Dropping the bomb: after Routine Routine.

So, last night in rehearsal we repeated the exercise described here previously called "The Routine Routine." Then, since we are working toward a long form narrative structure, We added another scene, wherein a third character enters and provides the "But then one day" energy to the story. (We are basing our structure on Kenn Adams' Story Spine. Read more about Kenn's remarkable work Here)

Kat and Amy played a scene, first described, then acted with dialogue, between a mom who didn't like her daughter much, and that adolescent daughter. The scene took place while the mom finished dinner and the daughter angrily set the table. It was (in a good way, mind you) uncomfortable to watch. Both characters were smiling deadly smiles as they fenced and jousted their way through the routine. At the end of the scene, the mom announced that she was going out with her new boyfriend, the hot dog cook "who attended the BOCES culinary program!"

Details abounded. And mattered. There was spaghetti sauce, a sideboard with silverware, cabinets, a table...all of them used to underscore the really miserable ongoing relationship between mom and daughter. We learned about the absent father. We learned about the new boyfriend. And we learned a huge amount about the very unhappy life the two characters were living.

Lights down, Lights up. Mom was sitting next to daughter, now appearing more conciliatory, even consoling. We didn't have a chance to find out why: Nick entered, as the boyfriend. He took command immediately. Sitting at the table, he asked the mom: "Did you tell her?" Note that he wasted no time: Nick's job was to provide the big, "It's Tuesday!" energy, and he did it immediately. Great choice!

The mom had told her. . The mom and boyfriend had decided it was time for the seventeen year old daughter to leave the house.

Kat made another great choice at that moment playing the daughter. She said "Yeah, she told me." And left. boom. I really loved that choice, because it's so daring: There's a whole long (quite possibly maudlin, melodramatic) scene that begs to be played out between the three of them, but the outcome has been decided. So....poof!

Now, we are really in a moment of crisis. What do we know? We know that probably, the main character is either the mom or the daughter, probably not the boyfriend. But we aren't sure which yet. We do know that the boyfriend has set in motion a series of events that will definitely change their relationship. Both mom and daughter face huge challenges now---mom in dealing with her choice and the guilt it provokes, dealing with the boyfriend who clearly pushed the issue of kicking out her daughter-- and the daughter dealing with sudden teenage homelessness.

The next scene, with its completely unknown developments, would tell us the direction the story would take. Of course, in this particular instance, we'll never know. But that's OK---there are a zillion stories waiting to be discovered.

The Routine Routine

Here's an exercise that's six days old. We had a lot of fun with it in rehearsal last Tuesday. What we ended up doing wasn't exactly the exercise I intended to invent; yes-anding the offers my improvisers in the Mop & Bucket Co. made, I re-wrote the exercise a bit. Enjoy!

The Routine Routine
Two players.

A short scene (90 seconds, for example) is played twice. The scene should be of an unremarkable, oft-repeated event in the life of two people who know each other well—breakfast at home, husband and wife, for example.

The first run of the scene features the two players remarking on the things that they know are happening/will happen in the scene. (For example: Husband: "She's going to brown the eggs too much again, 'cause she never remembers to find the jam in the fridge before she starts the eggs!" These remarks may be about the physical action or they may be about the interpersonal drama that unfolds every day between these characters, eg: Husband: I am reading the paper so that I won't have to engage with her never-ending, monotonous chatter. Wife: I speak really quickly and enthusiastically, trying to get him engaged in our lives together.

The focus should be on creating the description of a completely known, uneventful slice of life , rich because it is loaded with varying kinds of color added by the two players.

The second time, the players play the scene normally, with dialogue. They should be encouraged to make no overt reference to any of the things mentioned in the first iteration; but honor the flow of the first scene with their actions.

NOTES:
This is a platform scene; the improvisers should resist the temptation to have the "but then one day" moment happen---the whole point is to fully explore the normal life prior to the event that sparks a drama.

The impulse to develop a scene based on ennui/antipathy will probably be strong; there is nothing wrong with this, but there are happily married couples, barbers who enjoy their work etc. Watch out for a repetition of the negative flavored scene, funny as it may at first seem.

Players must be particularly careful to listen and yes and each other in the first scene; they will find that they endow each other greatly during this stage, and shouldn't block these offers.

This example uses two players. There is no reason that the exercise should be limited to two---one, three, or five should be possible.