The Pros of Nonfiction Openings

started grounded, get absurd later

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash

I’m going to occasionally have guest columns in this Substack. If you want to pitch one, send me a few sentences of what you’d write about and what improv teaching/performing credits you have at will@wgimprovschool.com. Today is a guest column by Celia Gurney. She is a teacher at WE Improv who trained at UCBTNY and later founded an improv collective in Paris (France!). You can catch her onstage with her indie teams In Retrograde and Sabotage. 

I moved to LA about a year ago. Since then, I’ve seen and practiced a lot of Harolds. Now, let me be clear: I’m by no means a Harold-performing expert compared to many in this town. But I am, at the very least, a Harold-opinion-having connoisseur. And here’s my strongest opinion about Harolds at the moment:

They should all start with nonfiction openings. 

What the hell do I mean by nonfiction openings? I mean openings where the performers are being themselves, not characters, and where they or the audience share real-life anecdotes, associations, feelings and beliefs. As far as I can tell, that means monologues, living rooms, pattern games, or audience stories/interviews. Nothing else.

“WHAT??!!!!!” you’re screaming. I know, I know. It’s a bold statement. I might get banished to Santa Monica for this. But bear with me — I made you a listicle! 

WHY ONLY NONFICTION OPENINGS FOR HAROLDS?

• They fit with the structure of the Harold. This one’s for all you logicheads and mathheads out there. The Harold starts out more grounded and becomes more absurd. Therefore, the opening should be the MOST grounded part of the show. If we make it up, it’ll probably have absurd stuff in it because we’re improvisers and we can’t help ourselves. And that kind of ruins the graph now, doesn’t it??

• They get the audience on board. The audience comes in skeptical. If they don’t do improv, they probably think improv is bad (i.e. not grounded, nonsensical, not funny). If they’ve done enough improv, they know most improv really IS bad (because it takes a long time to get good at and even the best teams don’t bat 100%). So we need to convince the audience they’re in capable hands — that the performers in front of them are smart, charismatic, interesting and mature people (in some ways). Then they’ll be willing to stick with us as we exit reality. 

• They’re the most likely to get real laughs. Which are ultimately the laughs we want, right?! Not rhythmic laughs, supportive laughs, polite laughs, or laughs of recognition (“I see what they did there” or “I know that technique”). Those laughs have their place — we’d feel like constant failures onstage without them. But what we’re really going for are involuntary laughs. The ones that bubble out of people. And those generally come when things feel specific and true in a surprising way, and when nobody’s trying too hard.

• They’re the most likely to make the improvisers laugh. While generous with their supportive laughter, improvisers are actually a tougher audience than the audience themselves. But it’s in everyone’s best interest for them to laugh — like, really laugh — in a Harold opening, because it means there’s an idea they’re excited to play with. Something’s making their brains ricochet off in all sorts of zany directions. And how much more fun is it to do (and watch) improv when that kind of energy’s flowing?! The inherent truth, specificity and groundedness of nonfiction openings  makes them most likely to surprise and delight jaded improvisers.

• They exemplify what’s special about improv. Adult life can feel so socially siloed and stagnant. You have a set rotation of people you see regularly, like your coworkers, your friends, maybe your family, roommates or a significant other. Interactions with strangers are brief and transactional or mediated by an app. Sometimes it feels like…where’s the fresh blood? Is anyone alive out there?? What’s a girl gotta do to get some spontaneous connection and a sense of community??!!!

Improv shows are an antidote to all that, but only if there’s a real exchange between performers and audience. A suggestion isn’t enough. Sharing stories, opinions and beliefs is a real way of connecting and creating community, even if it’s fleeting. 

• They’re best for a show context. We sometimes use fictional and abstract openings as a way to challenge ourselves or mix things up. But the audience doesn’t need us to do those things. They just want a great show! And that’s harder to deliver when starting with a fictional or abstract opening. Fictional openings aren’t as grounded, rich and textured as real-life stories. Abstract ones don’t give us whole premises to latch onto and get excited about. And both are downright confusing for anyone who doesn’t do improv, which doesn’t exactly do wonders for us PR-wise.

• Top-tier shows use them. A lot of successful shows put on by experienced improvisers are “[nonfiction opening] + [improv inspired by that].” But I only need one show to prove my point: ASSSSCAT. I think it’s safe to say ASSSSCAT gets the biggest non-improviser audience of almost any show out there. It probably inspires a lot of people to take their VERY FIRST improv class! Why mess with what works, especially if you’re doing a challenging format like the Harold, and especially if your team is less experienced than the people doing ASSSSCAT??

Well, that’s it! This listicle is coming to a close. I look forward to your spirited counterarguments, though for the record I do draw the line at hate mail. Have a wonderful day and thank you for reading this interloper’s essay in Will’s newsletter!