The Beginning of an Improv Adventure

It has now been ten years since Improv Iceland began hosting weekly shows, that are still running at the National Theatre Cellar in Reykjavík. To mark the occasion, I wrote a series of articles about improv and how the improv scene in Iceland came to life.

The first post tells the story of how I discovered improv in New York and was almost too proud to sign up for a class.

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My very first experience with improvisation took place just before the turn of the millennium, at a theatre workshop organized by my college theatre club, Herranótt, which happens to be Iceland’s oldest theatre association.

Benedikt Erlingsson taught us theatre sports, or short-form improv. My memory of that first experience feels almost like a religious awakening. It was electrifying. I felt a vibration in every cell of my body. Some kind of magic had occurred, something I could not explain until much later: I had reconnected with a sense of play I had not felt since childhood.

Later, in drama school and during rehearsals for productions I performed in as a professional actress, I often took part in various forms of improvisation. That was when I felt most alive. Whenever there was improvisation, I lost myself in creation and joy.

Years later, in the fall of 2012, my then husband began pursuing his master’s degree in film directing at Columbia University. As we could not afford daycare, I took care of our two-year-old son full time. A friend of mine who had lived in New York for several years came to visit us shortly after we had settled into a student apartment on 116th Street, next to the campus in Harlem, just a few minutes’ walk from Central Park.

I told my friend I was looking for something meaningful to do once my cousin arrived as our au pair after the New Year, when I would finally have some time to myself.

“Why don’t you take improv at UCB? That would be perfect for you,” she suggested.

Before moving to the US I´d had a busy career as an actress for a decade after graduating from the Iceland University of the Arts. I knew improv was short for improvisation, but beyond that I had no idea what she was referring to.

When I googled UCB, which stands for Upright Citizens Brigade, I discovered that Amy Poehler, known from Saturday Night Live and Parks and Recreation, was one of the founders. That caught my attention, as I´ve been a SNL fan since I was a teenager. UCB operated two theatres in Manhattan, with multiple shows every night of the week and free shows on Sundays. They also offered a wide range of improv and sketch classes.

The website clearly stated that everyone had to begin with the introductory level class, regardless of prior experience or education. This baffled me. I could not understand why I, with my training and experience, should take the same class as complete beginners. I immediately dismissed my friend’s suggestion and was, to be honest, slightly offended that she had even suggested it.

The arrogance guiding my reaction at the time was entirely unconscious. I had probably absorbed some of the educational elitism from the industry back home. I rejected what I considered beneath me, when in reality it was a golden opportunity, and exactly what I had been searching for.

Arrogance and low self-esteem may seem like opposites, but both are rooted in fear. A door to an adventure had been presented to me, but I did not have the courage to say “yes, and…” and open it.

After the New Year, my cousin arrived to help us as an unofficial au pair, freshly graduated from college. More than six months had passed since we moved. I had initially been certain I would find something in New York that would inspire me, expand me, open new doors. But now I was beginning to have doubts.

I occasionally accepted roles in my husband’s classmates’ student projects and short films. It felt as though I was receiving fragments of the expensive education they were getting, but I wanted more. I began to seriously question the instinct that had so clearly shouted “Yes, and!” when the idea of moving abroad first came up.

I wanted to do something to entertain my cousin, but we had little money to spend. I applied for us to be audience members at tapings tapings of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon and The Late Show with David Letterman, which was free. Tina Fey was one of the guests. I was already a fan, though at the time I did not know that her background was in improv.

When I checked ticket prices for Broadway shows, I felt dizzy. Then I suddenly remembered the free Sunday improv shows I had seen on UCB’s website the previous fall.

When I looked it up again, I noticed that tickets for the free show could not be reserved in advance, but it was recommended to arrive early to secure seats. My cousin and I took the subway from Harlem to Chelsea and arrived well before showtime, only to find a long line stretching down the block.

The cold in New York was different from what I was used to in Iceland. The humidity made it seep into your bones. We were warmly dressed but had not anticipatedstanding outside in the biting February cold for over an hour. After about thirty minutes, our fingers and toes were numb. I saw my cousin’s lips turning purple and asked if we should just go home. I could not promise the show would be worth it. Whether her answer came from politeness or loyalty, I am grateful that we decided to stay.

Eventually we stepped into the warmth of the lobby, where stairs led down into a basement filled with loud music and buzzing chatter. Gratefully, we received free tickets in the form of stamps on the backs of our slowly thawing hands.

When the lights dimmed, the music softened. A voice over the speakers welcomed the audience to the show, Asssscat, and the crowd erupted as the improvisers were introduced on stage.

After a brief, relaxed exchange with each other and the audience, the performers explained that everything we were about to see would be improvised. Nothing was rehearsed or decided beforehand. Everything would be created on the spot and never repeated. All they needed to begin was a single word from the audience.

People immediately began shouting suggestions, and the performers chose the first one they claimed to hear.

I don´t remember what the word was that night, but over the years I have noticed how common it is for someone in the audience of an improv show to shout “banana” or “pineapple.” There is no way of knowing why food words are so commonly suggested at improv shows. Maybe people are simply hungry. But this is why improvisers often ask specifically for “a word that is not food.”

The performers created scenes on the spot based on that word. The scenes were set all over the world, and the improvisers jumped between many different characters without costumes, props, lighting changes, or sound effects. I stared in awe and laughed until tears streamed down my face. I could not comprehend how the magic unfolding on stage could exist without anything being pre-planned. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

One scene remains especially vivid in my memory. It was set in an amusement park, where Shannon O’Neill and Anthony Atamanuik rode one wild attraction after another. My cousin had a great time, but I was completely captivated and could not wait to sign up for a class.

I was desperate to learn this incredible art form, which I later discovered was called long-form improv, something I had never seen before and had not even known existed.

When we got home, I immediately enrolled in Improv 101 at UCB, more than six months after my friend had first suggested it.

I often get chills when I think back to how close I came to missing out on bringing improv into my life, which eventually led to building an improv scene in Iceland.