This exercise that explores the concept (and gift) of making small and obvious steps is pulled from my high school improv days with Dunedin Impro and so is likely the brainchild of Kieth Johnstone who infused much of our workshops in those days.
The Basics
One Player, A, volunteers to be the performer and stands before the workshop group. Another four players (or thereabouts) sit on the ground and become the “panel” while the remaining ensemble members form an audience behind their five peers. Player A prompts each new step of their action by asking the panel, “What happens next?” A panel member (perhaps working in order down the line) then offers up a small, connected, and obvious choice that Player A performs before pausing again to ask for another step in their journey. Observers in the audience (perhaps led by the facilitator) can “challenge” actions before they’re executed if they feel they are unhelpfully giant, needlessly random, or gratuitously over-original. If such a challenge is deemed warranted, a new step is brainstormed for the featured player to complete. The process continues until a natural and satisfying ending emerges.
Example
Player A stands “neutrally” in front the panel.
Player A: “What happens first?”
Player B: “You open the refrigerator door.”
Player A reaches in front of them to pull open an imaginary refrigerator door and then pauses.
Player A: “What happens next?”
Player C: “You reach for the milk carton on the top shelf.”
Player A performs the stated activity.
Player A: “What happens next?”
Player D: “Your cat brushes up against your leg…”
Player A reacts to the arrival of their cat.
Player A: “What happens next?”
Player E: “You drop the milk cartoon after being startled…”
The Focus
In large part, this is a storytelling and progression exercise, that embodies Johnstone’s “backwards-looking improviser” model where each new step can be determined by considering what has just occurred. Surprisingly engaging one-person vignettes can magically emerge from just following where the simple prompt can lead you.
Traps and Tips
1.) For the performer. Simply put, do what you’re told! Yes, you’ll want to bring your gifts as a performer to the part but be careful that you don’t overly complicate or add to the steps offered up by the panel. If you reach for something in the fridge before being told to do so, you are inadvertently editing a whole host of narrative possibilities – the light in the refrigerator might have gone out, or there’s been a power outage and you’re confronted by the smell of rotting food, or you’re a struggling student and there is absolutely nothing in the fridge to stave off your hunger. You don’t want to be an emotionless automaton who plods through the paces without any performance energy or value either. But seek to honor the “small steps” nature of the exercise and aim to concentrate on what you’re given and no more.
2.) For the panel. I’ve noted the points of concentration (to use Spolin’s terminology) above, in that you should strive to provide small, connected, and obvious moves for the featured player. Small in that they don’t condense bigger processes in a way that erases the chance of new smaller discoveries within the steps: “You grab some eggs and make yourself a cheese omelet on the stove.” Connected in that contributions don’t wildly shift the lens, mood, or promise of the scene or squash subtler potentials under their boot: “You put on your suit and go to work on your motorcycle.” And obvious in that you are seeking to react to the unfolding story rather than overtly manipulate it to a personal or predetermined end: “You find the taxidermized racoon on the shelf and stage a puppet play for your cat.” In many ways, you should never feel the pressure to do too much with your direction. Rather, it should just pick up where the prior action left off in a possibly unremarkable yet helpful way.
3.) For the observers and facilitator. This exercise tends to invite more frequent interruptions when the system is being modeled and practiced for the first time. Small, connected, and obvious steps sound like a rather simple mandate until you are actually tasked with achieving them with each subsequent addition. Don’t inundate the panel with intellectualized meanderings and minutiae – everyone’s obvious, for example, should probably be a little different so there’s not a lot to be gained from deep debates on that front. (The appearance of the cat, for example, could feel like a non sequitur for someone who doesn’t have pets, while the sound of the fridge opening luring Kitty into the kitchen likely feels very connected to someone who lives that reality on a daily basis.) The game also loses something when players can’t build any momentum between instructions or Player A is left in limbo time and again for epic discussions about subtleties. Utilizing raised hands and a moderator can help in this regard, so that if an outlier sees something small, that can be shelved for later consideration, in contrast to most of the room feeling like a move was too big or bizarre.
In performance
It’s standard protocol to check in with the featured improviser (Player A) at the completion of the scene, especially if some pimping or discomforting choices nudged them into awkward territory. If you’ve let a few more “minor infractions” slip by, the debrief can also allow for a less disruptive moment to muse on some more nuanced missed or subverted opportunities.
If you’re in the market for a performance-ready variant on this same theme, see my earlier entry on the game Options, here.
Cheers, David Charles.
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Photo Credit: Tony Firriolo
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