I’m sitting in Madison Square Park
when I notice the two men on the bench next to me are holding umbrellas.
They’re gesturing toward the sky, unsure if to open them or not. One of them
does, hesitates as he examines the greying sky, and closes it. They remain on
the bench.
Wait! A woman across the way sitting in the dog park is doing something very similar. She, too, has an
umbrella and is holding her palm out to determine if the heavy and damp air is
condensing into raindrops, yet.
Hold on! A couple, that looks like
they are maybe tourists are also sporting umbrellas, fingering the latch, ready
to pop them open at any moment.
All of these characters are wearing
rain jackets, too. I know exactly what is going on. It all adds up! Matching props? Coordinating
costumes? Flatiron District? I’m about to bear witness to an Improv Everywhere
orchestrated flash mob and if I act fast enough, I can be part of it, too!
I have long been a fan of Improv
Everywhere’s spirited guerilla style street performances that bring the joy of
improvisational theater and pranks to citizens who are trying to catch the last
train out of Grand Central to hopefully kiss their children goodnight and form
at least some early memories with them. In a world filled with corporate drones
and the humdrum ritual of clocking in from 9 to 5, Improv Everywhere is a blessed
silver lining.
I race into a corner bodega and
scan the inventory lining the walls. Phone chargers. Nudie mags that sell cars.
Plastic wrapped fruit. Umbrellas . 9/11 snow globes. Wait, yes, umbrellas! I
slap $50 on the counter, grab the umbrella, and sprint back outside. I don’t
have time to get change. Every second I waste in the convenient store leaves a
greater chance I’m missing the prompt to begin the mob.
Fuck! I definitely missed the
prompt. Everybody has already opened their umbrellas and is following the
choreography furiously. Even the rain has started pouring, right on time. They’re
rushing from end to end of the park, almost like a traffic jam, but
coordinated, but also somehow improvised. Some run into the subways, as if they
were truly afraid of the rain. Two men, fit and pretending to be hurried, bump
into each other. From a distance their ensuing argument is reminiscent of an
early Chaplin film, a clear nod to Improv Everywhere’s predecessors in physical
comedy.
I am sad that I missed the event. But
in sadness there is beauty. And in beauty there is chaos. Gestalt psychology
teaches that the mind will self organize concepts into a whole that is greater
than the sum of its parts. Each
performer, alone in their effort is unified by Improv Everywhere’s greater
purpose. A misstep in choreography, a misunderstanding the required costume
elements, even an umbrella unable to open in time, are all softened and
absorbed into the powerful mounting tidal wave of improvised, but also fully
planned out, ceremonial pranks. One cannot help but be transfixed by the
kaleidoscopic dance unfolding in front of them. What seemed merely like
plebeians going about their day was a farce. Next time you walk down the
street, ride the subway, or hang out nearby a popular New York City tourist
landmark, keep an eye on those who surround you. They are dancers and they actors
and improvisers and they are everywhere.
