‘This show is just for you’ - Improv on TV
“Everything in this show is completely improvised and made up on the spot. Nothing is written or prepared beforehand.”
We read disclaimers before TV shows and films all the time, and by and large we trust them. For the most part, we don’t need to question them, or suspect that the channels or the production companies are trying to pull the wool over our eyes. When it’s TV time, and you’re getting comfy on your sofa at 2pm on a Wednesday (come on guys, you are) you don’t feel the need to be suspicious of two lines of script on a black screen giving you very simple and easily digestible information. TV wouldn’t hurt you like that; TV is your friend.
Streaming on Netflix now is Middleditch & Schwartz, a 3-episode improvised comedy special. If you’re reading this improv blog, it’s incredibly likely that you’ve seen it, or at the very least you know that Thomas Middleditch and Ben Schwartz are improvisers not purveyors of organic peanut butter. If you are an improviser and you haven’t watched it yet, you should ask yourself why. I don’t say this to chastise or patronize. Have you not watched it because you just haven’t got round to it yet? Or have you not watched it because you’re scared it will be terrible? If it’s the latter, you’re in good company. Not only do most regular people think that a long-form improv TV show will be terrible, in fact most improvisers think that too.
Just take that in again for a moment: a long-form improv TV show. To be clear – this has never happened before, with the exception of UCB’s Asssscat, which had a one-time special on Bravo in the early 00s. Even allowing for that exception (which we should even though it appeared on Bravo) M&S is still the first long-from improv TV show in 15 years! And it’s on f*ing Netflix!
Yet I still haven’t heard that many improvisers, certainly in the UK, loudly championing it. Some improvisers, in fact lots, are skeptical. Well, who could blame them? Ours is a much-maligned art form, and those that love it have become extremely protective of it. After years of an industry telling us that we can’t possibly do the thing we love on television because people won’t buy it, the natural response is to believe that ours must, therefore, be an art form that can ‘only work in the room.’ The alternative is repeatedly smashing your head against a brick wall.
Long-form improv is a live art form. But what is really the difference between improv and other forms of live entertainment like, say, stand-up which has enjoyed decades of televised success. Some will say that improv can only be enjoyed in a packed, buzzy room (remember those?) where you can feel the kinetic energy, the danger of the unknown, and there being little room to doubt that this ‘show is just for you, never to be repeated.’ Whilst there is some truth in this, it’s also a cop-out, a stick used to beat improv.
Those who love improv have always known that it does not necessarily need the audience’s fear, the high-wire promise, in order to be successful. Great improv is simply great comedy.
When a combination of comedic minds are focussed on listening, responding and building towards the same goal, this is when you achieve unique and brilliant results. Then, the surprises that you get are ones of joyous discovery, not the surprise of ‘wow, they didn’t fall over!’
The great fallacy that surrounds improv is that the danger of it failing is what makes it good. The danger of something failing wouldn’t make anything good. Imagine applying the same logic to literally anything else in the world. When improv is good it’s because it is skilful and connected. Yes, there is tension from the fact that the performers don’t know the show they are about to perform, but the joy that comes from this tension is a bonus, and the connection it create between the audience and performer is a helpful springboard for creativity; it is not, though, a prerequisite for quality improv.
Why then has improv persisted in being comedy’s mistreated stepsister for so long? I think it comes back to the issue of trust and widespread skepticism. It’s here that perhaps a well-received Netflix special from two Hollywood-approved poster boys of the art form may lead the way. First of all, it’s just good. It’s really, really good. Second it’s on Netflix, and that mainstream stamp of approval is a hugely valuable badge of honour. But the most surprising aspect of the show, and something Netflix and the producers – and indeed Middleditch and Schwartz – deserve great credit for, is that they trust improv. A simple disclaimer at the top, and a clear and concise description of what the show is from the performers. That’s it. No flashing sirens or smoke and mirrors. It’s not treated like a magic show, or a game show or a freak show. It’s treated like a professional comedy show.
It doesn’t seem like much does it? Yet this simple act of faith from those in the industry with power is something that has been denied improv for decades. This trust allows the audience to appreciate it for what it is (Great Comedy) and does a tremendous amount to polish the image of an art that has been left with a dirty face and knees after years of toiling in the basement.
Is Middleditch & Schwartz the best improv I’ve ever seen? Doesn’t matter. Not only is this a foolish question to ask of a one-off from any craft, it’s especially redundant of improv where shows are utterly ephemeral and resistant to comparison by their very nature. Is it one of the best things to happen to improv? It could be. I’m certainly very excited about it, and as someone who lives and breathes this art form, it makes me feel very hopeful about the future.
Even if there’s never another mainstream televised long-form improv show, at the very least, its exposure on a platform like Netflix could lead to a whole new generation of people discovering ‘prov and being driven to seek out intimate and remote pub theatres filled with brave purists dedicated to this ‘only-to-be-enjoyed-live’ performance art. See? It’s a win-win!
There will be lots of people (and lots of improvisers) eager to criticize and take pot-shots at M&S. Yes, it’s two white guys, and diversity is still a huge issue in improv. But improv has had a big mountain to climb, and it seems churlish to highlight the flaws when there is so much here to celebrate. There are still many challenges ahead for improv - not least the diversity issue - and especially now at a time when legendary theatres are closing down in the US - oh and this whole having to stay at home thing. For now, though, if you love it as much as I do, why not enjoy the fact that for tonight at least, improv shall go to the ball.
Graham has been improvising for over 14 years. He began training at the renowned UCB Theatre in New York. He has also studied under David Shore in London and is a founding member of the award-winning Austentatious, and co-founder and Artistic Director of The Free Association. When not improvising, Graham is an actor and writer.
**You can see Graham Performing in:
Sweet FA, The Badge, Jacuzii, I’m Not Here to Make Friends, Rad Party, Important Art and more**
