Improvisation is a lot like life, and that is why I love it so much. It burns into existence for such a short time and then it is gone. It is something very special for those who observe it, and has little to no impact on those who weren’t part of the experience.
Last night, the Mustache Rangers had a pretty amazing set at Improv a Go-Go. The Mustache Rangers are two space adventurers from the 1920s that Corey Anderson and I created to play improv with. We’ve been playing these bumbling and immature characters on stage for a few years in the context of an ongoing serial space adventure. But we shook that up a bit last night.
At a very special Improv a Go-Go, we decided to do an improv set as our characters doing an improv set. We had not idea how it would go, and I was actually jittery as we were getting ready to take the stage. I haven’t felt nerves like these for quite a while.
It is no use describing the funny things that happened in the set. Unintentionally and spontaneously, we stripped the skin off the structure of improvisation and lovingly poured lemon juice on it. Our intention was only to do bad improv as our characters, but it came off as so much more.
The consensus of the crowd seemed to be that our improv set was fantastic. And certainly that was the reaction of the audience. But I don’t want this post to be about a pompous prick slapping himself on the back, so let me continue.
Improv last night was a wonderful personal experience. Corey and I went onto the stage with an idea that could have been a terrible disaster. We were on stage with nothing and created something. And now it’s lost with time. It is art that can’t be hung on a gallery wall, but it is warming my heart right now. It’s making me smile and it makes me happy.
Improv has rarely felt this free to me. While we bared ourselves up to a crowd, it felt like we were wrapped in a warm blanket and no harm could come to us. We were safe. We could let all of our worries go and have fun. Which is what we did.
It was a great experience that won’t ever be reproduced. We might have more fantastic improv sets, but none will be the same as this. While each improv set is unique, this particular set of “doing bad improv to expose improv to show that we love it” is an idea we can’t even attempt to repeat. It isn’t going to be fun or funny or spontaneous for a second time. The very concept and its success showed, in a very exaggerate way, why improv is unique and special to when it happens.
These are awfully high and heavy feelings to come out of the idea of going on stage and doing improv badly. And I’m don’t want you to think that I’ve exposed some great improv truths. I haven’t. These are all truths that are out there. I had just forgot them. And it feels great to find my way back through a most unexpected way. Isn’t improv, and life, great?
Moments of pure bliss: Booneybaum struggling to understand why he could no longer buy the electromagnets, then later when he discovered all he had to do to end the umbrella walking scene was clap his hands. It was even more bouffon than improv, it was gorgeous, Aric.