not forget to mention the brain work! It’s the essence of improv to bring all this to life with no prep time or script to memorize. An audience member shouts out a random location – a weather station at the South Pole, in line at the movies, the dressing room at TJ Maxx – and off you go! Layer on top of that only being allowed to speak in three-word sentences, or just using words that begin with the letter “M,” or doing the whole scene as if you’re in a Broadway musical, and it really gets the old synapses firing.
Yes, sometimes I feel self-conscious and silly for doing something like this at my age. But then I think yes, and, maybe making improv training a prerequisite in life is the path to world peace!
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