Breaking improv out of a comedic aesthetic
What if how we view improv now is just a comedic aesthetic and not representative of the entire medium
In recent years, I have been thinking about how to get non-improv audiences to see improv. More often than not, once you've exhausted friends and family, your audiences essentially boil down to those practising, learning, and performing improv.
It's a challenge that all scenes face at some point, and while there is no one particular reason for this, part of it can come down to detached irony.
Usually, in shows, characters are more intelligent than the world they're in, spotting contradictions and inconsistencies or being unaffected by the world around them.
This is one of the charms of the medium, but it's a double-edged sword. While it's enjoyable for improvisers, it makes it more challenging for those unfamiliar with the medium to get into it.
I was looking for an example to illustrate this, and this piece on brain rot from The Etymology Nerd (who I originally came across their work via a guest post they wrote for User Mag) resonated with me.
I recommend reading the entire piece, but for those unfamiliar, brain rot refers to low-quality internet content and how constant exposure to it makes you dumber.
While the piece discusses language, culture, and how context determines how we view them, I think the quote below is worth considering.
(Note: all text that is bolded and italicised was done so in the original piece)
“Brainrot” is “brainrot” because it’s a comedic aesthetic referring back unto itself. Skibidi is more than skibidi: it’s part of a deep canon of irony knowingly parodying itself as an example of what it means to be “chronically online.”
Part of the in-joke is that you can only understand brainrot if you’re also “chronically online,” able to connect the words to the shared internet folklore you’ve consumed. This means that you, too, are brainrotted, adding a layer of self-awareness to the aesthetic.
Since its inception, the internet has progressed through dozens of layers of irony. Millennial lolcats were followed by dank memes making fun of pre-existing memes; dank memes were followed by absurdist and deepfried offshoots that continued to poke fun at their predecessors. Brainrot is just the next step.
I think comedic aesthetic is a good way of defining it. When an aesthetic refers back to itself, it requires more effort from an observer to decipher what they're seeing so they understand the joke.
That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's worth remembering that improv has a habit of doing this more often than not.
Part of the challenge with improv is that it's already a medium that refers to itself and parodies itself and other mediums.
While there's an argument that improv isn't as familiar as other mediums like TV, standup, theatre, or films, to name a few, there's still a buy-in required for it, and it's greater than some might realise.
When there's an element of performers being above what they're doing - an extreme example is performers telling you this is silly, but it's okay because not only are they in on the joke, they’re a step ahead of you - it means extra layers for an audience to sift through. Like any inside joke, if you're not in on it, it can be confusing.
If you're a performer, it's worth keeping in mind where the humour and comedy is coming from. Is it from the reality you've created or from a detached perspective?
The term improv describes the medium, which is unscripted, but it doesn’t define the style in which we perform or present it. Considering the above is a small thing, but it could open up more styles and approaches that make the medium richer.
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