“But I’m a Great Improvisor!!!”
Is Post-hoc Rationalization Making You Get Less Out of Workshops?
by Chris Wells
It’s happened to all of us- a teacher gives us a note in class, and our first impulse is to explain why the note is wrong. We seemingly instantly understand the real reason for our previous actions in the scene. We know something the teacher doesn’t, and if they only knew what we know, they wouldn’t have interrupted the flow of our excellent scene (it really was going very well), and now all is ruined by their interruption.
Keith has a classic exercise in which a player can snap their fingers to have their partner literally carried off the stage when they are displeased with them in any way. The improvisor is instructed to shout things like “But I’m a great improvisor!!!” as they are being removed. Sometimes we actually sound that way!
When I began impro twenty-five-plus years ago, I employed justifications such as these with much gusto:
“But I was just going to say X (the perfect thing)!”
“But my character is motivated by X (inscrutable inner feeling) and so what I did makes perfect sense!”
“Actually, I meant it this way (convoluted chain of thoughts), so you see, it really wasn’t a block!”
“No, I didn’t ignore that offer (a big offer the entire audience heard and was interested in)- I was saving it for later!”
It felt to me like these explanations were set in stone before the note. That they were based entirely on logic and a cool examination of my mind and the facts.
Except, cognitive science doesn’t back that feeling up. Something I should have known as I have a degree in Psychology! Brain scans actually reveal that we come up with our explanations for things after the emotional decision has already been made. These post-hoc rationalizations felt correct and very true to me, because that’s the way our brains are designed to work. From an evolutionary perspective, being sure of yourself and fighting for your point of view was advantageous. But it can get in the way of learning. It allowed me to dismiss the note out of hand, and insured that I didn’t have to consider its contents.
Challenging the teacher gives us a thrill of victory- you stood up for yourself! You showed them! I speak from experience as a questioning, authority-challenging student from way back… But in reality, when we do this, we’ve simply robbed ourselves of a learning opportunity.
When a teacher side coaches, or gives a note after a scene, it’s because they noticed something they think you didn’t. Or sometimes it’s because they noticed something in your scene that others in the workshop have been doing. And they want to point it out to the students watching. Sometimes a note made to a player is more for the group as a whole. Sometimes for the newer students in the group. And sometimes for an individual watching who might be more open to recognizing the behavior in others that they themselves should be working on. I call this a “bank-shot note”, because it’s not direct, but hopefully hits its target.
In the first case of the note that really is meant for you personally, a teacher’s ability to see something you didn’t know was happening isn’t just based on that particular scene- if it’s a teacher you work with regularly, it’s based on many other scenes you’ve done when something similar happened. If it’s with a visiting teacher, it’s based on patterns they’ve noticed over many years of teaching.
In the bank shot note case, coaches have to be circumspect in their application of side coaching and note-giving. We can’t comment on every instance of a problem or behavior with an individual, because it can interrupt the flow of the class or scene, or make someone feel as though they are being corrected too much. So we look for other times to make our point, sometimes with another student who rarely does the thing we’re talking about, but did it at just the right time to talk about it.
New students often want to justify their behavior just as I used to do. More experienced students nod and take the note on board without saying anything more than “OK.”, or “I’ll think about that.” They know that they might not be the real target of the comment. They also realize that in the moment, their urge to justify is unhelpful for both themselves and the class.
They also know that comments they dismissed years ago have later proven to be correct! That teachers with decades of experience can see patterns of behavior that they themselves are blind to. And that sometimes it’s tough to accept constructive criticism.
Post-hoc rationalization feels good in the moment. It’s nice to feel right. And as humans, we’re programmed to do it. But it can get in the way of the learning process for both you and your fellow improvisors.
Once I decided that I wouldn’t try to justify myself after a note or comment, the pressure to do so just magically disappeared! I started to take notes in my stride, and not feel that they had to be debated, but rather lightly considered. Maybe it’s right, maybe it’s wrong. Let’s see. Let’s relax and be open to the idea. Ah. That’s better!
So, in the end, my advice is to lightly acknowledge both the note and any feelings you’re having right then, but avoid immediately justifying yourself. In the end, upon reflection, you might still disagree with the note, but by being receptive instead of reactive, you open the door to learning.
(This article was originally published in the International Theatresports Institute’s Newsletter in 2018.)
About Chris Wells:
Originally from the USA, Chris Wells directs and improvises at the Tokyo Comedy Store, which he helped found in 1994. He and his husband, Jun Imai, served as the Asian Region Representatives for the ITI from 2011-2019. He has taught in Los Angeles, Liechtenstein, Germany, Italy, Hong Kong, China and Dubai, and is working on an article based on his Punching Up workshop on humor with and about minorities. He is a professional narrator heard around the world on NHK World, in museum audioguides, and by passengers of Japan’s bullet trains telling them when the next train for Kyoto departs in a soothing voice.