A lot of people don’t take improv seriously.
And to be fair, it’s not exactly a serious business. Most people think of it as a fun warm-up for theatre students, a way to boost public speaking skills, or something trotted out at corporate conferences to coax businessmen out of their shells. When improv is mentioned in pop culture, it’s often the punchline: a nerdy hobby someone did in college, or a cult-like group for adults who don’t have another outlet.
Even within the comedy community, improv is frequently looked down on by stand-ups and sketch comedians… or at the very least, given the side-eye. And that’s if they’re even thinking about improv at all.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why is this nerd rambling on about nerd stuff? And to that unnecessarily harsh thought, I say: “Because I think improv is great! And I want you to think that, too.”
Or, maybe you weren’t thinking any of that. Maybe you had a completely neutral opinion about improv, and I’ve just dug myself into an unnecessarily defensive hole trying to change your mind. Well, GOOD. I like a challenge!
I think the root of improv’s reputation problem is that the general public’s exposure to it is pretty limited. For many people, their first encounter is being invited to a friend’s Level A class show. And they judge the entire art form based on a performance by people who’ve been doing improv for maybe six hours. That’s like attending a second-grade recorder concert and deciding you don’t like music. I’ve been performing improv for over a decade, after starting with my high school team. And just ask my mom — the experience really does make a difference.
To me, watching great improv is unlike anything else.
When a show is really cooking, the energy in the room is electric. It feels like magic. There’s a spark that comes from knowing it’s all being made up in the moment. There’s a danger to it. It’s ephemeral, and that’s part of what makes it so thrilling. Nothing says “you had to be there” quite like trying to explain a joke from an improv show. It’s like describing a weird dream – it just doesn’t land in the retelling (trust me, I’ve tried. People do not enjoy it).
Improv also brings a unique sense of play that you just don’t get with other types of performance. You can see that the performers are genuinely having fun. Even at a show at The Second City, the performers will tell you that their favorite part of the night is the improvised third act after the sketch revue.
At this juncture, I’m sitting here thinking, “How did I get this far into an article about my Fringe show without even mentioning the show yet?”
Well, that’s because I feel the need to defend its very existence as an improv show before I even try to sell you on it. It honestly pains me to say, “Take a chance on improv,” because I really don’t think it’s much of a gamble.
With This Show Will Change Your Life, we’re combining improv with everyone’s favorite topic: themselves. We interview an audience member and use their story to inspire a relatable, laugh-filled hour of improv comedy—one that we hope inspires them, in turn, to change their life.
And even if it doesn’t change your life, I hope it at least changes how you see improv.
At the Toronto Fringe, you have seven opportunities to experience This Show Will Change Your Life , performed by the troupe $20 Sandwich (Brennan Asbridge, Antony Hall, Shaun Hunter, and Chase Jeffels), at Native Earth’s Aki Studio. This show runs July 3 – 13, 2025 and includes select PWYC performances. Tickets are available on fringetoronto.com.
© Brennan Asbridge, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2025
