Improv and Drama School w/ Nadège Nguyen
“Improv helps me to be brave. It helps me do first and figure out the why later”
We spoke to FA improviser and actor Nadège Nguyen about how an improv class in LA led to her becoming an actor and why every actor should train in improv.
Hey Nadège. Hope you’re well! Can you tell us a bit about yourself?
I am a French actor, born and bred in Paris from Vietnamese immigrant parents. I come from a very working class background, and didn’t see acting as a possible path for me. I chose to work in production instead, keen for status and a sense of security. Funnily enough, it was when I took an improv class in 2018, that I became inspired to train as an actor.
Can you tell us more about how you got involved with improv and where it led?
I took my first improv class ever in Vietnam in 2011. I was working in advertising, my French friends had set up an improv group for expats and I did a class. I tried it again in 2018, at the famous UCB LA. I am very shy by nature and being the centre of attention was my worst nightmare but I wanted to scare myself. I almost threw up before getting up on stage! Our coach, Ari Voukydis, made us do a 'post mortem' warm up exercise, where we had to imagine ourselves after the show and comment on something that went well. It somehow hacked into my brain and as soon as I stepped on stage, I felt like I was home. The spotlights were so bright that I couldn't see anyone's face, but I could feel this universal love and acceptance. I was stage struck. After, I realised I wanted more of that feeling and decided to seek training as an actor. I took a series of workshops in LA and Paris before moving to London in January 2019. I got very lucky and was scouted to study at the Academy of Live and Recorded Arts where I am currently studying a Postgraduate degree in Acting.
Have you carried on doing improv alongside acting? How do you think they engage with one another?
I did a year’s training at the FA and still perform. I think improv informs my acting and vice versa; if I may make the analogy, acting rests my improv game and improv rests my acting game. Acting can get very cerebral, with character research, actioning, and keeping in mind acting techniques from various practitioners. Improv helps me to be brave. It helps me do first and figure out the why later, to tune in with my impulses and make me listen and react as a human being.
Does improv still benefit you when you’re working with a written script?
Improv tells you a lot about storytelling, scripted or not. Whenever I read a script now, I think of improv’s principles of 'game', unusual points of views and the voice of reason. There is a notion in acting called 'end gaming’; where you fall into the trap of playing a scene knowing (as an actor) how it ends, when your character shouldn’t. I find that improv helps me to avoid end gaming because it’s all about playing the truth of the character, keeping your point of view whilst listening actively. Improv helps me keep a performance fresh and alive because it requires you to be fully present at all times.
And what about your relationship with the audience?
Improv made me understand the intricate mechanisms of laughter. It’s helpful to stay connected and to listen to the audience without being too needy; the same applies to acting. If I rig my acting to get approval from an audience I'm setting myself up for rejection and not being truthful; wanting something from the audience is a very strong turn off. Personally, when I’m in the audience, I need to feel safe and I need to know the performers on stage are in control. If I am given the responsibility as an audience member to make the performer feel validated, it makes me pull away. I learned in improv that I should never try to make a scene funny and I can make that parallel with an emotional scene in acting. If I want to convey sadness, or loss and upset, trying to make the audience or myself cry on stage feels forced. Actually, I find the more I’m trying to not cry, the more human it is. It allows the audience to meet me halfway and to feel on their own instead of me telling them what to feel.
Do you think improv has made you a more confident performer?
Confidence is a tricky subject for me. I have crippling stage fright, but there is something liberating about improv because it makes me feel courageous. I need to do improv on a regular basis to remind myself to be silly and to be playful, because I often get caught up in the self-conscious nature of acting. The truth is, acting is super silly, and doing stinky acting in the process of rehearsals is hilarious and fun. Comedy helps me to embrace failure, trial and error, and make choices with lightness and candour. There is something about extreme joy being on the other side of fear. Finding out that I didn't die from embarrassment and that I showed up for myself and for my scene partners is very intoxicating.
Improv in itself is a performance without a net. There is nowhere to hide; the only thing we have is our ability to listen and respond. I was once told by my voice coach Mary Irvin that acting and improv are very 'simple;’ note the nuance between 'simple' and 'easy'. Simple is probably the hardest thing to achieve. If I can hack my brain and stop all the chatter and the inner criticism and the need for approval, and the way I did it before in rehearsal, and just listen and be present, that is a successful performance in my book.
Do you think improv benefits your character work as an actor?
There is something freeing in disguising truth by putting on a voice, a physical posture, an unusual objective or point of view; it stops the fear of exposure and keeps me away from the cerebral choices of having to make up an entire character with a complete back story. The merging of both somehow creates a sweet spot to be one removed but remain secretly me. It’s like putting on a costume, or a disguise, and acting even more like myself, like I would if no one was watching.
How does improv make you stronger in an ensemble?
Improv has definitely tamed and reframed my natural tendency to be hyper competitive and self-conscious. Comparing oneself breeds so much anxiety and fear. I was recently told by actor Paapa Essiedu to remember: no one cares about you, they care about the story. As an actor and an improviser I shouldn't focus on what people think, that'll get me in my head and pull me out of the present. It is easier said than done when you’re as competitive as I am but, to quote Meisner: 'all on you, nothing on me'. The story tells me what to do. It takes practice but improv teaches me to trust that something interesting is going to come organically. It's important to stay in the scene even if I'm on the backline.
Similarly, with acting, it is very uncomfortable if actors wait for their lines like robots. I find that, when I’m in the audience, I tend to look at the actor who doesn't have a line, because I am receiving information and I want to see how they react. In improv, there is often an unspoken agreement, that putting aside your great idea and following your scene partner makes for the most exciting scenes. If you as the player are surprised then the audience will be surprised, and entertained, too.
Obviously failure, or rejection, is a big part of acting. Has improv helped you deal with it?
With failure, I know that sometimes, when I feel scared of doing something 'wrong' in a scene I tend to do something safe. For me, it’s space work; pouring a make believe glass of wine so I can be make believe disinhibited! In acting, it would be saying a line the way I've said it during rehearsals. But the truth is, when I'm scared on stage, I am not having fun, and when I'm not taking any risks, I feel disappointed in myself. Exposure is scary but caring less about how people see me is more generous. It comes down to embracing the possibility of losing control. I used to want to be perceived as the good or nice character, even though getting angry or being blunt is much more human, satisfying and cathartic to watch. It’s very fun and liberating to play the baddie as well.
Acting is a career that breeds rejection. The amount we have to face is infinite, and you have to be in love with acting to pursue a career in it or, like me, be delusional! Improv has a very philosophical quality to it in that it's only happening once; that helps with the impermanence and brevity of rejection. If I make a terrible move, I can dust myself off and return with a new choice. As an actor, I have a tendency to take long pauses before I say my line. I think that comes from feeling unsure of the way I landed my previous thought, quickly having a team briefing with myself, before coming back out with a new tactic. That's the result of rejection I think. If I feel rejected I'll get hurt and pull away and that will colour the rest of my performance. Staying on the back line after making a (in my head) sh*t move is the equivalent of these pauses in improv. Even though embracing rejection and letting the audience in is far more interesting than pretending it didn't happen. We celebrate failure in improv; we acknowledge and wink to the audience that we know what just happened instead of awkwardly trying to cover it up.
Has improv introduced you to new people in the arts?
As an actor in training I have met with a few successful working actors through improv as well as screenwriters, directors and comedians. Mingling with the cast post show has definitely blossomed into friendships and inspired me to start teams of my own. It’s also gotten me to be in an article in The Guardian, and I am currently in the process of developing a script for TV with someone I've met at the FA.
And, conversely, how does your experience as an actor inform your performances in improv?
More recently I’ve started relying on my acting chops more during improv scenes. I remind myself to build relationships as if everything I say is scripted. Having strong emotional reactions helps inform my character, giving a reason for being in the scene, focusing on the story, rather than a quick game. It helps me take my time and be okay with silence. There are great and very powerful pauses in improv scenes; they’re a sign of confidence. Over-talking often comes from fear. I know how to use rhythm and pace and to shift emotions and to let my body language, or the tone of my voice, tell the story, or to observe these in my scene partner, so I can make a coherent and strong offer.
Do you think improv has benefited your life outside of acting too?
Improv has definitely kept me sane and is a healthy obsession on the side. There is something wholesome about having each other's back and making up silly scenes that may be secretly deep. It helps ground me and keeps me connected and really feeds my soul. There's nothing better than these precious belly laughs.
What would you say to an actor who is thinking about taking an improv course?
I would recommend improv to any actor, regardless of your experience. It reminds you not to overcomplicate things. The level of alertness it requires gets into your muscle memory. It's a way to practice acting without having to learn lines; like barre work in ballet. If you put in the love, time and effort, you will get to a level of specificity that will help with your acting technique too. It also does wonders with ensemble work; it’s got that hive mind quality that you absolutely want to bring in the rehearsal room to establish the world of the play. It is also a great way to hack an artist or writer's block, because it gets you to do instead of think. It helps keep a performance fresh instead of a microwaved one.
What are you most excited about doing when things get up and running again?
I enjoy the moment to moment discoveries with the audience, I love being surprised, and the belly laughs. I can't wait to get back up on stage and to be in the room with a silly, fun, hilarious and daring cast. The regularity of shows was my entire world before everything shut, and I really long to be fed by watching good improv again. It's always such a high to see new things by really brave improvisers. Seeing something I've never seen before is what I miss the most I think, when performers break the rules and trust that something special will emerge from it. That's what I'm all about.
