The uncanny valley of improv

I’ve watched excellent comedic improv and excellent dramatic improv. But for some reason, the TRULY bad improv, the ones I do not enjoy, tend to be closer to dramatic improv. Bad comedy is often pure bad, but mostly harmless (if it’s not obnoxious). But bad drama is awful. These include: pretentious improv, unnecessary conflicts, uncomfortable topics not portrayed well (often trigger material to incite the audience to believe their work is great). Something about dramatic improv makes it less forgiving.

I figured out why. It’s the uncanny valley.

In the field of robotic / computer animations / virtual reality, there is the idea that as a robot’s appearance become more human, we become more empathetic and have a positive response to it. See figure below, a humanoid robot looks more friendly than a single-arm industrial robot. And a stuffed animal is very familiar even though it is not human.

But the concept of uncanny valley suggests that, at some point, our affinity takes a nosedive. Robots that are a little too close to human make us uncomfortable. We feel eerily familiar to the object, but we know that it is not right, and perceive it as a human that is a little off. Creepy.

This is happening in improv, too.

In improv, we observe how the characters behave. Do they act bizarre, or do behave like humans? Weird behaviors are not all bad, in fact, they tend to create comedy out of unpredictability. Human behaviors make scenes feel realistic, a drama.

On the far left of the Uncanny Valley chart, we have improv scenes with no realism. They get shot by a bullet, it doesn’t matter. They pay a cashier with Monopoly money, the cashier is cool with that. They are just weird players with strange and excessive responses. They become Nicolas Cage.

When your response is 100% unpredictable, your scene matters little. There is no consequence of your actions. A Father and Son scene won’t matter when a unicorn dragon in spandex can appear from a portal to shoot laser beams.

So, many improv schools emphasize, to make better scenes, play a little bit more Human. The most obvious is UCB, who preaches to ground everything (that is, until you find the Unusual). They emphasize a lot of logic, and then push one unusual to the extreme. Kinda like Curb Your Enthusiasm. I love Curb, because I think they hit the sweet spot of real:strange ratio.

Yet, it’s still an essential part in comedy to have something strange enough for us to understand that it’s comedy. It can be as simple as one particular quirk. Like, liking cheesecakes a little too much. (See my article on Pirate 201.)

RELATED: Too Strong, Too Strange, Too Soon: Pirate Class 201

Uncanny valley in improv happens when you remove all elements of quirkiness, but you don’t play it truthfully enough. When your responses are real-like, but not quiiite real, you get into this strange area. It is not strange enough to be a comedy, but it is not real enough to be a drama. The audience is not sure what they’re watching.

Uncanny valley happens when it’s not strange enough to be a comedy and not real enough to be drama.

A person liking cheesecakes too much is unusual and funny. But a person liking alcohol too much is not unusual enough. That falls into, “Is this supposed to be funny or serious?” Alcohol is too real. If you want to play that scene, play the scene more truthfully to unpack the subject.

Let’s say you are stuck in the uncanny valley. There’s two ways to climb out. (A) is to go all-in and play the scene truthfully towards good drama. (B) is to add more un-realism and head towards comedy. Satires are good examples. By mapping a topic which is too real into something unreal, like “Save the Earth” into “Save the Twinkie”, you can climb out of uncanny valley towards good comedy. You have to feel which side of the valley you are on, and climb out the easier way.

But — this is a compliment to successful dramatic improv — to do dramatic improv well, you have to do everything well. Anything that is off-beat can make you tumble into uncanny valley.

On the other hand, the comedy landscape (on the left side of the valley) is a more vast expanse and gently sloped. This could be the reason why improv is generally thought of as comedy. When we as students start improv, we often start on the left side of the chart. And then we move right up the hill, that’s when your scenes become better. Until you reach the hill. In your improv journey, you can go all the way to the other side too, if that’s what inspires you.

Good improv comedy and good improv drama are both worthy. Just be aware of the valley in between.