Recently Gloria's question about conflict and remaining happy-healthy-sexy in scenes and popped into my mind.
Learning the happy-healthy-sexy guideline was a real watershed moment for me in my very earliest lessons. Jordan hits the nail on the head when he says,
Rev. Jordan T. Maxwell wrote:especially in the beginning, our inclinations tend towards the negative. because we think conflict is automatically drama or cynicism is automatically clever. because anger and sarcasm are easier to access and less vulnerable to play than joy or love or people just relating to each other in a totally normal way. because we tend to look out for ourselves more than our partners. because being aggressively negative about something puts us in control of the scene.
When I watch improv, if there's something rubbing me the wrong way, I can often chalk it up to some lack of happy-healthy-sexy. Further, the most uncomfortable scenes I've been in could have been saved with a good dose of hhs.
I still quite new to improv, and I still struggle with being happy-healthy-sexy on stage, but I recently had an epiphany about using games to remain happy-healthy-sexy in the midst of a conflict scene. These ideas will probably not be new to the old heads, but it may be useful for some of us newer folks.
Here are a few things that have helped me and that seem to help others when they are on stage.
**Give yourself something when you come on stage - a walk, a sound - and let that be your offer to yourself, or your "thing" - the thing you do no matter what. Lots of teacher have said this, but Ch. 4 of Mick Napier's book has a really salient explanation of this principle. (...In light of the Level 6 Narrative class at The Hideout, perhaps this principle could be amended to: Choose some "thing" to be or do, and let that be your deal "until one day" a change happens that is so drastic you are compelled to stop. Then let THAT be the issue at hand - your drive through the show to get back to a state of being able to do your "thing" again, or your realization that you are better off without your "thing.")
Of courses, you can let anger/disgust/hurt/frustration be your initial offer to yourself (that seems to happen a lot). But maybe, to start off in a happy-healthy-sexy manner, you could play with making your initial offer for yourself be a positive feeling towards the other character. That way, no matter what you are talking about, you are talking about it through the lens of admiration, love, awe, shy interest, or some other positive feeling. It seems like you intensify the emotional weight of a conflict because its imbued with your love/admiration/curiosity for the other character rather than your inherent, unexplainable antagonism. (This reminds me of the party scene game where each character selects other characters to feel love/fear/loathing/curiosity towards.)
**In her elective class several months ago, Kristen Firth taught a game that helped us latch onto character traits rather than conflicts. First we moved around the room like animals. Little by little, we took on more human qualities until we were humans richly endowed with some eccentricity. From that point, those quirky humans did scenes together. This was such a successful exercise. (Having seen the transformation from animal to human, we knew how each improviser was inspired, but had we not seen it, it would not have been obvious that, say, a particular character was inspired by a ferret.)
I remember that Paul Normandin and a woman (I can't remember who) were endowed as a tiger and a mouse. Paul's tiger turned into a growling, brooding, pacing human, and the mouse into a quiet, meticulous human. I don't recall what their scene was about, but Paul's character, which visually took up more space and energy still managed to be low status to the mouse; it may have even ended up that she was his boss. I can't quite remember the plot, but it was a really charming scene between two interesting characters who forged a bond with each other primarily through their personality quirks and not through conflict. Since then, I've seen this game played at Maestro and Fancy Pants, and it's always a hit.
**More often than not, the 30 seconds of silence game fosters the emotional connection between people, especially when those people are maintaining eye contact for much of that time. Even when the scene includes an argument, it's always engaging because the characters are emotionally invested in each other. I really love this game, and I know a lot of others do too. Maybe it allows us the time to think and observe each other at a more natural pace and less like People Who Frantically Make Things Happen On Stage.
**The game where characters must lock eyes when the music is on and look away when it's off is also pretty good for creating an emotional connection.
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This reminds me that games truly are the foundation for strong, enjoyable, emotionally engaging, non-game improv. If you can do powerful scenes in games called "Act Like and Animal" or "30 Seconds of Silence," or "Look at Each Other When the Music Plays," why not use those same principles in a show that is not, on the surface, a game show?
When our teachers remind us (me?) to slow down and take our time, maybe we would do better at this if we could translate their advice into "play 30 Seconds of Silence in the middle of this scene."
Likewise, if a teacher reminds us to come on with a strong character, we could translate this into "give yourself a 'thing' to be or do, no matter what" or "play Act Like an Animal for this entire show." And if you have a penchant for getting unhappy-unhealthy-unsexy really quickly, why not decide that your quirky animal-inspired character will also have some positive feeling about the other characters on stage?
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Ok, now I'm just thinking out loud, so this is going to be tangential to the above information, and it's quite possible I'll change my mind in a few minutes...
Discussing the use of games in non-game shows reminds me of conversations I've had about gamey versus realistic or grounded improv. I've long thought this was a non-issue and that games and grounded improv were two sides of the same coin. I like them both.
Ultimately, I prefer engaging montage and narrative shows over pure game shows, but I love, love, love montage and narrative shows that are strongly rooted in game principles. I love being able to see a game being played successfully in the middle of a non-game show. At Dickens last night, for example, eight or nine characters on stage worked together to name all of their siblings in order from oldest to youngest. This was just "Talk in One Voice" put to use in a narrative show. Nice, nice!