A defence of “yes, and”
Chances are, when you first learned to improvise, the first thing you were told was “yes, and”: say ‘yes’ to any offers, and add something of your own. In its most basic form, a scene in drama refers to a series of actions taking place in a continuous time and place, so the idea that you should agree on what’s true about the world and then do stuff in it seems fairly obligatory, right?
Well, as The Improv Chronicle Podcast reports in their latest episode, more and more improvisers are questioning the supremacy of “yes, and” as a concept. How often do we literally say “yes, and”? Isn’t that confusing? Do we really have to agree with every statement made by our scene partners? Isn’t that boring? Can’t improv be more complex? Check out the episode here for more on this topic.
I enjoyed the discussion on the Improv Chronicle, but there are a couple of things I’d disagree with. Firstly, I don’t hold much credence to the idea that it’s ‘too confusing’ being told to “say yes, but not literally”. How much of a challenge is it to explain that saying those exact words isn’t always necessary, but that’s the spirit with which you should approach offers?
Secondly, I actually think literally saying “yes, and” can be a hugely valuable exercise. I wouldn’t do it onstage, but there are plenty of drills which aren’t meant for performance but help you as an improviser. Being forced to start each line with “yes, and” makes you accept what the other person has said and add something to it. Sophie Pumphrey makes this point very eloquently on the podcast — exercises feel clunky, but they embed good practice, and for beginners, that kind of guidance is really valuable.
Should we ask que- I mean, we shouldn’t ask questions! Should we?
There’s a wider conversation here than just “yes, and”. Rob Norman brings up the idea of asking questions in scenes, saying that he often has to teach newcomers to his courses that asking questions is okay, after they’ve been banned from doing it in other classes. I don’t personally refrain from asking questions in my scenes and I don’t think that asking questions is necessarily a bad thing to do. Plus, that sounds like an annoying thing for Rob to have to go through.
However, rules like “don’t ask questions” and “say yes, and” exist because following them makes improvising easier. Regardless of the content and what it might offer in an improv sense, parsing a question takes ever so slightly more time and mental effort than parsing a statement, so having to respond to a question just makes your job as an improviser a little bit harder.
Does that mean we should never ask questions? Well, no. The fact that something is difficult doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. The existence of shortform games like Questions Only points to this — it’s literally a training exercise to make you better at parsing questions in improv and asking questions which add something to the scene! However, when we’re teaching beginner improvisers, putting rules on what they do helps reduce their workload, so they can focus on just the basic elements of building a scene with another person. This is the purpose behind rules like “don’t ask questions”, and “yes, and” is no different.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen plenty of examples of people saying “yes, and” and doing bad improv. However, the counter case that several opponents of “yes, and” present isn’t all champagne and roses. Sure, you can have good scenes where the characters disagree about what’s going on, or have an argument about what to do, or don’t progress the action, or don’t even say anything — but I’ve seen plenty more scenes where each of those choices completely ruin the fun for the performers and the audience.
All of these approaches are tricky to navigate and have a higher rate of failure. That means that when they go well, they’re all the more impressive to an improv audience, and because they allow more freedom to act ‘realistically’, they can be more compelling even for the improv muggles. However, if you’re teaching ‘best practice’, or helping beginners to see what works and what doesn’t, rules which discourage those behaviours simply make it easier to learn.
You might be thinking I’ve done a decent enough job of defending the concept of rules and feedback in improv (or not, fight me in the comments), but despite mentioning some pros and cons of it as an exercise, I haven’t addressed whether “yes, and” is actually the best expression of the Golden Rule of improv.
Is there a ‘best’ rule?
For what it’s worth, I believe there’s no perfect phrase you can use to make someone grok how to improvise. To paraphrase the Tao Te Ching, the truth that can be told is not the eternal truth, the way that can be named is not the eternal way. All you can do as a teacher is continually point towards what it looks like, run exercises and sidecoach scenes to create circumstances where it can be experienced, spot things which block it and work out how to overcome them.
The other downside to treating “yes, and” as a sacred and all-applicable rule is, as Sophie points out, that it can lead to a weird culture of “you have to go along with the crowd” outside of scenework and in the wider improv community. Improv should never be a tool for forcing people to attend your shitty show, or let you get away with gross behaviour.
As such, treating “yes, and” as a sacred and inviolable law isn’t helpful, but I don’t think the goal is to replace it with a different single phrase. What I’ve found most helpful as a teacher and a student is having the same core message expressed over and over again in myriad different ways, and I think “yes, and” has stuck around for so long because it works on a bunch of levels — you can do it literally, sure, but you can also dig into what it means to say “yes” to something in a more esoteric way. There’s also, as Ben points out, a hefty dose of tradition. God knows, improvisers have a million different names for shortform games, longform formats, philosophies, moves (or offers (or gifts))… so the fact that “yes, and” is so ubiquitous might be a sign that there’s something to it.
Why you should say ‘yes’
I’ve got one final defence of “yes, and” over other Golden Rule expressions, including Ben Hall’s “accept, exist and contribute”, which I think got overlooked in the podcast discussion. I believe “yes, and” reflects the inherent value of playing characters who are enthusiastic and positive.
In improv, we’re playing characters, not just being ourselves, but our experience onstage is aligned with what the characters are experiencing. If your scene partner is being aggressive, you’re experiencing aggression, even though it’s directed at a character you’re playing, and that isn’t a pleasant experience regardless of whether it’s a good scene.
Sure, with practice, you find it easier to separate yourself from the character and think about what it looks like from the outside, but I don’t think that alignment ever truly goes away — and I think that’s part of what makes good improv so compelling to watch, right? That’s part of the process-as-product which Ben Hall touts in the episode, which I totally agree with.
Especially for beginner improvisers, playing a character who likes being in the situation they’re in and likes being with the person they’re with makes the task of creating a scene much easier and much more enjoyable, which in turn makes the scenes being created more entertaining. While I certainly don’t believe that every scene has to be cheery and light (in case you don’t know me, one of my shows is a dark comedy-drama about relationships, which critics have described as ‘brutally real’ and ‘incredibly sad’ — in a good way), in general I think it’s far easier to create a joyful experience for audiences and performers by portraying joyful people.
Being yessed is why we improvise
As experienced improvisers, it’s easy to forget how intimidating the prospect of improv is to a newbie. Any creative expression leaves you vulnerable and when that’s unfiltered and in the moment, that’s doubly true. So many of the benefits we proclaim for improv — for confidence, for self-expression, for mental wellbeing, for feeling included and part of a community — come from having your contributions and by extension your very existence and value as a person acknowledged, accepted, valued, cherished. To me, that’s a huge reason why improv is so appealing, and any alternative phrasing of the Golden Rule should carry that torch.
