The limitations of the form
The final Scenes from Communal Living was a massive success. We had a full theatre and the huge cast (9 performers) put on a wild and crazy show that left everyone on an absolute high.
As is the way with these things the late night drinking turned into an unabashed mutual admiration session. And as is my way I spent most of the time dispensing unsolicited career advice. Mostly I told anyone who would listen to get free of improv as soon as possible.
Don't get me wrong: I love improv. In 1989 I was taken (dragged) to Belvoir Street Theatre in Sydney to see Theatresports and my life changed forever. Twenty years on it is the only form of comedy I know I do well.
Improv comedy makes you clever and quick. It sharpens your comic timing and gives you an innate sense of exactly what the audience wants to see and hear. It teaches you to tell stories with beginnings, middles and endings. Great improv is a joy to watch and an even greater joy to perform.
But by its nature it is not written down and therein lies the rub if you want a career that includes the lucrative avenues of radio, TV and film. With a few especially formulaic exceptions like panel shows and Whose Line is it Anyway? the electronic media needs to see a script before it can produce comedy. Sets, props, costumes, sound effects, music and CGI cannot be specced, costed or sourced without a pre-agreed script.
By the time this pretty obvious bombshell dropped on me I was about five years into my comedy career in Sydney. I was regularly performing, making money and constantly being told that improv was as legitimate a comedic form as stand-up or sketch comedy. This was true only until TV and radio came knocking. When they did I had no capacity to actually write comedy and opportunity passed me by. I was pigeonholed as 'just an improviser' forever after until I moved to the UK and reinvented myself as a stand-up.
Many of my (ex-)cast are already on the radar of British TV and radio. On stage they shine but I hope they realise that won't be enough.
In some strange way Scenes from Communal Living is my little dedication to the comedy I love most. My advice to all improvisers is to remember that it's the one form of comedy that you should only ever do for love.