A confession...

[kbadr]

There no mistakes, but if I pick up a hammer and use it in a scene and then disregard it entirely, the only way that lack of consistency is "not a mistake" is if I'm doing a scene in a universe where objects periodically flash out of existence. This universe is, by the way, a short skip and a jump away from Crazy Town. I would rather make the choice to be in that universe than be obligated to be there to justify my sloppiness.

[ratliff]

If you have previously decided that your scenes all have to conform to some sort of agreed-upon reality, sure. It would be a "mistake" for someone in Cochise to do a silent dance scene in which one character morphed into another and back again. But there's not anything inherently wrong with doing that scene. It's a mistake only because the performers previously agreed on a framework that excluded it.

If you haven't made such an agreement beforehand, "mistakes" are almost entirely due to the individual improviser's perception. Conversely, if everyone agrees to accept everything beforehand, the concept of "mistake" loses its meaning. (And yes, so does the scene, sometimes, but that's improv.)

By definition, narrative demands a rigorous set of agreed-upon conventions, and genre imposes even more. So yeah, if you've set out to do something that specific, you've basically decided in advance to designate certain developments as mistakes. I don't know how else you could construct a coherent narrative.

[kbadr]

I'm not even talking about narrative, necessarily. I think calling all mistakes gifts is somewhat of an excuse for sloppiness. Yes, all mistakes should be treated in the moment as a gift, accepted, justified, built on, and used. But, to address Chris' original post, if I am consistently playing scenes in a universe where objects disappear because I am sloppy, I think something's gotta change. Same goes for names changing randomly. Sure, the character could just have a middle name that we're suddenly calling them by, or maybe they're tricky little bastards who are disguised as someone else...but sooner or later I'd want to make sure I actively work at remembering names better.

We will go back and forth about this forever and reach no conclusion and convince each other of nothing.

[ratliff]

We will go back and forth about this forever and reach no conclusion and convince each other of nothing.

I'm less interested in coming to a conclusion than I am in enlarging my awareness of the possibilities. But then, I still have magnets in my ears from my visit to the acupuncturist yesterday, so feel free to disregard my woowoo anarchomystic ramblings.

Sure, total acceptance can be used to justify sloppy work. That doesn't mean that one causes the other. Sloppy work is just a potential hazard that becomes a lot more likely if you've decided to be open to anything.

By the same token, coming out and defining everything at the top of the scene often leads to scenes with no sense of joy, discovery, or play. Is that a good reason to dispense with CROW(E) entirely? I don't think so.

I've seen plenty of horrible scenes in which the improvisers completely and totally accepted everything that happened, even (especially) "mistakes." I've also seen plenty of horrible scenes in which the improvisers rigorously established CROW(E), performed careful, consistent spacework, and called each other by the correct names throughout the scene.

Needless to say, I've also seen glorious scenes that fit both these descriptions.

Just because everything in a scene is tied up in a bow and justified doesn't make it good improv. In fact, those scenes are often derailed (sometimes permanently) by desperate attempts to justify a "mistake" that might have contributed organically to the scene if it hadn't been immediately called out and "explained."

You can practically smell the fear coming off improvisers when this happens, and my sense is that in most cases the whole audience is just waiting to get past the justification so we can get back to the scene. Whereas if the players had stayed with what the scene was about, they might have given themselves some space to find (instead of invent) what the "mistake" meant to the scene.

(Also:the justification will often get a laugh, but it usually does so at the cost of taking the audience completely out of the scene in order to appreciate the cleverness of the improvisers. Nothing wrong with that, unless you had something invested in the reality of your scene.)

By the same token, saying "There are no mistakes" is not the same thing as saying "Every scene is awesome." Every scene is not awesome. I just think there's almost zero correlation between a scene's awesomeness and how many "mistakes" there are in it.

[Jessica]

I often find my self holding space objects and not knowing where to put them. I will occasionally invent a space shelf to put them on as I leave the stage. Cuz, you know, I don't want them to break or anything.

What I really don't like is when I have something, and then it doesn't make sense in the scene and I just drop it (I usually throw it away behind me.) I don't like that because I should trust that it might come in handy later, or make sense later.

[jose]

THERE ARE NO MISTAKES

only unopened gifts

Hooray! I like that!

During a two-person Galapagos show, we decided to run to Wal-Mart.

I thought we would drive there and I opened the door of a car and hopped in while Mark was on the other side of the car already taking in the wonder of Wal-Mart.

I simply scooched over to the other side of the car and let myself out. From then on, it was understood that the car was a portal from our house to Wal-Mart - no explanation and justified only by our continued use of it.

It was sweet and pretty fun!

[kaci_beeler]

I think not being okay with the idea of "making mistakes" is a big problem with people in my generation. They can't handle small failures and problems.
Making mistakes and using them or learning from them is a part of life and a part of my improv.

[Justin D.]

I think not being okay with the idea of "making mistakes" is a big problem with people in my generation. They can't handle small failures and problems.
Making mistakes and using them or learning from them is a part of life and a part of my improv.

This leads to one of my favorite quotes.

"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."
Thomas A. Edison

I need to start thinking about things like that more often again.

[Frank]

I'm kind of clumsy in real life. Sometimes I'm not paying attention and I just walk into things, bump my head, stub my toe, etc. I've bumped into make believe stuff on stage, too. That's just how I roll.