After six years, WE Improv was able to secure its own physical space. Even better, the space is walking distance from my apartment and the monthly rent was equal to what I was paying to rent space for ten hours a week. It's near perfect. Except for Joey. Joey represents the "near." Joey and I have different wants.
The unit WE moved into was a retail space in the basement of an apartment building and the tenet living above the space was a much older adult named Joey who was adamant about tranquility and came down and banged on the door to complain the very first rehearsal we had in the place. There were four people, and it was a Sunday afternoon at 2:00pm. Not exactly a Friday night blow out. Joey made vague threats and would verge on irrate, but eventually after about fifteen minutes of conversation, he would relax and even exhibit some friendliness.
On one occasion, he came down in the middle of a show I was hosting on a Saturday night at 8pm and banged on the door. When I went to the door he said, "I came down to complain that your students kept me up until 10:00pm last night, and I locked myself out."
I spent the next hour working with Joey to get his apartment door unlocked. He didn't have the building manager's number, so I texted on his behalf. When that didn't work, I called a locksmith call center because Joey didn't seem to know how to search on his phone. When the operator asked for a callback number, I asked Joey to give it to me and I relayed the number. After hanging up, Joey asked, "did I say 87 or 78?"
"78," I said. And when he said he gave me the wrong number I called the locksmith company back. Then we waited, and he told me he had lived in the building for over twenty-five years, and he had never locked himself out, even when he just went to take the trash out and would lock the door. This will be an important piece of information later.
It's at this point in the story that most people go, "why did he tell you he locked himself out?" or "why didn't you just slam the door in his face?" Or "what is wrong with you?" The answer is I was carrying out the actions that I thought would get me what I wanted: Joey off my back.
I have little advice for character work in improv. It's not my strength. But what I might dress up as character advice is thinking about the existence of the character beyond the scene. Suspending your disbelief that these characters only exist for the purpose of creating a comedic scene, and instead accept that they have lived before we see them and they will live on after we edit. My "scene" with Joey was comedic because we both had wants and we both pursued them. Ask yourself what your character wants, and then go to W.A.R.S.
W.A.R.S. Is an acronym for my technique to keep a scene moving. It has been my experience that if a scene is stalled out, it’s because we’re missing one of the aspects of W.A.R.S.
W- Want. What is it that your character wants? This is not meant to be an existential question, or a complicated one. It’s simply what your character would want if they existed as an end in themselves and not just a means for the comedic scene. Wants can be specific. I want to get to work. I want to see my children graduate. I want to celebrate my partner’s anniversary. They can also be broad and universal. For this, I often refer to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. The psychologist Abraham Maslow devised a pyramid of human needs, with the base representing the most basic universal at the bottom and the most developed and acquired emotional needs at the top.
Maslow’s Heirarchy of Needs
I have found these needs to work with almost all improv scenes because they are human needs, so they are relatable even if you are playing a sand crab or a deflated basketball. If your want feels too specific, meaning you can't see beyond the one thing, then see which of these categories it falls into. You'll know if your want is too specific if you feel an inclination in the scene from you or your scene partner to avoid giving it to you, even if it defies logic. With the testy tenet, Joey wanted tranquility (rest and safety) and I wanted to run my business of improv (self-actualization, no big deal). Once we knew our wants, we had to take action.
A- Action. These are simply the steps you take as an improviser to get what you want. They do not have to be clever or unusual. Improv scenes need direction and movement. This makes them easy. When the direction is aimless or resistance is at the core, they can become hard. So once you identify what you want, start taking action. Not action with comedy in mind or action with your scene partner in mind, but action with your want in mind. Joey went downstairs to complain. I listened to his complaint. Joey tried to contact the building manager. I offered to help. I got Joey a locksmith. Joey asked for a fake key for his fake lock. These are all actions. Some comedic, some not. But the point is I am not going for laughs, I am going for my want. It is then the job of the improvisers in the scene to react to these actions, and in turn, react to their actions and reactions.
R- React. Improvisation does not require great acting, though it certainly helps, but it does require reacting. Let the audience know, and your scene partner know, that what is happening is impactful. Treat your scene partner’s line with the weight and gravity of a proposal or confession or threat. If you have a want, then every line your scene partner delivers can be assessed as bringing you closer to what you want or further away. Let each line hit you and then sympathize. When Joey knocked and disrupted my show, I reacted with frustration. When he said he locked himself out, I reacted with sympathy.
S- Sympathize. This is an umbrella term I use to describe both finding sympathy in your scene partner’s character’s behavior and in asking for sympathy and in expressing vulnerability. Remember, your character has a want and your scene partner’s character also has a want. When they are in conflict, take a moment to sympathize with the situation or your scene partner’s want. Apologize, reflect, ask questions, or open up about your want. Sympathy serves as an action. It’s you taking a step towards your scene partner and asking them to take a step towards you. It doesn’t mean you have to compromise, but it does mean you acknowledge that butting heads for the duration of the scene is probably not going to remain both surprising and inevitable. Joey and I could have argued for years. But sympathizing will surprise you and your scene partner.
That's how you go to W.A.R.S. It has been my experience that if a scene stalls out, it's missing one of those components. But a scene that rotates through them can go on indefinitely.
And so as not to leave you hanging, when the locksmith eventually arrived, he revealed Joey had what was called a "ghost lock," meaning it could be opened with any key. The locksmith used various spare keys to show Joey and I just how easy it was to unlock his door. So for twenty-five years Joey had a lock that was as secure as a bottle of beer. He found this out at the exact same time as his nemesis.
Finally, Joey couldn't find his keys in his apartment, so he had to ask the locksmith if he could have one of the dummy keys for his dummy lock. Joey came down to yell at me and ended his night finding out he had spent the last twenty-five years with a false sense of security, and it was all thanks to me: the guy he was yelling at, and the guy who knew his lock was fake.
Exercise
W.A.R.S.
Start a two person scene.
60-90 seconds in, the facilitator pauses the scene and asks the two improvisers what their characters want. It is ok if they don’t know at that moment. They can decide. If the want feels very specific, the facilitator can ask why and nudge them towards Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.
Then the facilitator instructs the improvisers to think of 2-3 actions they can take to get what they want. They are not to say them aloud, but to carry them out when the scene resumes.
Before resuming the scene, the facilitator reminds the improvisers to react and sympathize. The scene resumes.
The facilitator calls edit and then runs through W.A.R.S. With the improvisers, asking what their actions were, how they reacted and if they sympathized. It’s not a matter of calling them out for not doing it, but analyzing what it looks like when they do or don’t and how it affects the direction and movement of the scene.
Offer
When watching an improv set, look for apologies. Apologies are so rarely used in improv, but they almost always change the direction or break up a stalemate. After that, notice when scenes have all the components of W.A.R.S. And when they don’t and how it affects the scene’s momentum.
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