Some of the best moments on Saturday Night Live are when they break character—when a joke is so funny that the professionals cannot hold it together. You can watch compilations of these moments on YouTube. Fans love these moments, so telling my students they should try never to break often upsets them. To understand why, we have to understand the second show.
In improv, the first show is what happens between the characters. The second show is what happens between the actors. Generally, when we talk about scenes, we are referring to the first show. However, audiences are keenly aware that they are watching an improvised show. That awareness is an essential part of the art. In good improv, the audience enjoys the scene, but also, they wonder, “How did they just come up with that?” It’s the same with magic shows. Even though the magician makes it seem that the rabbit just materialized out of thin air, the show would be much less entertaining if we truly believed that. In the first show, rabbits can spontaneously come into existence. In the second show, the magician performed an amazing sleight of hand. Audiences enjoy the show on both levels.
Mischievous improv often lives in the second show. Two players might attempt to say something at the same time. A player might have to repeat themselves verbatim. They might spontaneously have to create poetry or a riddle. Setting these challenges and seeing the improvisers struggle reveals the illusion a bit. The audience is reminded that the show is indeed improvised. These moments set improv apart from scripted theatre. Audiences delight in seeing improvisers make little mistakes, but in a scripted play, we don’t want to be reminded that we are watching people play pretend. We want to be immersed in the story—the first show, the only show.1 Of course, this immersion is desirable in improv as well, and experienced improvisers will know the right moments for second show shenanigans.
Short-form improv loves the second show, often involving complicated rules that the improvisers must follow (see The Difficulty Curve of Improv Games). In narrative improv, the second show moments are used sparingly. In a more serious show2, the players might never go for a second show moment. These moments can still occur though, because it’s improv, and players will make mistakes. A logical inconsistency or an anachronism can suddenly break the immersion, reminding everyone in the room that this is an improv show. These unintentional second show moments will always happen. In a comedic scene, you can lean into them, and turn the mistake into the game of the scene (not always though, see You’re Not All Named Gerald). In a dramatic scene, you should quickly correct the mistake and move back into the first show.
When second show humor works, it’s because it is a genuine moment of connection. “The truth is funny.”3 Therefore, when a second show moment is disingenuous, the audience feels like they are being lied to. Of course, they’re watching actors. They are expecting to be lied to, but only in the first show. For example, consider an improviser who is made to sing a song in the middle of the scene and is caught off guard. That little moment of distress enhances the tension. When they finally deliver the improvised song, the audience enjoys it even more having seen the actor’s struggle. Then, if it turns out that the song was pre-written and the actor was only pretending to be flustered, the audience feels cheated. If instead, the actor makes it very obvious that they are launching into a pre-written song, the audience will enjoy it all the same.
The same principle applies to magic shows on TV. We know the magician is about to fool us. However, if the trick is cutting to a different shot and splicing in footage of a studio audience looking shocked, we feel cheated. When we falsely assume the hat is empty, shame on us. When we falsely assume the trick was done live, shame on you. You can lie to us in the first show, but not the second show. Lying in the second show erodes trust with the audience.
Finally, we return to the subject of breaking. When an actor breaks, it is a second show moment. It is an honest reaction by the actor. Therefore, you cannot break on purpose. In fact, you must earnestly try not to break. The harder you try not to break, the funnier it is when you do. In comedy, this may seem paradoxical, but it makes sense when you understand the second show.
There may be moments in a scripted play where a character “breaks the fourth wall,” i.e., speaks directly to the audience. This is a related, but different concept. In a fourth wall break, the audience sees the character outside the context of the scene. In a second show moment, the audience sees the actor outside the context of the scene.
Improv doesn’t have to be funny! Dramatic improv is great, and you should check it out if you can. However, even comedy shows can benefit from having a dramatic scene mixed in.
From Truth in Comedy by Charna Halpern, Del Close, and Kim Howard Johnson.
Another great read Sid! On that third footnote, any other comedy or improv books you recommend?