Characters move seamlessly (theoretically) from their own language into gibberish and back again at the whim of a caller in this short-form stumper!
The Basics
A scene is played using the local native tongue. When an offstage bell is rung, the current speaker must immediately continue speaking their dialogue in gibberish. The scene continues until the bell strikes again, and players revert immediately into their own language, whether they were mid-sentence, mid-word, or possibly mid-consonant blend! Several switches occur at increasingly swift and inconvenient intervals.
Example
Two roommates (Players A and B) stand over a sink-full of dirty dishes, a constant source of conflict in their apartment.
Player A: “I’m sure it’s your turn to wash them.”
Player B: “Can we really say it’s my turn when you clearly haven’t washed a dish in weeks…?”
Player A: (crossing to the fridge) “Let’s consult the…”
A bell rings.
Player A: (continuing) “…sha ni kaleeny.”
Player B crosses behind A and scrutinizes the same chart.
Player B: (irritated) “Panicko fla kaleeny eep…”
A bell rings.
Player B: (continuing) “… and now you want to consult it. You are so…”
A bell rings…
The Focus
Strive to have the relationship and story develop in both language modes.
Traps and Tips
1.) Leave room for each other. Over-talking is a perennial issue in these types of games and can make it really tough on your caller if they’re trying to really follow and help polish the natural ebbs and flows of the scene. Avoid just launching into random gibberish whenever the bell prompts the change. Honor the established give and take: whoever was currently in focus, actively speaking, or just about to talk should probably respond first to the bell. This discipline also allows the caller to strategically torture or challenge (or typically a bit of both) specific players and moments that are particularly ripe with passion and potential.
2.) Make the gibberish matter. Another common evasion is for the gibberish content to serve as little more than an empty placeholder or stalling tactic. So, if Player A starts accusing B by saying, “You never do…,” and is belled into gibberish for a few made-up words and then back into their native tongue only to complete their offer with “… the dishes,” the audience will likely (and understandably) feel cheated. A related yet admittedly less prevalent trap is to suddenly burst into passionate gestures and staging in the gibberish sections only to return to mundane talking heads afterward without justifying or acknowledging those prior huge choices. A helpful technique to address these temptations is to…
3.) Hold onto your narrative thread. I find it extremely useful to keep the logic of my dialogue loosely running in my mind as I leap into and out of gibberish. This is rarely a word-for-word literal translation, and in some ways, over committing to this level of fidelity might rob you of some wonderful surprises and non sequiturs. But if you have a general sense of your character’s driving want or point of view, you’re much less likely to have your gibberish just uselessly taking up stage time. So, in this way, to repeat the brief example above, a sentence that might start as. “You never do…,” may become completed as ‘…a new roommate,” when the Gibberish unexpectedly ends. Now the audience – and your fellow improvisers – experience the delightful fun of filling in that gap for themselves.
4.) Explore different patterns. There are inherited comedic bits I could list here for the caller (bell ringer), but don’t rely on gimmicks in lieu of finding and disrupting your own games. Consider belling in various places on the dialogue – between sentences, words, or within a word itself, as I describe in my definition. Changeup who is in the hot seat – it can be fun to throw the focus onto one particular character for a while, or perhaps help someone craft a more sizeable speech act or monologue with multiple switches. Alternatively, facilitate a quick exchange of short sentences or utterances, or help the improvisers keep out of hot water by expertly belling them out of potentially crude insults or language. In short, general caller etiquette applies. On occasion (when I’ve forgotten to bring a bell with me usually!), I’ve played the game with someone saying “switch” or potentially even naming the active language. I always return to the elegance of the bell, however, as it is a quick, clear, and easily understood signal that promotes hair turn shifts and justifications.
In Performance
I’m entering my fifth year of writing these entries so it’s getting harder for me to track which stories I have and haven’t told! But I can’t write about this game without thinking about a rehearsal for Making It Up at Louisiana State University over twenty years ago. The inspiring prompt was a zoo, and as the scene started, the two human characters spoke in English while two actors embodied grunting animals behind them. When the bell triggered the change, the humans moved into gibberish (as expected), and the two animals started talking delightfully in English (as not expected). This discovered pattern continued back and forth for the remainder of the scene.
I’m not advocating copying this organic find, but rather reminding us all that we shouldn’t forget that within a prescribed short-form game, other fantastic, unique, and complementary games can and should emerge.
Have I mentioned I’ve written a book – The Improv Dictionary – for those of us who take our improv fun seriously? Find out how to get your copy here.
Cheers, David Charles.
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