bY Miranda Alperstein
Sometimes it’s truly astounding to think how much of our lives is based on chance. A snap decision, a sunny day, a misdialed phone call.
For instance, as I walked down the hallways the September of my sophomore year, I happened to notice a poster on the wall. “Improv troupe auditions Monday after school.”
I had tried improv in acting classes before. I knew I wasn’t very good, and I didn’t particularly enjoy making a fool of myself. But that poster came at a moment when I was looking for something to involve myself in. I also had nothing else to do that afternoon.
So I auditioned.
I was accepted as a founding member of “Just Wing It,” the only improv troupe Princeton High School has seen in recent years. I have spent almost three years molding this group establishing who and what we are what games we play, how and when we rehearse, how and when we perform, the boy-to-girl ratio of our members, etc., etc., etc.
For a long time, we developed our skill sets, which meant building a repertoire of improv games as well as a passion for improvised comedy. I often compare the group to a band that spends all its time rehearsing and never performing.
My senior year, I was given leadership of the group, and I’ve tried to establish more and more precedents weekly rehearsals, mandatory snacks at those rehearsals, performances at various venues.
But, as cliché as it sounds, any influence that I have had on this group as a member and a leader is nothing compared to the degree of influence this group has had on me as a person.
Improv is the hardest thing I have ever done, save maybe calculus. At first, every scene was a struggle. I thought of improvising as high-speed playwriting, and I had to plan out my every move.
”Maybe I’ll be shopping for a three-legged dog? Then it turns out that my mother works next door and I’m here visiting her to drop off her lunch and maybe she’s really sick and needs a medication that they only give to dogs and maybe . . . .”
But I had to adjust my personality to fit improv. I had to discard my previous instinct to plan out my words and actions. For years, my experiences in school and in other areas in my life had drummed into my head the importance of preparedness, but I now had to accept that the moment would bring ideas.
Most of what comes to an improviser comes from his or her scene partner this is what took me the longest to realize. It was never my full responsibility to plan the scene I had to accept that someone else’s ideas would complement my own.
”Hi, I’m here to buy a three-legged dog!”
” ‘Three-legged dog,’ you say? Let me take you to the back to show you the real merchandise.”
Chance made me audition in the first place, and now I rely on chance in every move when I improvise. I’m no longer embarrassed when bizarre, things come out of my mouth, and I accept that every idea will somehow end up being for the better.
