Improv gets psychic By NANCY REDWINE Sentinel staff writer

Where there is no script, there are eyebrows.

"Once we’re on stage, communication is very subtle," said Arch Mott of Freefall Improvisational Theater, which plays its special form of improv Sunday in Santa Cruz.

"And largely psychic."

The games of improvisational theater, also known as theater sports, depend mostly on restrictions to shape their laughs: You can only ask questions. You must sing your lines. You can’t use personal pronouns.

The improv veterans of Freefall Improvisational Theater take those games out of bounds with the evolutionary "long-form improv."

"The idea is, rather than placing restrictions, we can explore more complete scenes, and character and plot development," said Mott. "We can also get away from the purely comedic aspects of improv."

Instead of depending on audience laughter to tell them if they’re doing okay, the Freefall actors must draw on their intuition, understanding and experience of what people want out of a story.

"When you’re telling a dramatic story, everyone’s really quiet," Mott said. "With few obvious audience cues, we really have to stay on top of whether it’s making sense and if this is where people want to go."

Last spring, Mott, along with Bob Giges, Marion Oliker, Sara Lovelady, Rebecca Sunderland, and Mathew Schreiber attended a workshop with True Fiction Magazine, a long-form improv troupe from San Francisco that uses pulp fiction of the ’30s and ’40s for their inspiration.

Back in Santa Cruz, the actors developed their own brand of long-form improv. They were joined by veterans of the improv scene from Scriptease, Loose Cannon Theater and Sponge Cake Babies.

Because of the musical and movement backgrounds of some of the actors, the group incorporated aspects of both into their work.

"It may sound strange," Mott said. "But often we’ll play a piece of music and do some improvisational movement. From that we’ll find characters and start a story."

With the short bursts of story in traditional improv, acts gone wrong can die a quick death. But with long-form improv, a troupe sometimes needs non-violent methods for killing a story.

"We may put a narrator into the story to redirect it," Mott said. "Or we’ll turn the story being told into the story of a movie being made within the story."

Mott came to improv, like many of his peers, in search of a deeper experience of life. Working in Silicon Valley, he felt stunted creatively. He signed up for an improv class with locals Clifford Henderson and Dixie Cox, and it was a natural match.

"There are a lot of life lessons in improv," he said. "I found myself more open to new ideas at work. I started to understand the views of other people better. I am more accepting of myself and other people."

The pressure-cooker collaboration of regular improv requires great trust between actors. In long-form improv, that trust becomes the release valve that keeps drama from turning into group therapy.

"We’ve spent a lot of time establishing trust and becoming comfortable with anything that anyone might offer in terms of where the story is going," Mott said. "We’re learning what it is that someone is trying to do when they introduce an element to the story."

That’s where flexible eyebrows come in handy. Once on stage, the steering of the story depends on taps, winks and subtle references.

"So far we’ve been very fortunate," Mott said. "I can’t say it always works. But when it does, it’s so fulfilling."

Contact Nancy Redwine at nredwine@santa-cruz.com.