Things to gain:
- requires self-awareness: can’t interrupt easily, talk too long, or physically dominate
- requires group mind: flowing and building through cascade of dialogue, holding tension through silence
- forces true listening, with no other distractions or physical cues to guide a response
- requires stronger character/voice work (hard to hold onto, great skill to have)
- requires illustrative techniques and specificity to paint a picture for listener
- BONUS, but not skill: going places the stage can’t take you. Character’s physical range increases (acrobats! dancers! growing to the size of a giant, shrinking to size of a mouse!), intimacy can increase (kissing, awkward touching, odd scenarios – all with pre-approved consent, of course!), appropriate inclusion of aggression or violence can add drama as the set expands (a battlefield with horses, a duel)
- I feel like pure drama is more easily accepted/heightened in audio because of these things. Onstage, there seems to be some sort of wait or expectation of a little relief of a laugh, naturally, since the act of trying to recreate the physically impossible lends toward comedy. But a good dramatic break that audio encourages is pure fantastic storytelling.
Things lost:
- object work (no more space digging or batter mixing?! Darn)
- the energy/feedback of a live audience
- in-person contact & connection
- Comedy can be harder – good audio requires more mastery of language and timing
Audio is not trying to emulate stage, but be its own medium of improv that is a different experience.
Audio is more intimate and vulnerable to me. It is harder to get a laugh, I think, since visual reaction and physical comedy is a huge part of laughter, but I think audio results in stronger improvisational storytelling skills. There is no external feedback to validate the performance, and you must commit with no one there to prompt you. An audience will put up with “okay” improv at the cost of supporting friends, having a laugh now and then, and being stuck in the seat. At any moment, a listener can tune out and turn off audio. Once you’ve lost them, it’s hard to get them back.
Stage has its own risk: there is promise to be funnier, and a “bad” flow night will always happen in front of an audience, whereas most audio, for now, has the option of being published. “Feeling” live improv (the thrill or the discomfort, depending on the night!) in a room simply can’t be replicated. I love watching improvisers figuring out what’s going in real time – I live for experiencing those moments of doubt before the win, which get masked in audio, though occasional long silences are pretty funny.
Generally, I think audio makes the improviser work harder, and mastering it will turn a good improviser into an excellent one. It is a strange dichotomy of a solo and group practice. You play with others, but each player must (pardon my language) be able to hold on to their shit with no one else there to hold each player back or visually communicate anything. In audio, all you can experience is the sound of floundering. Chaos in audio is rarely (never?) funny or interesting. Chaos onstage can still be tolerable if it looks fun, which is why I love watching excited, nervous, sweet, new improvisers who have that sparkle in their eye of being onstage.
Just don’t be Michael Scott.