Opinions and Facts

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One of the founding principles of improvisational theater (improv) is the idea of “yes and”. It's such a basic building block for everything an improviser does, and you can find its DNA in practically every higher level concept and idea, sort of the binary machine code all improv is programmed under. It indicates both a positive, supportive good nature that improvisers have towards each other as well as a much more technical agreement – as elements are established in a scene (e.g. people, places, things) they become gospel. To disagree with these elements has the effect of confusing observers and performers alike and halting a scene. The “yes” symbolizes and acknowledgement of facts and the “and” indicates an adding to or heightening of established elements. (“I am a doctor.” “Yes, and you are the finest heart surgeon in the world” - or - “Yes, and the drunkest, most incompetent anesthesiologist in the world.”)

In scenes, responding to offers (i.e. facts) in a mechanical way will allow scenes to proceed, but also has the effect of making scenes feel fairly stilted or robotic, which is why a better response is “I know, and” which stands in for the agreement of “yes and” while allowing for responses that can have more nuance, or at least more humanity. So an improv scene is constantly built around agreement, which must mean that actors can never say the word “no”, right? This was a misconception of improvisers for quite awhile, but the Arnett Axiom says that anything we say in real life we can say in an improv scene, and most scenes would be rather strange (and brief) if players agreed to be shot when prompted: “May I kill you?” (unless the character has a death wish, which is the exception rather than the rule). Instead, agreement must be thought of as being based around facts. “We are on the moon” - and now we are. To cast doubt on these facts unravels the world we're in.

This is important, because facts cannot be disputed, but opinions can. Two actors who are playing doctors in a hospital are facts. That one is the best and the other worst are also facts. That one loves the other is an opinion. (Opinions being any fact that is not shared by all individuals.) People are often not descripted in a vacuum, they exist relative to other descriptors. The best heart surgeon in the world at an All-Star Heart Surgeon Convention is fairly unimpressive. That same surgeon at a convention of witch doctors is in a different predicament. Both facts and opinions have to be respected as valid, and treated with the same reverence – one doctor who loves another doctor has a factual component and an opinion component: the other doctor can disagree with that assessment. Often facts can contribute to opinions and vice versa and give us great comedy as a result. Take for example one of my favorite Woody Allen jokes (from “Annie Hall”):

There's an old joke - um... two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one of 'em says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions."

Having opinions provides the stopgap that is not accounted for in “yes, and”, which can make for detail rich ideas; but also makes for scenes that can meander aimlessly or be talked about in a listless, apathetic monotone. Opinion indicates emotional investment and tension as a result. That Duncan is King of Scotland is fact – that Macbeth should kill him and how far he is willing to go are matters of opinion, and that drives the “Scottish Play”. These make for great conflict (which is often present in narrative, but I would argue about it's absolute necessity) since facts cannot be disputed. But with both facts and opinions, we provide improv with the clarity and specificity needed in good writing, and also the humanity and expression found in good acting. Or that's my opinion, at least.