Last night I went to an improv show in Miraflores and had my first Spanish improv experience. Huge shoutout to Imprología for a great night.
Beyond being a fun way to spend a Friday evening, watching Peruvian short form improv for two hours was a great language diagnostic. There was an emcee who introduced each group and was quite into talking with the crowd, cold calling couples, commenting on fun outfits and more. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was about to start talking to me, but luckily he was actually directing his comment at the row behind me. I could more or less follow what the emcee was saying, his voice amplified and made clear by a microphone. From the occasional splashes of laughter, it seems that audience members sometimes had pretty witty responses - for me though, since their responses were mumbled and used words I don’t know, their jokes fell on linguistically befuddled ears.
The show pitted two small improv groups of three against one another. The rules of each exercise or scene were explained by a referee, different from the emcee. I could follow those rules pretty well, probably in part because I’m familiar with these games and improv vocabulary more generally. I usually understood the gist of the scene, but invariably would not catch some of the laugh lines. Highlights for me included the adventures of Super Choclo, accompanied by a great choclo corn physicality, and a scene involving a witch trying to steal another character’s youth, done in the style of a biblical parable.
After one scene from each team, each audience member would vote on which team had done better, showing either the purple or yellow side of the paddle given to them at the door. In spite of not understanding fully each scene in the way I would an English scene, I usually had a very clear idea in my head of who I thought did a better job. Stage presence, different accents and tones of voice, and physicality need no translation.
I’ve tried my best to crack jokes with my host family in Spanish and Mandarin, with mixed results. Often they don’t fully land, but every once in a while, a comment under my breath about the dog, or a story about an interaction on the bus will get a laugh. Humor at its best builds strong bridges held together by shared laughs and understanding. Jajaja.