Opinion: Let's Improve Our Understanding of Improv

Graham Dickson image courtesy of Multitude Media

Can I get a suggestion from the audience to inspire this article about improv in the UK? Anything that isn’t the words 'Yes, And'? Did I hear 'banana'? Great. 

I love bananas. So much so that 10 years ago I founded a banana plantation called The Free Association. I wanted so desperately to see bananas grow in the UK. I knew it would be a struggle. People famously don’t really get bananas, or they think stand-up is funnier. But even though it was painful, at times financially ruinous, I persevered. And yes, I know that at their worst bananas are a sludgy horror show that you want to hurl straight into the compost. But at their best, bananas fizz with explosive potassium energy. Bananas are good for you – and they’ll let you crush commercial castings. 

This year I’m back at the Fringe with my first solo show in six years (eek!). I will also be appearing in no fewer than five other improv shows. Every year there are more and more improv shows at the festival (roughly 100 this year), and they are broadly very popular with audiences, with some of the bigger names in improv playing daily to packed houses in the Pleasance Grand and McEwan Hall. 

So why does it feel like improv is still seen as comedy’s ugly step sibling?

Perennially misunderstood in the media and reviews; frequently mocked by peers in other comedic artforms; almost entirely shut out when it comes to any kind of awards recognition. Improv has been waiting a long time for its breakthrough moment, its ‘year’. It feels overdue. After all, Clown seems to have another ‘year’ even as the last one is still fresh in the memory.

So far so sour grapes from this banana freak. The obvious (and often justified) retort is that improv in this country just needs to be better before it’s taken more seriously. After all, the likes of Austentatious and Showstopper have married critical acclaim with box office sales. Yet these shows, whose success stretches back over a decade, are outliers (alongside short-form stars Shoot From the Hip, who have muscled their way into the mainstream via hugely successful mastering of online content). New improv shows are so rarely afforded the same exposure that up-and-coming stand-ups, clowns or sketch acts are given. Comedy venues, outside of dedicated improv theatres, are less likely to take chances on improv unless they are packed with names from TV.

Ironically, this reticence to program or champion improv is at least in part due to what makes improv feel so alive and exciting: risk. The possibility that what you see on stage might fail is part of the contract improv shows have with their audience. It is billed as a high-wire act, and many audiences come to attend that sense of jeopardy. But when programming slots and column inches are scarce, why take a punt on something that only might be good? 

This is the crux of the common misconception about improv: that it’s all basically luck, and that performers are, at best, charismatic chancers who just happen to be innately funny. Because how can you be ‘good’ at something that is just made up on the spot? There is often a casual neglect shown towards the technique and craft of improv (compared to its trendier comedy cousins), but the truth is this: when improv is good, it’s not an accident. When it’s good, the comedy does not come from successfully avoiding failure, but rather the joy of finely calibrated collaboration between connected players. When it’s good, the performers are skilled, well-trained and have had hours of practice, not because they are lucky or were on Taskmaster.

Improv has come a long way from its Whose Line Is It Anyway? 90s heyday, when short-form improv (i.e. improv based on predetermined ‘Games’) was pretty much the only gig in town. The past decade has seen a steady rise in long-form improv comedy – which encompasses everything from narrative-style shows, sketch-based formats, and any kind of show where the ‘Game of the Scene’ is discovered rather than predetermined. Improv schools and classes have exploded with students over the past few years. Across the UK, improv communities are flourishing, from Bristol to Birmingham, Glasgow and right here in Edinburgh, where the Edinburgh International Improv Festival in February has become a cherished fixture in the calendar. The health of the UK improv scene has never felt more robust, ripe even. 

But then, improv has always thrived as an outsider art. Not for nothing is it affectionately referred to as a cult. The fact that classes are full to bursting despite improv’s slight profile is almost entirely down to word of mouth, and speaks to the devotion of the community, who are as passionate as they are defiant. 

This year I hope audiences continue to flock to improv shows, and that the discourse around those shows becomes more nuanced and informed. But if that doesn’t happen, I, and the other brave leaders in the community, will continue to plant seeds, if not for the masses, then for the ever-hungry children in our glowing cult. We’ll do it despite the heartache and back pain because we just love bananas, and can’t ever seem to eat enough. So if you see a banana at the Fringe, maybe give it a peel, and don’t be scared of the weird alien fruit inside (how is it wet and dry at the same time?!). It’s good for you, I promise. Now open wide and say, “Yes, And!”

Graham Dickson: No One Deserves This More Than You, Pleasance Dome, 31 Jul-26 Aug (not 7, 14, 21); Dickson also performs in St Doctor's Hopsital (Assembly, until 12 Aug); This Doesn’t Leave The Room (Pleasance, until 10 Aug); Austentatious: An Improvised Jane Austen Novel (Underbelly, until 11 Aug); Kiell Smith Bynoe & Friends: Kool Story Bro (Pleasance, 15-21 Aug); 3 (Assembly, 14-25 Aug).