Justifying

Justifying goes hand in hand with the above two examples. Beginning improvisers do it all the time. What is it? It is when you make an initiation and then justify why you said or did that initia­tion. You do or say something and then soon after explain why you did that. It's tricky and subjective.

A blatant example of justifying:

Cop A: That street lamp is out.

Cop B: Yeah, whatever.

Cop A: Well, it's really dark.

Cop B: So what?

Cop A: It's just weird, I mean, every time we walk the beat together you act indifferent to me. I...

The last line is the justification, and like everything, whether or not it's a problem depends on how it's said and when it is said. I would imagine in this example, the justification is a consequence of fear on the part of the improviser playing Cop A. In this case, he wigged out at the indifference of the second improviser's character and resorted to making an assessment of the scene. First with, "It's just weird," meaning, "I as the improviser am confused so I will assess that the situation is weird because it's the only way I can pro­tect myself."

Then comes the "I mean," which we've already discussed. Then comes the justification, "Every time we walk the beat together you act indifferent to me." This is an attempt to explain why Cop B is behaving the way she is. It is too scary for some improvisers to just allow the other improviser to be in the scene, so they have to justify a situation or assess someone's behavior.

The "I..." is there because quite often, after a justification such as this, the improviser will continue talking.

I placed the justification in this scene where it is on purpose. That is, quite often, justifications come after the second or third exchange in the scene. That's where a weaker improviser will become uncomfortable with the scene and want to dilute the mys­tery by answering the question, "Why are we behaving like this?" It very much out of fear; an adult, left-brain need to apply logic and answers to the mystery of the behavior of the scene.

Almost always the improviser feels a little icky after such moments and the audience feels the power loss, but neither the performer nor the audience knows why. The reason that it causes a drop in the scene is because the play of the scene is explained and not allowed to just be. It would be like either Abbott or Costello turning to the audience and saying, "In case you didn't realize it, we are using pronouns in the place of baseball players' names." That would be a drag because it explains why the behavior is happening, as opposed to letting us enjoy that it is happening. We want to enjoy the confusion in "Who's on First," not have it explained to us.

In my example, it would be different if the first sentence of the scene were, "Every time we walk the beat you seem indifferent to me." It would be different because out of the gate, the declared behavior would be accusatory, which could be played like any­thing else. It becomes a justification if it is presented later in the scene to explain why previous behavior in the scene has been exhibited.

Another very common example of justification in improvisation is the calling-someone-crazy thing. It happens in a scene where someone is exhibiting behavior that the other person can't figure out. The scene goes on for a bit (probably unfunnily), and the confused improviser blurts out something like, "Well, you're just crazy."

Ultimate justification.

I don't understand your improvisation behavior (and I probably haven't created any powerful choice for myself either), therefore I am going to accuse you of being crazy. I'm going to justify your behavior, explain why you are behaving that way. You must be crazy. It hap­pens a lot.

It's ironic because in improvisation we hope for crazy. We want elevated theatrical absurd behavior; we just don't want it called out.

It's sometimes difficult to determine whether you justify when you improvise, but here is a clue to help you out.

If you are improvising, and around the third beat you notice that you say a long sentence and then feel a little weird, there's a good chance that was the justification. If it then feels kinda fake to get back into the scene, there's a greater chance it was one. (Imagine trying to resume "Who's on First?" after having called out that someone is mistaking baseball players' names for pronouns.)

If you've noticed that you do that, you've achieved the first step in rectifying justifying. Now, the next time you improvise you will know it's likely that a justification might come up in the second or third exchange. When you feel it coming (don't worry, you will feel it) do anything but blurt that line out. I rarely tell someone not to do something, but it's about the only way to get through this improvisa-tional block. Instead of saying that line, hold it back in silence, even if it takes four seconds of near stuttering. Then think of your last line the last line you said, and restate. Say it again in a slightly different way. This trick will train you not only to not justify, but also to hold on to the power of your first declaration, your point of view. So, in the cop example:

Cop A: That street lamp is out.

Cop B: Yeah, whatever.

Cop A: Well, it's really dark.

Cop B: So what?

(Pause. Hang on.)

Cop A: It's so dark, I can't even see.

The first time you do this you will feel the value, and justifica­tion will leave your improvisation soon after.

There are a slew of words and phrases in justification land that I have noticed throughout the years. In many of the following cases, if the lines were said with any strong deal behind them, they would be perfectly fine. I have noticed, however, that ninety-nine percent of the time, they are said with nothing behind them and in a kind of pleading, weak cadence.

Here are some of the more common examples.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-08