Steven W. Disbrow and Improv Chattanooga: Online and Funnier than Ever
My earliest experience with improv comedy was watching a variety show in the mid 1990s in Chattanooga (I think it was at Barking Legs Theater) where a group of high school and college age comedians interacted in the personas of Smurfs, including “puts things down his pants Smurf” and “tapeworm Smurf.”
Years later, of course, there was Whose Line Is It Anyway? on television. Later still, improv comedy would feature at The Floor Is Yours. And then Improv Chattanooga opened its doors. For several years, Chattanooga was treated to live, affordable shows where audience and actors joined together to create stories, everything from short skits to long-form, Chattanooga-based soap operas.
And now, with the pandemic, Improv Chattanooga has moved online. Which means the energy is … very different … but it also means you get local comedy piped straight to your home. Better yet, thanks to increased reliance on the magical World Wide Web to facilitate comedy, Chattanooga comedians are playing with improvisers from around the world. And you get to see that, too. Wahoo!
Steven W. Disbrow, Cofounder and Artistic Director of Improv Chattanooga — better known as “Diz” — laconically describes the new normal as “very different.”
“When you’re a performer, you get on stage and you have the feedback, not just of fellow performers, but of the audience as well,” he says. “You get that energy, positive or negative, for the entire performance. But with [online improv], you don’t really have anything coming at you.”
Virtual improv is a new artform, he continues. The improvisors’ rules remain in play — listen, “yes and,” and respect the reality of the scene — but “the feeling is so different.”
When the pandemic hit, improvisers worldwide looked to tools such as Twitch and Zoom to connect improvisers and audiences. The experiment started with a few hiccups, and things still aren’t perfect, but improv comedy is moving ahead full steam.
“We use OBS, online broadcast software, and you pipe your Zoom meeting into that,” Disbrow says. “You can do overlays, text, animation, color filters — it’s a very powerful piece of free software.”
The resulting shows are weirdly compelling. With each actor in his or her own square, and the only “audience” laughter coming from the other actors’ mics (“we decided early on to leave our mics on so we could hear each other laugh,” Disbrow says), it’s a surreal way to experience comedy. We’re used to experiencing comedy in a group setting or in front of a studio audience, and it’s unsettling not to have those social cues to laughter.
Interactions are odd, too, as actors don’t know where their Zoom square appears on viewers’ screens. Which way do you look if you’re speaking to someone? Do you blow a kiss left or right, up or down? And there’s inevitably a little sound gap, a little more silence, around each bit of interaction.
Despite that, there’s a sort of hovering, avant-garde attraction to watching virtual improv. Improv works on causality, with one person taking another’s cue and running with it. Avant-garde humor involves bizarre interconnections and illogical events. In virtual improv, elements of both are present.
Some of improv’s usual games, or setups, work poorly online, Disbrow says, and some work better. Long form, he says, has done exceptionally well.
“Really, it’s a joy to do it in this virtual medium,” he says. “You’re telling a story and that has been sort of revelatory. The content hasn’t really changed so much as the means of delivery. You have to fine tune your listening skills. Things fall apart when people are talking over each other.”
Also revelatory was how, when improvisors switched their focus online, their existing connections forged through attending conferences and visiting each other’s shows became more immediate and full of possibility. Online, as long as you pay attention to the time zone and are willing to improvise at odd hours, you can play with improvisors from all over the world, learning more about their individual quirks and approaches to the art.
“I’ve played with people in the deep south who are stuck up and hate to hear a curse word,” Disbrow says. “I’ve played with people with the most posh English accents and the filthiest stuff comes out of their mouths. The nice thing about improv is the rules are the same no matter where you are in the world.”
New connections means new possibilities. Disbrow just tried out for a Boston troupe that, he says, is auditioning people from everywhere. Living in Chattanooga is no longer a hurdle for finding big-city gigs. Improv festivals, too, are going online. The need to be responsive to future pandemics — plus the exciting possibilities of virtual improv — are ensuring that the new art form stays active.
“A lot of troupes are going to keep their virtual presence after all this is over,” Disbrow says. “We will see theaters opening up. I want Improv Chattanooga to meet again in a physical location. But we’ll have a virtual squad as well, broadcasting to people all over the world …
“This is the silver lining, the blessing in the crap sandwich. We’re meeting and playing with people that we’d never have gotten to play with before. It’s freeing and maddening. I want to go to London and play with friends in the extreme improv show there. It’s not gonna happen for a while. But now we have this outlet to learn from each other, steal things from each other, and grow as a community.”
Looking ahead, Disbrow says he hopes to help his troupe members use the virtual space to engage with as many other improvisers and troupes worldwide as they can. Additionally, Improv Chattanooga is looking at moving into a new physical location, but there’s still a lot of uncertainty there, Disbrow adds. And there are new topics to address, perhaps with some struggle at first, over the new medium. Anyone who saw Disbrow appear in Ann Law’s Red, improvising with actor and dancer Cherokee Ellison, will know how compelling improv can be at addressing topics such as racism, and privilege.
“We’ve always been willing to go dark, and there are somethings darker than others right now,” Disbrow says. “Comedy is not always the goal of improv. Some of the best improv I’ve seen on our stage is work that made me cry — thoughtful, emotional work. Improv is wide-ranging in what it can do, what it can bring to an audience.”
Personally, Disbrow says, he’s always been an introvert and hasn’t had to struggle with distancing. He lives with his mother and his wife Bonnie, who, he says, helped him crawl out of the massive depression associated with “waiting for something good to happen,” when often it seems like it never does.
It’s easy to underestimate ourselves. But improv is certainly, if not “something good” itself, a practice that tends toward good, as any art must be that forces us to be really present with each other.
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Find Improv Chattanooga’s Good, Old-Fashioned, Virtual Improv Show at facebook.com/improvchattanooga, twitch.tv/improvchattanooga, or youtube.com/improvchattanooga. They play every Friday at 8 p.m. Eastern.
You can learn more about Diz at facebook.com/stevendiz or on his podcast at gothroughthedoor.com.