Conflict - the essence of drama and the scourge of improv comedy.
Take a random sample of 10 average improv scenes and 7 of them will consist of sort of argument. One character will be yelling at another to stop doing something. Two characters will be fighting over what they should be doing. A whole group of people shouting about how they don't like what they're doing or who they're doing it with. Sometimes these scenes really work. Sometimes they're almost unwatchable.
What makes the success rate of argument scenes so inconsistent? Can they be avoided or are they inevitable? If we happen to find ourselves arguing in a scene, what are some ways we can increase our chances of success?
First let's pinpoint when argument happens in a scene. An argument occurs when one character takes issue with the behavior of another character, confronts them about it, and the second character chooses to defend that behavior. An argument is never forced by only one character. It's a deliberate shared choice to engage on an issue. It takes two to tango, so to speak.
There are essentially three types of argument scenes based on where the problem behavior occurs in time: Past, Present, & Future.
PAST PROBLEM: One character blames another for causing their current (negative) circumstances.
Ex: "Ugh, we're lost! I can't believe you said we didn't need a map!"
PRESENT PROBLEM: One character doesn't like what the other is currently doing.
Ex: "Stop driving so fast! I'm going to throw up!"
FUTURE PROBLEM: One character wants to do something the other character doesn't want them to do OR one character wants the other to do something that character doesn't want to do.
Ex: "Jump the fence of the enclosure so I can take a picture of you with the lion."
Note that all of these examples are not yet arguments. They've fulfilled the first two steps so they're well on their way, but they require a defensive response in order to really get going.
That defensive response, the desire to push back against an accusation or command, is quite natural, especially when we aren't entirely comfortable with our own abilities or the space we're in or who we're improvising with. When we're uncomfortable we tend to resort to some of our baseline instincts, mainly the Fight or Flight response. When Flight is winning we find ourselves avoiding going out onstage or playing only supporting roles or finding an excuse to leave a scene. When Fight is winning we often try to control the behavior of our scene partner or get defensive and stubborn about our own. Recognize when we're uncomfortable and we'll be more aware of these responses. Become aware of how we're responding and we might be able to prevent ourselves from going down a panic-driven path we'd prefer to not go down.
If our preferred path is avoiding an argument completely, they are relatively simple to evade. As mentioned above, an argument requires a confrontation followed by a defensive response. We can avoid the first step by choosing to not have a problem with the behavior of our scene partner, or if we do have a problem, we can choose to not confront them about it. We can either keep it to ourselves or express our displeasure in other more indirect ways. If we are the ones being confronted, we can avoid arguing by conceding that our behavior was indeed problematic. Nothing stops a fight faster than "you're right".
However, knowing that it's perfectly possible to have a successfully entertaining argument in a scene, we might not always want to avoid them. How, then, do we argue effectively?
Let's find out by taking a deeper look at each type of argument scene.
PAST PROBLEM
One character blames another for causing their current (negative) circumstances.
Ex: "Ugh, we're lost! I can't believe you said we didn't need a map!"
The accuser is this example is rightfully upset at being lost, but simply confronting their scene partner for causing it doesn't make it an argument. It only becomes one when the second character gets defensive. In a Past Problem scene this usually means they attempt to either deflect blame ("Well I didn't know there was going to be an accident that closed the highway!") or reflect it ("Well you're the one who wanted to see what downtown looked like."). This is the sort of move that leads to what Alex Berg calls a "Wizard Battle" - an improviser duel where each line adds additional information that twists the circumstances that functions to paint each character in a more sympathetic light.
We do it because we have strong natural tendencies to defend ourselves from perceived attacks. It's the Fight in Fight or Flight. We don't like the feeling of blame, so we deflect or reflect it. In improv, because the past is unknown, we can essentially conjure it away. It's an easy trap to fall into. What usually happens next is that the accuser (who would have known about the accident or wanting to see downtown if this were real life, but just got surprised by this new information) feels the need to double down on their accusation. They know their character would be aware of those things before making the accusation, so they can't take it back. The rest of the scene ends up being about each character maneuvering their way around the other so they can be right.
The reason it's such a big trap is that the improvisers in a Wizard Battle feel like the scene is moving when it's not. Because they're adding new information, it feels like there's momentum, but generally all the information being added is historical ("This is just like that time you...", "Well it's not as bad as when you...", "If we hadn't stopped to get you a snack...", etc). The scene isn't actually going anywhere because all the attention is on all the things that led up to how the characters got to this moment. They're living in the past. The audience doesn't care how we got lost; they care how our characters behave now that we are. Do we panic and start crashing into things? Do we try to make the most of it and use it as an excuse to try some local cuisine? What happens if one of the characters panics and the other enjoys it? How do those viewpoints continually clash as we do more "being lost" things?
A commonly taught trick to escape the Past Problem is "you always", which is well-meaning but has varying levels of effectiveness. It's meant to gift a Point Of View onto our scene partner so that they know what to do for the rest of the scene, but it also relies on our ability to cleanly turn a single example of behavior into a broader personality trait. Something like "You always think we don't need the map when we go on road trips" attempts the trick but falls short because all it tells us is that this exact scenario has happened before. It's too specific to be of any help. It's not a POV because it requires a specific set of circumstances (road trip) and a one-time decision (do we need the map?). On the other hand, something like "You're always underprepared" or "You always assume nothing will go wrong" is perfect because it can be applied to any set of circumstances and infinite decisions. It gives us something to play with. So if our scene partner hits us with "you're always underprepared" when we find ourselves lost, it gives us so much more to do. Now if our car gets a flat tire while we're driving around being lost we can suddenly remember we didn't bring the spare because we didn't think we'd need it.
"You always" is a decent way of escape once you're in it, but the best way to avoid a Past Problem starts when we set aside our egos and embrace our mistakes.
It's okay to have been wrong.
When we understand this and stop needing to be right all the time, we can move on and focus on the present moment. The circumstances that got us to where we are do not matter. The only thing that matters is what we do now.
So what can we do if we find ourselves focusing on a Past Problem in a scene?
- If we are the character doing the blaming...
- forgive and forget. Avoid harping on the character that messed up.
- try to work together to fix it.
- If we are the character being blamed...
- embrace the mistake. Admit that we messed up.
- repeat the mistake.
- make things worse.
PRESENT PROBLEM
One character doesn't like what the other is currently doing.
Ex: "Stop driving so fast! I'm going to throw up!"
A general improv rule is that the word "stop" means "keep doing that". "Stop" usually comes from the character playing the Voice of Reason (aka Straight Man), who serves to establish the norms of behavior in the world that's currently being explored. Often, but not always, those norms mirror those of our real lives, which is why the Voice of Reason is considered to be a representative of the audience. It's a crucial role in comedy, and one that has to be handled with a significant amount of finesse.
If the scene is an airplane, the Unusual Character controls the stick. Their choices dictate which direction the scene will go. The Voice of Reason controls the throttle. The amount they tolerate the behavior of the Unusual Character determines how fast or slow the scene moves. Let the Unusual Character do whatever they want and the scene either burns through fuel too quickly or spins out of control. Stop the Unusual Character completely and the scene stalls and crashes. A good Voice of Reason finds a middle ground where they alternate allowing and reigning in the behavior of the Unusual Character to match the pace of the show and the energy of the room.
In the driving too fast example, the Voice of Reason fulfills the important task of creating stakes. It's not enough to simply name the Unusual Character's driving speed as abnormal and therefore unacceptable, there have to be specific consequences for that abnormal behavior. This creates a setup/payoff pattern that can be explored and heightened. However, it's immensely important that the improviser playing the Voice of Reason recognizes that they have to follow through on the stakes they set up. They might start the scene by saying "stop" and making a couple attempts to get the driver to slow down, but they eventually have to find a way to lose. They eventually have to vomit.
Perhaps the most important requirement for playing an effective Voice of Reason is the ability to separate the needs of our character from the needs of the scene. As improvisers, our loyalties lie with the scene as a whole. A lot of times, what the scene needs is for bad stuff to happen to our character. This can be difficult to do. If we are fully committing to our character emotionally, as we should, we will often actually be feeling the things they feel. If our character really doesn't want to vomit in the car, we might let that cloud our idea of what should happen in the scene. But if the scene is to avoid stalling and crashing, it needs to happen.
We are not our character.
They aren't real. Their existence is temporary. Who cares what happens to them? Put them through something. See how they respond.
So what can we do if we find ourselves focusing on a Present Problem in a scene?
- If we are the character not liking the action...
- establish stakes/consequences.
- allow the action to proceed.
- explore the consequences.
- repeat.
- If we are the character whose actions are disliked...
- ignore "stop" or only stop temporarily.
- find ways to either heighten the action or repeat it from a new angle.
FUTURE PROBLEM
One character wants to do something the other character doesn't want them to do OR one character wants the other to do something that character doesn't want to do.
Ex: "Jump the fence of the enclosure so I can take a picture of you with the lion."
The Future Problem shares a lot of similarities with the Past Problem and Present Problem, because a Future Problem is simply a Past Problem or Present Problem waiting to happen. The big trap of the Future Problem is when we get so bogged down in debating the various hypothetical consequences of a scenario that does not yet exist that we never actually get to see the scenario play out. The goal then, much like the Present Problem, is to predict the consequences of the future action, then let the action happen to see if we were right or wrong. The character being urged to enter the lion enclosure might rightly argue that they don't want to do it because they'll get attacked by the lion. But once they've set up those potential consequences, we need to see how accurate that prediction is.
Again, we are not our character. Don't let our desire for self-preservation overpower the needs of the scene.
Action should always win.
That's not to say there can be no debate beforehand, but the debate shouldn't be the entire scene. We learn a lot about our characters when they expand upon their opinions. Why does the photographer need the photo of their companion next to the lion? Are they trying to become a nature photographer and this is the best they can do? Are they trying to set up an incident so they can sue the zoo? Both of these rationales tell us a ton about how they think and what their values are.
The same goes for the character being photographed. Do they not want to get in because they're allergic to cats? Are they concerned about getting attacked because they're out of sick days? We learn a lot about who they are based on what they bring up in their protest. But the protest should only last as long as it takes to establish a Point of View. Eventually, the scene will demand action. Eventually they should be willing to suck up the allergy symptoms to help their friend's career. Eventually they should absorb the attack to make enough money from the lawsuit to quit their job with poor benefits.
This is not intuitive, especially if we're not entirely comfortable. "React honestly" is a popular improv note that prevents a lot of people from letting action win in scenarios like this. Coming up we hear "What would you do in this situation? Do that." so much we think we think that's how we should be thinking at all times. But often the most effective thing we can do is something that we would never in a million years do if we found ourselves in that situation in real life. "React honestly" in this case means being just as afraid of the lion as we really would be, but choosing to hop the fence anyway.
So what can we do if we find ourselves focusing on a Future Problem in a scene?
- If we are the character preventing the action...
- establish stakes/consequences.
- allow the action to proceed.
- explore the consequences.
- repeat.
- If we are the character creating the action...
- justify the action.
- find ways to either heighten the action or repeat it from a new angle.
It's okay to have been wrong. We are not our character. Action should always win. An argument will be much more effective if it is focused on what is currently happening or what is imminent. It will be much more entertaining if we are willing to put our characters through things we wouldn't put ourselves through normally. If we can manage to keep our arguments focused on the present and constantly moving forward, they'll be a lot more successful and a lot more fun.