Improvise: Scene from the Inside Out (review)

An undeniable modern giant on the Chicago improv scene, Mick Napier adds his distinct no-nonsense voice to the spirited conversation regarding spontaneous play with his Improvise: Scene From the Inside Out. A former student and teacher of Second City and the ImprovOlympic, Napier is perhaps best known for his longstanding relationship with Chicago's Annoyance Theatre, whose irreverent performance philosophy, author Rob Kozlowski notes, can be summed up in two words: fuck it. This thought-provoking notebook is true to that trademark Annoyance uncensored spirit, providing the reader with an ample dose of raw no-holds-barred wisdom.

As is often the case with next-generation practitioners, Napier feels the need to tackle the entrenched paradigms of improvisation in order to make room for his own particular approach. After a brief definition of the theatrical form, Napier quickly depicts the foundational philosophies of Johnstone, Spolin, and Close in a less-than-favorable light. In particular, he attacks an oft-quoted series of truisms collectively known as the so-called rules of improvisation. His list of ten such statements, including such perennials as "don't deny" and "don't ask questions," will sound familiar to any casual student of the form. Such rules, he contends, can quickly become performance blocks or condition players to "think in a particular way, and that way of thinking is often death to good improvisation" (9). In short, Napier is not fond of rules—at least, these rules.

There is a pleasant organic structure to Improvise as Napier gradually builds and details his alternative strategies for scene creation. Chapter three outlines a deceptively straightforward approach to starting a scene: do something, check out what you did, and then hold onto it. Sustaining this system is a sense of selfishness that seems, at first, to fly in the face of now "universal" concepts such as groupmind and team spirit; yet, as Napier remarks, such an attitude in performance need not be detrimental to the common good. He observes, "[t]he grand irony is that the times I've felt most supported in an improv scene is when my partner took care of herself first" (16). This doctrine of self-reliance finds further balance with an understanding of one's scene partner as discussed in chapter four, and the importance of a sustained point of view or emotional disposition. The concept of "context"—loosely speaking, Napier's equivalent of finding the "game" within the scene—emerges in chapter five. Here, Napier also reaffirms his distaste for those persistent aforementioned rules that, in his opinion, plague the creative event. "Good improvisation isn't thinking about those things," he declares. "It's finding your individual deal with another's individual deal and realizing a common context and surprising from within it" (47).

In chapter six, Napier pauses to describe and diagnose some "common problems" in the improvisatory event. He includes a self-conscious preamble, noting that his observations "are not rules" (48). At this stage of his argument, the point may be moot. The distinction between a guideline and a rule seems unimportant, particularly in the light of Napier's astute offerings. (One might, however, be well advised to consider those who were the object of his initial rant under a similarly sympathetic gaze.) His wisdom largely speaks for itself: Napier's list of "words and phrases in justification land" provides particular punch, outlining a series of common utterances that often deflate or minimize personal investment in the scene (53–4).

Chapter seven continues to assemble Napier's scenic building blocks, considering the nuances of larger group scenes. Common themes recur, such as the importance of a strong point of view, the necessity of context, and the need to quickly identify the dominant energy or game of the scene. Napier then segues into a series of techniques he groups under the heading, "advanced improvisation." Again, he sheds new light on some common improvisational...