Improv’s PR Crisis
Photo by Javad Esmaeili / Unsplash
Improv has a PR crisis.
Its public perception has deterred folks (maybe even you!) from trying it.
It boils down to three reasons:
Improv is only for comedians.
Improv isn't portrayed as a vehicle for growth (I call this Improv's Insidious In-Joke).
Improv is cringeworthy.
These reasons comprise what I generally call Improv's PR Crisis. They stop most people from attempting improv and growing as communicators.
Improv is for Comedians
There's been an unfortunate coupling of improv and improv comedy.
Improv, as a practice, is a set of principles and ideas around effective and authentic communication.
It can be comedic.
It can be a means to achieve comedy.
Improv is not, by default, comedic.
I attribute a large part of this coupling to a little show called Whose Line Is It Anyway?
💡For the record, I do enjoy Whose Line. I appreciate it as a celebration of improv (unlike other shows... more on that later).
It's probably the thing people think of when they hear the word "improv". But Whose Line doesn't necessarily translate to what improv is (as opposed to improv comedy) or the benefits of practicing it yourself.
Whose Line took the comedic elements of improv and heightened them to a raucous level.
But this wasn't done by the strength of the improv alone.
This was done by a carefully-selected set of games, mechanics, performers, and formats. Games were selected to encourage physicality, audience participation, and general goofiness - traits that played well on television. Mechanics were selected to play to the performers' strengths (think Wayne Brady's singing or Ryan Stiles' Carol Channing impression).
Performers were selected based on their veteran experience and on-camera prowess.
It's a variety show whose format happens to be short-form improv.
And it's a comedy show - its purpose is to make the audience laugh, not showcase the personal growth elements of improv.
I would argue the show, more so than any other medium, is responsible for the unfortunate coupling of improv with comedy.
Granted, the most popular form of improv is improv comedy.
Comedy theaters offer improv courses. Improv shows put on at colleges, festivals, and elsewhere are all improv comedy shows. Such establishments frame improv as improv comedy.
No wonder there folks assume improv and improv comedy are interchangeable.
There is hope though.
Improv's Insidious In-Joke
Hugely popular television shows display improv in a negative light. They poke fun at the problems of improv groups, troupes, and performances.
What's insidious is that it's largely an in-joke. The writers on these shows are graduates of the very improv practices they are lampooning.
Audiences are smart enough to recognize this. But there is truth in jest.
Does it leave the audience thinking, "Wow, improv really is a tool for growth!" or does it leave them thinking, knowingly or otherwise:
"Does improv have cult-like behaviors? Do I want to be part of that?" (Bojack Horseman)
"Oh man, if I go to an improv course there may be a jerk like Michael there..." (The Office)
"If I perform, am I going to have to deal with belligerent, bigoted audiences or improvisers?" (Broad City)
Improv is criticized by the people who have reaped comedy success from it without insidious or in-jokiness too. Veteran improviser Lauren Lapkus straight up says most performed improv is bad.
To be fair, I don't think she's wrong.
Her take is that there are "so few people who can succeed doing it." But what does she mean by success? Getting famous via improv, not personal growth. Lapkus makes the point that if someone's first experience with improv is a bad show, they're a lost cause.
But what if this aversion to improv happens even earlier? What if it happens because of an exposure to Improv's Insidious In-Joke?
There is hope though.
Improv is Cringeworthy
Why is attending an improv show an act of heroism?
Improv is marketed as a comedy springboard.
As a way for potential comedians to pay their dues.
As a line on an acting resume.
If improv is a means to such ends, public performances suffer. Performers start to sacrifice the ensemble and the principles of improv for themselves and their own careers. Veteran improviser Mike Birbiglia wrote and directed a great film on exactly this tension.
When publicly performed improv becomes more about pursuing greater comedic achievements than performing improv, something breaks.
Too many improvisers pursuing glory-through-improv is how improv got labeled as cringeworthy.
You're no longer watching an ensemble work together to produce a show.
You're watching eight individuals try to steal the spotlight away from each other.
Going to an improv show is now an act of heroism - the courageous pursuit through exposure to secondhand embarrassment and selfishness.
Strangers attempt to be funny for a potential agent in the room.
Performers search for laughs, instead of finding refuge in improv's tenets.
They focus on themselves, not the ensemble.
And audiences can sense this.
They can sense the desperation emanating off these performers. The performers compromise integrity for a laugh in case one of Lorne Michaels' lackies is lurking in the dark, scouting the next big SNLer.
There is hope though.
Solving Improv's PR Crisis
Improv and improv comedy are intertwined, stopping potential practitioners from getting involved due to being "not funny enough."
Improv's portrayal in the media is too tongue-in-cheek and insidious.
Bruh, improv is cringe, no cap. 💀
Is there hope for improv to break through its negative PR and shine as a method of personal and professional growth?
I think so.
There is hope in improv in private.
Business-performer hybrid types such as Kelly Leonard and Bob Kulhan have taken it upon themselves to clearly define the benefits of improv in "the real world." There's a reason why we've seen a blossoming of corporate improv.
Improv is no longer a means to an end for them. It is the end.
It is a tried-and-true (and fun!) method of practicing empathy, adaptability, leadership, and listening.
C-suite execs who take their courses aren't interested in landing a role on Superstore.
They're interested in empowering others.
In listening more actively to their team.
In helping people become their best selves, including themselves.
Through improv in private, corporate or not, we take focus away from the performative and place it on the personal.
We're not doing improv in the hopes to impress an NBC lackey in the back row. We're doing improv to reap the benefits of improv. We're doing it to play in the communication playground.
Kulhan and Leonard helm Business Improv and Second City Works, respectively. They, as seasoned, business-savvy improvisers, have identified, acknowledged, and actively combatted improv's PR crisis.
They use improv techniques, not improv comedy techniques, to tackle communication challenges for MBA students, executives, and entrepreneurs.
They dispel Improv's Insidious In-joke by celebrating its transformative power, onstage or in the business world. They, as performers, tout it as something that has changed their lives for the better - as something that can change their workshops' attendees lives for the better.
Their workshops are rooted in improv in private. There's no audience. No one can steal the spotlight. No one's there with an agenda to get a voice-acting role on Big Mouth. They're there to learn and grow through improv.
Practitioners of applied improv, like Kulhan and Leonard, recognize improv's potential.
It's not comedy.
It's communication.
MBA students, executives, and entrepreneurs wouldn't take - or even pay to take - improv courses if all they thought they were getting out of it was a few jokes.
They take it to improve their communication, their adaptability, themselves.
Improv's PR Crisis is slowly being solved.
It's moving away from the misconstrued notion that it is a cringeworthy practice designed to make audiences laugh on the way to greater comedy goals.
It's no longer a means to an end. It is the end.
