Comedy Drama, Dramedy, Comama… Bananarama? What genre is your show and does it matter?
This has been written in dialogue/as a response to this excellent post by improviser Aree Witoelar. I confess, I felt seen. What it articulates well is that unique point in a comedy drama show that sometimes occurs, a scene where you’re not quite sure what genre you are sitting in. You can feel it’s not comfortably moving either towards the funny or a meaningful dialogue, but you’re in that scene now and you can’t ‘fart and run’ (thanks, Susan Messing).
I mean, if I was playing Devil’s Avocado*, I’d argue that improv is a process art, one where we invite the audience into a space to watch us take risks, and that therefore failure (a scene where you tumble into the uncanny valley) is part of that deal. I like watching someone navigate the tightrope (and the tension of them potentially falling off/succeed spectacularly). But this article isn’t about that (and I don’t want to get into a discussion on ‘the cult of failure’ here), it’s about comedy drama, or dramedy, or comeramamalama-ding-dong.
For a soundbite, I’m going to say very broadly I feel that: comedy plays game, drama plays relationship. I improvise in both modes, and often (at least to some extent) in the same show. I feel the reality is we’re always somewhere on a spectrum, whether it be at one end, a sketch packing as many laughs as possible, or at the other, a tense dialogue between two people with different points of view. But as always with art, I think it can be not committing to something (whether that’s scene or show) and not elegantly navigating the tightrope that can make us watch and have that gut ‘ugh’ reaction.
Our last show, The Grand Cosmopolitan Hotel was much more towards the comedy end, and we knew that from the start (which you can see because I’ve written that in the show copy submitted months before the actual performances). We used elements of farce, lots of character games, and situations heightened for humour. Comedy llama!
Whereas our latest show, Glory Days, was much further towards the dramatic. It had humour in the character monologues, but as we got further into the run, it found its feet more in the heat/weight of the reunions. Because it was a shorter devising process, and we were deliberately navigating the tightrope more precariously (‘where is the tipping point? How far can I lean this direction before I fall?’) it was harder to play (and consequently market the show too…) Comma drama!
The difference in tilts
How do you tell how far along the comedy-drama axis you are in a show or in a scene? (Beyond explicitly knowing or saying ‘this is a comedy’ or ‘this is a drama’) How can you end up with one show in a format being much sillier than another? What happens when you find the tone based on the feeling/atmosphere in the room?
In one scene, Erica and I are talking about her job. I ask what she does and she (recognising it is going to change the heat of the relationship, and therefore the weight of the scene) says quietly she has got a job in the City (London). She knows this is going to pinch/’ouch’ my ethically-motivated character and I know this is drama, so I play the relationship and berate her for selling out. Drama llama!
If this had been a comedic scene, I might have responded in an unexpected way, ‘THE City? Like the big one?’ (recognising the synedoche and playing it up) and the scene would have tilted in completely the opposite direction. But the shape of the show didn’t support that, everything we had set up suggested that this was the turning point, the real summing up of everything that was different about these characters despite their shared university and organisation experience. (Very early on, I unplugged the fridge worrying about energy use, she plugged it back in because she wanted a cold drink, and I unplugged it again. A funny bit/very small game that told us about their differing outlooks.)
A few shows previously, the tone of the show was much lighter, we set up character games very early on and we continued to play into a kind of tragicomedy narrative based on the perceived successes/failures of the characters. The negotiation took a bit longer, but I think we managed not to land in the uncanny valley because we played the quirks of the characters, therefore signposted the show towards comedy (I played Mary Beard at one point, who no matter what evidence would always claim it was a Roman artefact.) It was however, much harder to land a satisfying narrative. Comedy banana drama!
Conclusion
Aree concludes by saying that ‘Good improv comedy and good improv drama are both worthy. Just be aware of the valley in between.’ And I know I’ve fallen into the valley before, making scenes an extended negotiation between two improvisers who don’t really want to be on stage anymore. But I would add that in comedy drama, I think finding that place in the landscape is the joy of being an improviser. Feeling the energy in the room, and daring to not just perform live, but also navigate the tightrope of truly not knowing how this particular show will play out.
*Credit to my cast mate Erica for this phrase.