Our Stu – improvisor and owner of a holiday cottage in Hyrule – writes about the contents of his brain and The Oickers’ comedown tips after comedy improv.
I am pretty confident that it is a universally shared experience to end a comedy improv session with your brain completely (and utterly, totally, thoroughly, entirely) wired.
After an improv session my brain is like …. ‘that was great and amazing and brilliant but also terrifying and horrible and hard …. and I was rubbish but I didn’t want it to end …. but I could have said ‘bath mat’ instead of ‘Barry’ …. and I should have endowed Lynda with the emotions of an accountant … and I forgot to name anyone in my first three scenes …. and I focused too much on plot instead of relationship ….. and I need a cup of tea and to listen better …. but it was good when Liz endowed me as an evil and narcissistic estate agent. Oh. My. God. Does Liz think I am like an evil and narcissistic estate agent in real life? ….. and so she endowed me as an evil and narcissistic estate agent as a hint that I actually am an evil and narcissistic estate agent… and I tried too hard to get a laugh by throwing in a fart joke and swearing …. but everyone laughed when I puked in Dave’s shoes. Oh. My. God. Does Dave actually think I would puke in his shoes in real life? …. and I need some chocolate and I was in too many scenes …. and everyone thinks I tag in too much and they are all so talented …. and I did a West Country accent in the farmyard scene …. and it was a really lovely scene, but it was a lazy stereotype …. and now everyone thinks I am a racist and I really do need some whole nut’, etc, etc, etc.
Grey matter lunging
I think my brain does this after improv (for at least three hours) because in all my 20 years within the great British education system, it has never worked as hard as it does during an Emma Bird Liverpool Comedy Improv session.
Emma is like Joe Wicks, but for the brain! Right from the warmup, Emma has my 1.5kg (3.3lb) worth of grey matter lunging, doing burpees and squat jumps.
Even before the start of the session, I have had all day to build up a deluge of adrenaline as I nervously brick myself thinking about making stuff up in front of other human beings. Add to that the joy and laughter, and I finish every improv session with a manic brain doing the butterfly stroke in a soup of endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and melatonin.
So, I have concluded that improv rooms are basically drug dens, but with nicer decor and less death. They are both similar because after the high, you face the challenge of coming down upon exit.
I am used to the comedown now. I know what my brain must do to process what the hell just happened. I have accepted the fact that I probably won’t be able to get to sleep until after midnight. I just sort of let my brain go through its stream of consciousness while the rest of me watches from afar and tries not to take it all too seriously. I am like a knowing but powerless parent quietly watching my rabid toddler work off a Haribo party bag.
Improv comedown routine
My comedown routine is currently a 50-minute drive home with BBC Six Music while my mind refuses to shut its inane monologue. Upon reaching my abode, and while the rest of my family go to bed, I’ll make myself a cup of tea, find some chocolate, and watch three episodes of The Clone Wars until I am able to bring balance to the Force, and get some sleep.
You will be relieved to hear (especially if you’re not a fan of wars in the stars) that everyone has a different comedown routine after a comedy improv session, and that it will change over time. To provide you with an eclectic bag of wind-down suggestions, I asked my fellow Oickers what they do after an improv jam, show or session.
The zen guru, Mayor Mark puts on some chilled classical or ambient music and reads for an hour or so. This is part of his usual night-time routine, but sometimes he may have a warm bath. I have a reliable source who says that the Mayor reaches such an intense zen state of mind that he has been seen through his bathroom window cross-legged, naked and hovering an inch above his bath water.
Ewan’s comedown routine consists of a combination of tinkling on the piano, playing with the cat, chatting with friends or reading. I imagine that Ewan does all of this in a smoking jacket made from the finest Highland tartan by Sean Connery’s esteemed Edinburgh tailor.
Before Sekki found romance with fellow Oicker, Iain, she would belt out a tune on the ukulele, dig out a monologue to practice or walk around the house talking to herself. Sometimes she would simply check on her potted plants or take out the rubbish. She also suggests doing things that require absorbing skills like conjugating a French verb, but I think that is too dangerous to try by yourself at home.
Nowadays, Sekki and Iain’s comedown remedy is to get together for a nice cup of tea and a chat. The ageing romantic in me likes to think that these chats are like the final ‘will-they-won’t-they’ scenes in a romcom, and end with a kiss as the music soars and the camera pans up to reveal a starry sky full of love’s potential. But they have been courting for a while now, so they probably just talk about whose turn it is to put the bins out and whether Iain needs to take his Bara brith tea bread out of the oven earlier because it is a bit dry.
Liz doesn’t have a routine although she says she does need to get one. As well as the improv high and comedown, Liz experiences are similar when she is in a stage play. She needs to find what helps her wind down and relax when the after-show blues set in.
I think all performing artists and creatives in general, from street performers to landscape painters, experience some kind of high and then low. It is a mind wrench when stepping back into the real world from the creative dimension to pack away your juggling knives or clean the Aztec blue from your brushes.
Luckily, The Oickers have a ‘specialist experienced expert specialist’ in the contemplative shape of Jenna. I say ‘specialist experienced expert specialist’ but in Jenna’s own words, she says that she is a: “Bit of a geek having done some reading around sleep etc before.” That practically makes her an Oxford professor in the neurological power of the mind and how to control the mind with your mind.
Relax Jenna is here
Jenna has a few ways to relax after improv:
- If you are looking for something to help discharge emotion, she recommends having a shower with your favourite shower gel, accompanied by relaxing music. The water helps release the emotions.
- Standing on the grass in bare feet helps to you to ground yourself and bring yourself back to the now.
- Watch a short comedy programme.
- Put your thoughts into a journal while listening to music, or just in silence.
- Sit quietly for 15 minutes in the stillness and focus on your breathing.
- If Jenna needs some extra help she will listen to a meditation or yoga Nidra.
- Trampolining (I know, I was like WTF too, but you really just need to do what works best for you).
Jenna will use any combination of the above to help her brain comedown. If, like me, you have trouble getting to sleep after improv or just in general, Jenna also recommends a book called ‘Sleep Smarter’.
What all The Oickers have learned during their improv experience is that this is all perfectly normal. Your brain will ride the improv high and then on the way down say some pretty stupid stuff. It will irrationally babble through things that knock your confidence, and it will play through a long list of ‘what-ifs’. Don’t take it seriously. It is just your neurons and brain systems processing the marvellous experience of comedy improv.
So, let your brain do its thing.
Meanwhile you can enjoy doing the stuff that helps you relax and wind down, such as drinking tea, eating chocolate and watching Obi-Wan Kenobi while trampolining. Is there anything more relaxing?
The Oickers 