All Hail Zindar!

Three and a half years ago, when I was just starting my second undergraduate year, I found myself developing an attachment to a mysterious and unnerving activity called…

Improv comedy

*dramatic gasp* Believe me when I say that taking up improv was a jarring change of character. I was no stranger to performance but improv had always terrified me. The very thought of dashing onstage unprepared with no safety net was a waking nightmare.

Aside from a rather embarrassing moment (that I desperately try to avoid reliving) at a preteen summer school, my improv experience was basically non-existent. Outside of acting, I was straight-laced, introverted, and most certainly shy in public scenarios. I could barely talk to people. For most of my first year at Royal Holloway: University of London, I was content with my quiet, online writing society. There were only five members in the group and every one of them was heavily reserved and terrified of giving any criticism. Just my cup of tea!

My second term took place during the COVID-19 lockdown, and as a result, I got involved with some online shows. As expected, I didn’t foster many strong bonds during these performances. The distance and lethargy were affecting all of us, especially in the drama and theater sphere. By the time we were back on campus in term three, I felt I hadn’t made many lasting connections. I hadn’t found my people.

Reflecting upon it now, improv found me at an important turning point in my life. I never would have sought it out on my own, especially not with my reservations. In fact, the only reason I can talk about this today is because of one person.

The Anna effect

Out of all my former course mates, Anna is certainly the wackiest. She is completely  unique, quick-witted, fiercely intelligent, and progressive. Technically, she was the very first person I’d met at Royal Holloway. We sat together for an exercise during our induction day, only to be paired up again in our first module on campus for a devising activity. She still terrifies me as she did back then (in the best possible way).

Toward the end of the year, she bullied me, albeit playfully (I think) into joining the university’s improv troupe, the Holloway Players. What struck me was not just her conviction but the way she idolized the people in this group. They’d become family to her. They were her obsession. She had no problem voicing that quite violently to me. Her recommendation arrived at a perfect moment: I’d had a particularly bad experience with my flatmates and was searching for an escape. I was willing to try something a little different, even just to play some drama games, watch some goofy improv, and go home.

I took her advice, and it was one of the greatest decisions I’ve ever made.

Stepping out of my comfort zone

The first session I attended took place on the campus meadow in the gorgeous summer heat. I saw a small group of funnily dressed people, a bunch of snacks laid out on two picnic tables. I could see Anna enthusiastically waving me over. Around then, I was thinking, “Well, I’ve been recruited into a cult, haven’t I?” A couple of their leading members introduced themselves. They were third years and social engineers. Complete strangers. I lingered awkwardly, not really pushing myself to enter any conversations about sacrificial lambs or the strange deities they were bound to worship.

Mercifully, the drama games began quickly. We gathered into a circle to play everyone’s favourite theatre staple…

Zip, Zap, Boing!

For those who haven’t attended a single drama class in their life, it’s an energizing warm-up game with very simple rules. At any time, one person holds a ball of energy that must be passed around the circle. They can either:

Zip, and pass the energy to the person adjacent to them.

Zap, and pass the energy to any person standing across from them in the circle.

Or Boing, reflecting an incoming Zip to reverse the direction of play.

Simple enough, right? Well, this wasn’t like any game of Zip, Zap, Boing I’d ever played.

Bending the rules

Within the Holloway Players, there were certain house rules: player-created bits and routines, collected and preserved throughout the years in addition to the typical moves. 

To name but a few, you could call upon Reflector to block a Zap, which would lead to about five or six further utterances passed back and forth in an epic battle sequence. You could turn the Zip into a Boomerang or Ball, causing everyone to duck or jump in turn respectively. Shouting “Andy’s Coming” would have everyone dropping like a ragdoll to the floor like the toys in Toy Story. “Eleanor Cobb” would set off a repetitive chant of “feed me teeth, feed me teeth, feed me teeth” as everyone pranced around and swapped positions in the circle.

So, yes, my initial fears about joining a cult were quickly confirmed.

One of the committee members, Aaron, had cautioned the house rules for newer members by stating that “if you don’t know what’s going on… scream,” which was a surprisingly effective pep talk. He’d also encouraged people to embrace mistakes and improvise around new rules, should they crop up.

I may have taken this a tad too literally.

By this point, the game has been playing for a while. Many exotic and strange rules have been demonstrated. I am given the Zip and turn to Aaron on my left. The word then escapes my mouth before my brain has a chance to process it.

Zindar!

An excruciating moment of silence follows. I begin to regret every life decision that has led to this moment. “What possessed me to say something like that? Where did that stupid thought come from? I have to switch universities. That’s the only option. Anna must think I’m such a buffoon –” 

Then, all of a sudden, Aaron starts to raise his arms while bowing his head in reverence.

All hail Zindar!

Something amazing happens. The entire group repeats the phrase, bowing their heads to Zindar. The president walks over and shakes my hand. Aaron starts singing my praises as a rousing applause picks up.

Not even ten minutes into my first session, “All hail Zindar” was born. A rule that has been preserved and still gets quoted in Zip, Zap, Boing to this day.

I’d cemented my Holloway Players legacy.

Something clicked then. I felt embraced. Comfortable. So much so that toward the end of the session, I mustered the courage to join an official improv game. It went terribly! My whole character arc revolved around a watch that exclusively tells you the time since you last ate a radish.

Naturally, I was given areas to improve in, but this criticism was framed with the most overwhelming encouragement and support. These people were fully geared to laugh with you – that is, to remove the fear of mistakes. They were completely unserious and whimsical. Most importantly, they made me feel proud of the steps I’d taken getting to this point. I’d taken the leap and I wanted to do it again.

I suddenly understood why Anna had been so obsessed. I’d found my people.

Moving forward

To make a long story short, the Holloway Players became my home away from home. We took a comedy set to the now-defunct One Night Records venue in London to rousing success. I’ve additionally performed in two fully improvised musicals and an amateur, spin-off version of “Taskmaster.” I was voted “Player of the Year” in my second year and gifted a “Shining Light” award in my third. Moreover, I became the secretary of the society in my final year alongside Anna as president, working to encourage an unprecedented spike in membership and to further develop the inclusive values the society embodies. I’ve stepped into the role of compère for dozens of sessions and pub shows. I even started running some improv workshops at Goldsmiths University in my Master’s year.

When I think back on all these achievements and memories, I wish I hadn’t been hesitant for so long. Since finding improv, my confidence has skyrocketed, both on stage and off. I’ve become more proficient at networking, applying improv skills in conversation to foster greater communication. I’ve directed several short performances and radio episodes – something my younger self would have paled at the thought of. My greatest and dearest friends are all Holloway Players. I continue to credit so many things to that one moment of pushing my boundaries, forcing myself into strange company, and taking an unprecedented leap.

It transformed my life.

Give it a go!

Whether it’s improv or another skill or activity you’re anxious about, I implore you to set aside your apprehensions. Listen to your friends. The only way you’ll discover if something is for you is by doing it. Get out there!