Gratitude in Improv

Making the most of the gifts you receive

This time of year in The United States, we like to give thanks, to show gratitude. Thanksgiving also includes a tradition of gluttony, which isn’t great considering all the starving going on. Still, generally, I think the idea of setting aside time to appreciate the people and things in our lives is helpful for all of us.

As improvisers, we have a lot to be grateful for.

We give and receive “gifts.” We help each other build things. Lots of energy is spent on other people when we do improv. That means that when other people do improv with us, we receive that energy, the gift of their attention and efforts.

How do we show gratitude for not just for the gifts in the scene but the gift of our brilliant scene partner’s collaboration?

The ways we instinctively try to show gratitude to our scene partners in improv scenes can make doing so particularly tricky. We may try to give them the reigns to make the world first or define our character, but this won’t really help the scene. Those efforts to show gratitude can often make it feel like we’re not pulling our weight, but sometimes adding can feel like we’re steamrolling and not letting our scene partner do enough.

Mick Napier writes about this in his book Improvise and settles on an approach that boils down to “Take care of yourself first.” This is good advice (this is also a very reductive boiling down of this piece of advice, please read the book if you wish to know more about the context, which there is a lot of). This approach works for a lot of people; I do not condemn it.

But, I find what clicks for one improv student may not resonate for another, so here’s another way to think about this balance through the lens of gratitude; Make the mosts of the gifts given to you.

In life, one way people show gratitude is by making the most of something. Let’s say someone buys you a guitar, and you want to show them you appreciate it. You might play it and practice a lot. If someone is paying for your education and you appreciate it, you try to get the most out of it and get good grades to show them you take to opportunity seriously; that you are grateful.

In improv, we can show gratitude with every yes and move.

Agreeing wholeheartedly with a reality shows our scene partner that we are grateful for what they brought to the scene. Adding to it in a way that respects what they said is a way to say, “I appreciate what you did so much, I’m going to add to it too!”

Adding too much can be seen as steamrolling. I find this approach helps to strike a comfortable balance.

Add information in a way that shows your scene partner you are grateful for what they added and that you are happy they are there. Like we do in life, take what someone did and do your best with it.

Conflict is a natural element of the scenes we do. We work to get past it, but ultimately a difference of opinion is baked into a lot of comedic scenes and premises. Characters being in conflict makes it difficult to show gratitude in a scene.

I often see that before folks learn game, they have this natural tendency to force conflict in an attempt to illicit a fun circumstance. Watch an intro class show at any theater. Most of the scenes will be conflict based.

Disagreement is a shortcut to solidifying where our character stands and what’s happening in the scene, and when we start improvising, we cling to it like someone learning to swim clings to the edge of the pool.

If our scene partner says, “I love silly hats, I’m wearing one to the billiard parlor!” Alarm bells go off in a new improviser’s head; THAT’S AN UNUSUAL THING! Those alarm bells are valuable. We need to be able to clock unusual stuff; that’s an essential skill.

That alarm often leads to the next thought, which is, Well, I guess I’m the voice of reason then! Which makes us say something like, “Ronald, can’t you just not wear your silly hats, even for one night of billiards.” This is a fun scene that I would want to watch, but it is conflict-based.

Conversely, our scene partner may say something like, “Darling, I can’t find my keys.” Well, that’s a normal thing to say. We think UHH OHH! No one is laughing! Someone has to be unusual, and it certainly isn’t this keys missing fellow calling me darling! This may lead us to say something like, “I, have your keys, Reginald, and you shan’t get them back till you eat your roast beef!” Again, great fun scene, but it’s conflict-based.

Conflict and disagreement aren’t bad for improv scenes when they are well managed. My point is that they are pervasive. So, when we want to show gratitude, sometimes it can be challenging because the characters we are playing are at odds with one another.

Saying, “Well, of course, Ronald, I’ll put on my silliest hat for billiard tonight, Silly hats!” would also start a scene I want to watch. That sure would avoid conflict, at least until you need to figure out whose hat is the silliest.

Also, consider that even if you don’t like Ronald’s hats, there is no reason why you can’t help him find his hats while you discuss what you dislike about them. Just because you don’t like the hats doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want Ronald to be happy.

Don’t ever feel the need to force the conflict, as the improviser did in our second example with their darling’s keys and the uneaten roast beef. Always be willing to wait for something unusual to come up organically.

Maybe someday I’ll write one of these about conflict.

We continue down the trail of conflict, winded and thirsty; a rustling disturbs the forest brush. As we look for what made the noise, we see we have found our way back to the forgotten clearing of gratitude.

I find the best way to show gratitude in a big conflict scene is to concede now and then. Fight your point, play your game, find more silly hats for billiards, look for your car keys or make another pair, but every once in a while, really let something your scene partner says hit you and stop being unusual for a hot sec. Say, “Ohh hey, gee whiz, I see your point, I sure was acting unusual, wasn’t I? Thanks for showing me the light. I appreciate you. I don’t ever want to get so unusual again.” Then, wait a little bit and get all sorts of usual again.

Or from our examples we found on the trail of conflict, “Wow darling, you’re right, I really shouldn’t be driving until I’ve finished my roast beef, thanks for taking care of me, I was just so hungry and wanted to go bowling so bad.” Then sit and eat roast beef. Eventually, eating roast beef will get tiresome, then you can try and get your keys again.

Or, “You’re right, everyone at McGinty’s pool hall will think I’m a fool with this hat on. I just wanted everyone to see that I had extra income to spend on fancy hats. I don’t like it when I get like that; thank you for talking me down.” Then, get your billiards things together until you find some other way to be flashy and prove to the patrons of McGinty’s pool hall that you have extra income.

My point here, in case it wasn’t clear (I know it’s not, that’s why I’m clarifying), is that your scene partner, even in a conflict scene, is not your enemy. They are someone who loves you, doing their best to put up with your nonsense. That probably also applies to anyone who you are frustrated with on the reg. Except for Corey Bockman, fuck you, Corey Brockman.

But seriously, think of all the relationships you have where you love the person, but sometimes you are frustrated with them. That’s probably damn near all your relationships. If you think those people are never frustrated with you, you’re wrong. And that’s ok. The fact that we frustrate people, and they still stick around means that there is stuff about us that is good enough for them to put up with our sillies.

People don’t fight their way out of relationships they don’t care about; they just leave. Your scene partner in a conflict scene is fighting for you. A lot of times, all a conflict scene needs is for you to just say out loud, “I know that I am being unusual, and I see that you are here fighting for me. I am grateful for that, thank you.” Then get back to your scene.

In fact, here’s a little improv exercise:

Two people up, give a suggestion. Someone starts the scene with an opinion. Then the other person takes the opposite stance. Make sure to make it clear that the people arguing like each other. Duke it out for a while, make arguments, debate the topic. At some point, have a coach to teammate say, “Be grateful.” Then just one person pauses the argument and says how much they love the other person.

Say thank you to the person. Say you know you were acting silly. Just practice pausing an argument in a scene and telling the other person you appreciate them.

Medium mode: Justify why you cared so much about the thing. Give a reason why you were arguing so hard while you’re being grateful.

Hard mode: Justify and establish a Who/What/Where while you’re being grateful.

(This exercise is a modification of one Will Hines used during a class I was in. The purpose was to practice keeping friendly debate and conflict funny. Thank you, Will Hines.)

While we’re on the subject, I have to mention that any performer who has an improv theater, practice space, or online group to call home has a lot of reasons to be grateful. It’s not easy to keep theater spaces running and communities healthy, especially now. Whether you’re aware of it or not, someone, likely multiple people, is doing work to keep that space you’re playing in together.

Improv doesn’t have a banner track record of making theater owners a lot of money. Charna Halpern (who workshopped The Harold with Del Close, wrote “Truth In Comedy” and started the iO theater and so much more) said in a 2019 Interview With The New York Times, “One thing I learned early on: It’s not about the money. It’s about your army…”

Whether you know it or not, you’re part of someone’s improv army. The teachers and administrators of theater spaces give us a lot, and many improvisers wonder what they can give back.

If you want to do something to show gratitude to the space that you play in and the people who run it, ask yourself what you have to give. Are you good at bringing people together and planning events? Do you always have the sickest tunes? Maybe you have a ton of money and nothing to do with it? Perhaps you’re just good at being in a great mood backstage before a show.

Ask yourself what you can give, and do your best to add your best self to your improv space.

As a nation, we try to get together with those we love, kill a bunch of birds, and say what we are grateful for once a year. And though this holiday has problematic roots, I think taking a look around, assessing what we are thankful for, and letting people know every once in a while is a great idea. It might be a good idea for us to stop our scenes every once in a while, look our scene partner in the eye, and tell them, out loud, that we are grateful for what they are doing. Moments like this just might help us return to our daily lives, or our scenes, with renewed perspective about why we do our best for those around us and help us make the most out of what we are given.