Shortform v Longform Part III

For those of us living out in the Wild West that is longform, we still cling to our shortform roots. You could think of shortform as city living in this example. It’s strongly codified and regulated, there’s electricity, running water, warm beds, and police officers to make sure that everything’s okay. Scene running on too long? Edit it into improv jail and start a new one. But outside the city limits, it’s a whole different story. Out here, anything can happen. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, but at the very least, it’s something different every time. Longform sheds old ideas of having to stop between scenes to reset or having gimmicky rules for the promise of something new. But we do like order, and west is mighty wild, indeed. The rules in longform are not short-sighted: they are about over-arching structure, weaving together complex and disparate ideas and themes into a way that makes the trip a little easier. You could think of longform as campfires, seedy saloons, tents, and the “Law West of the Pecos”.

Just like there is no “right” shortform game, there is no “right” longform. Sure there are common ones, let’s take the Harold for an example. The Harold in this case is a well-worn wagon master: experienced, good with a gun, better on a horse, and calm in the face of wild Indians. The Harold is a pretty codified form in its own right. Probably the most structured of all the forms, but then again, if this is your first trip out in the wild, you probably want the comfort of a guide that has traveled this way many times before. The iO runs a number of teams which are all collectively referred to simply as Harold teams. Does this mean that they are only allowed to use the Harold? Of course not. That would be against the way of the west. Do they do other forms? Generally not. Jason Chin told our class one day that when one of his teams proves they’re ready to move on to another form, he starts working with them on that. You can cross the west with ol’ Harold as many times as you want, but you can’t start riding alongside JTS Brown or Close Quarters until you’re ready.

But eventually, you get tired of riding with these other fellers. You’ve crossed the gap hundreds of times, and now you’re ready to make your own form. Most forms start by as variations on existing forms (“Harold used to cross this river, and then Deconstruction avoided this canyon”), but eventually you understand improv enough to completely through caution to the wind and design a path of your own choosing. But after all, this is improv, and we won’t be happy until we have completely improvised everything, stem to stern.

In 1973’s “Enter the Dragon”, the master asks Bruce Lee (do you like how we switch seamlessly from cowboys to martial artists?) “What is the highest technique you hope to achieve?” Bruce Lee replies simply: “To have no technique.” This is big stuff. The groups I looked up to, 3033, Deep Schwa, the Reckoning, all specialize in improv that is unbound by even figuring out anything ahead of time. Impronauts, perhaps, beyond even the rapidly shrinking west, exploring the outer reaches of creativity, where every thing is happening, right now. The problem is, beyond the initial rules from way back in the city, there’s not a lot that anyone can teach you. That is true frontier land out there boys, out into the land where there be dragons. But remember even the most savage territories still have people living in them, it’s just up to you to decide when you’re ready to step out of the city and start exploring.