Improv Comedy and Deleuze

Early on in this course I became interested in linking Deleuze’s work to improvisational comedy, which I have been studying now for about a year and a half. Using Deleuze as a way to better understand Improv first occurred to me at the beginning of the class when we were discussing Nietzsche, and specifically the idea of a "new image of thought."

The mind itself that is used during an improv set creates a new way of thinking. It is a Group Mind, made up of all the performers on a team, which has no choice except to think immanently. There is no room for a priori notions. Even if every performer walks into the theatre with their own beliefs, once they got on stage this will be alleviated assuming they following one of the guiding principles of improvisation – “yes, and.” This rule ensures that a performer agrees to the reality of the world, and then contributes something of their own. With “yes, and” performers are able to agree quickly, and in doing so explore the world they have invented on the stage.

The task of the improviser while building a scene or a show is very similar to Sanford Kwinter’s description of Kafka’s writing: "The task of Kafka the writer was perhaps no different from that of “K.” the land-surveyor in The Castle or the accused in The Trial. It was, on the one hand, to chart the topography of this peculiar emergent world, to discover the laws of how things combine, and on the other, to trace by trial and error the mysterious principle of its functioning. But at the same time no sketch or figure is anywhere offered up, unless it be on of those deliberately scrambled and inscrutable images like the officer’s blueprints for the inscription apparatus in the Penal Colony. For in Kafka, the task is no longer to trace the visible form of the world by recourse to an external schema or representational mode, but to somehow espouse its very substance, to become of the world by becoming one with it" (107).

Improvisers have no choice but to live in the world that they create, since its creation is happening in the moment, on stage, in front of an audience. One of the attributes that I find most appealing in a strong performance is commitment to the scene. There is nothing that turns me off from a performance than ironic detachment. That is to say, when a performer doesn’t fully commit to the actions on stage, and rather than taking part in them, describes them in an attempt to get a cheap laugh. A note that is said constantly in classes and rehearsals is to make the scene more active. By making it active, we become one with the world in much the same way as Kwinter describes it. We are able to explore the world more fully, and are able to find the connections, trace the principals, and chart the topography of the world we have created from moment to moment, and from scene to scene.

A huge part of improv is about making connections. This happens on many levels of an improv set. At the theatre where I have been studying, another principle to scene work is called “game.” Simply put, it is the unusual pattern of behavior that is organically established within the scene, which is where the humor of the scene derives. Once the game is established it continues to be played throughout the scene. This does not mean that the game should lead the direction of the scene, in fact quite the opposite, the relationship between the characters should the direction of the scene, and the game will occur naturally.

Connections are not just found within the scenes, but in the set as a whole. The form that is primarily taught where I study is called the Harold. Quickly, the Harold is as follows:

1. Suggestion from the audience

2. Opening based on suggestion (this can be anything from a word pattern game, to monologues, to a sound and movement exercise) – all of the scenes that follow are rooted in this opening, this is where performers pull their initiations

3. Three separate scenes in which a game is established (again, all of which are rooted in the opening) 

4. Second beats of those same three scenes with the same game heightened (second beats can either be the same characters at a different time, or an analogous scene with new character playing the same game … either way the game should be heightened)

5. Third beats, same scenes, very short, heightened further. Often times all the scenes will mesh into one during the third beats

As an audience member, I find that the most satisfying Harolds to watch are the ones where all three scenes seamlessly come together in the third beat. These connections are certainly not preconceived. They occur organically as the set becomes its own entity and are brought together through the group mind. This is an example of the smoothing out of a striated space, which I feel often leads to the most interesting art.

A great improv set has an aura about it that I have experienced in few other places. I believe it creates a new image, a virtual image. The beauty of comedy, and particularly improv, is that nothing is untouchable. We are able to work with taboo topics, and pair ideas, thoughts and images that ordinarily would not be combined. The outcome varies greatly, but at times it creates a virtual image and an interaction with that image that is unique for players and audience members alike.

-- Jake

Film Shoot

Last week I worked on a film shoot that documented a person’s entire day – from 5 AM on Thursday morning until 5 AM on Friday morning. The shoot took place during the subject and filmmaker’s birthday. The idea came from James Joyce’s Ulysses, in which every chapter is a new hour of the day, and so for every hour we had a new cinematographer come and film him. The same thing was happening with his wife and son, so we had at least three cameras going at all times.

I was in charge of making sure that the handoff of shooters happened smoothly. We tried to make the transition as smooth as possible. While Camera A was shooting the subject I would prep Camera B and give it to the next cinematographer. At the turn of the hour Camera B would shoot Camera A for one minute, at which point Camera A would turn to Camera B, Camera B would turn to the subject, and Camera A would be turned off.

Although we tried to make these transitions smooth, the time-based nature of it made the day full of striation. This was in part a technical necessity (batteries and SD cards cannot shoot for 24 hours), and also an artistic choice. Being the person who was in charge of these quick changes I became uncomfortably aware of the time. For a full day, every hour became an ordeal for me, an event. Sometimes these events were more stressful than others (did people show up on time, are we in the middle of the city, how many empty SDs cards do I have in my pocket right now), but they all happened with the same amount of time in between. I was affected when I finally tried to go to sleep by popping my head up on the hour, expecting to have to do something. My body had become used to the rhythm.

The inevitable outcome of the piece, was that it became a film about making a film, rather than an average day (which is what was expected). Of course, the subject is a filmmaker, so the nature of the day is not entirely unusual. One thing that I really noticed about the piece was how it brought together a community. With 45 shooters come in and out over the course of the day -- all of whom were somehow connected to the filmmaker, and most of whom were artists – I watched the world that surrounded him meld together. Many of the shooters would have three shifts (one on each subject) with an hour break in between each one, so they would be around for 5+ hours. People would hang out at the house on break, and stay late, as a community of artists gathered. I found the scene very inspiring.

One of my moments of the day was when all three subjects (as well as their three shooters) were in the backyard. Mom and Dad followed closely as their 14-month-old son ran around the yard. Once the shooters had their angles they stayed close as well. So the outcome was 6 people moving in unison, all moving in rhythm as a cohesive unit, as a toddler led the way kicking a ball as he went.

-- Jake

Response to Hansen

A new artform that has emerged recently emerged is Alternate Reality Games. An ARG is an interactive role-playing narrative in which players use various mediums to engage in a story that is told in real time. These games are rooted in the Internet and digital images / videos, however I think it is difficult to deny the immanence that exists in the participation. Although there is always a creator and a group of people leading the game, the story is being told in real time, by the players (anyone who wants to participate). Immanence also comes in the way that the users access the content. The content is often hidden and the users have to solve puzzles in order to access it. So everyone will find the media at different times, through different means, and often in different orders. Each player’s experience has a different “aura” around it.

This sort of digital art certainly includes moving images, however the image is not at the center of the piece. I do believe, however, that the moving image can be the central focus of Internet art. It will no longer cinema, or at least cannot be experienced the way that we are used to experiencing cinema, in a passive state. This would be ignoring the nature of the beast. It is not to say that cinema as we know it is obsolete, this is just a new form emerging.

As Hansen writes, “What we will discover in the process is that the frame in any form – the photograph, the cinemematic image, the video signal, and so on – cannot be accorded the autonomy Deleuze would give it since its very form (in any concrete deployment reflects the demands of embodied perception, or more exactly, a historically contingent negotiation between technical capacities and the ongoing “evolution” of embodied (human) perception” (8).

Recently, I have been conceiving of new ways to create video work for the Internet. One of these experiments is to live stream improvisational comedy sets to the Internet. Rather than just having one shot though, the viewer would have a chance of 5 cameras (a CU on each of the three actors, as well as a wide shot and a second camera that would be moving through the space to create two-shots). Each actor would also be mic’ed with static microphones as well, so the viewer can create their audio tracks as well. The interface of the website streaming the video would make it easy for the viewer to change the shots / audio and create their own cut of the piece as it is happening live. This is just a starting point, but the idea is to give everyone the opportunity to create their own experience as they are viewing a creative work.

--Jake

“The Smooth and the Straited” in Improvisational Comedy

Longform improv is, in it’s nature, the creation of a smooth space or thought. The performers walk onto the stage with no a priori concept of what will occur. Ideally, improv is free flowing, the humor arrives organically through grounded human interaction, as opposed to forced jokes and gags.

As it is practiced, however, it is inevitable that improv becomes striated. The moment a performer walks into a theater and is told “you’ve got 20 minutes” the line (the act itself) is suddenly trapped between two points (the externally dictated beginning and ending of the set).

Furthermore, most teams do go into a set a specific form that they will be using. I don’t see this as a bad thing, necessarily, or something that takes away from the essence of improvisation. These forms are barebones structures. They do not dictate the action, so much as give a sense of order and mutual understanding to the players and audience alike.

Many of my favorites moments both performing and watching improv is when the barriers created by the forms are mangled, disrupted and broken down over the course of a show. These moments can come from a player recognizing connections within the set or, often more satisfying, unintentionally finding them.

These moments are the smoothing of a striated space. And this is typically the type of art that I enjoy the most.

I have always been a fan of structure, even though I don’t necessarily like to follow it. No matter what the craft is, I think that it is important to have an understanding the most commonly practiced form. As a filmmaker I think it is important to understand Hollywood screenwriting and conventions. This does not mean that I want to make the next Bourne Identity, but I do think that it is extremely important to understand the system I am working in, and in understanding it finding creative ways to break out of it. This is where I personally see the fun in art, seeing a challenge, whether it is the tools I am using or a set of parameters, and finding a creative means to expand.

--Jake

Forever for Sale

Our discussion the last few weeks on the commodification of art is the central idea behind a piece of art I recently heard about on the NPR program “On The Media.” The following description comes from Caleb Larsen’s website on his piece “A Tool to Slaugher and Deceive”:

Combining Robert Morris' Box With the Sound of Its Own Making with Baudrillard's writing on the art auction this sculpture exists in eternal transactional flux. It is a physical sculpture that is perptually attempting to auction itself on eBay.

Every ten minutes the black box pings a server on the internet via the ethernet connection to check if it is for sale on the eBay. If its auction has ended or it has sold, it automatically creates a new auction of itself.

If a person buys it on eBay, the current owner is required to send it to the new owner. The new owner must then plug it into ethernet, and the cycle repeats itself.

(http://caleblarsen.com/projects/a-tool-to-deceive-and-slaughter/)

In this piece the raw material from which the “Art” is created is created is the commodification itself – the transactions. If not for these transactions it would be nothing more than what Larsen describes as “just a collection of parts.”

The piece is interesting to think about in light of last week’s essay “What Children Say.” It is certainly “made up of trajectories and becoming” as it physically moves around the world every time it is purchased. And it will continue to do so in perpetuity, constantly becoming. This may be a rather crude and literal interpretation of Deleuze, but this piece (again, titled “A Tool to Slaughter and Deceive”) is nothing if not crude.

I’m still undecided on my personal feelings about it, but I felt that it is a worthwhile work to discuss given our current discussions, and am certainly interested in everyone else’s thoughts.

-- Jake