Many, many Berlins

The least German, but most ‘improv’ of German cities? Yes, but also no. What? Yes, I know. Both ‘all of the above’ AND ‘not applicable.’

Look, I’m in no way cool enough to live in, visit or even comment on Berlin with any authority. But here I go anyway.

On a weekend in the German capital recently, I was struck by its contradictions. Obviously Berlin spent 40 years divided by a literal wall, but its duality is still surprising. Two, or more, things seem simultaneously true wherever you look.

Berlin is popularly ‘the least German’ of Germany’s major cities. And yet a big stein of beer and a giant sausage await EVERYWHERE. That’s no ordinary sausage though: for some reason it must be drenched in curry sauce.

Currywurst? It’s the Currybest

On the same day: I saw both a textbook Oompah band, and a leather jacket-clad 50-something man beautifully crooning 80s power ballads in a traditional market. All these very different things seemed simultaneously pretty German to me.

Berlin’s streets are covered in graffiti and worn concrete, but also immaculately clean. I was there doing a half marathon (BARF) - the start/finish area had plentiful toilets and even showers, and yet leagues of runners were merrily popping a squat in the surrounding parkland. Top tip, double layer your picnic blankets in Tiergarten.

Berlin’s young people seem really cool, but also carry themselves awkwardly and almost apologetically, like anywhere else. In 2025, many rock a moustache and mullet combination befitting the era of Rudi Voller, but this is also somehow completely up-to-date. I felt totally square in my millennial London normcore kit (cord overshirt, slim jeans, nice trainer. Check check check).

Rudi Völler - 28 years old. And also the coolest person in Germany 37 years later

More seriously, Berlin is painfully re-united, with a complex and very visible history. It wears its scars with dignity, but also has a young, creative population that doesn’t seem to give many shits about conforming to expectations.

It’s phenomenally ugly, but the Brandenburg Gate, Alexanderplatz TV tower, remaining Wall segments and various memorials are all impressive in their own way. The Reichstag building alone is a glass Norman Foster masterpiece smashed into a neoclassical government building.

Basically, Berlin is the capital of opposite land. I’m not sure what to do with that, except there’s mileage in approaching improv with that spirit too. I’ve written before about a 15-minute improv city, but there’s something specific about Berlin’s ‘vibe’ (Again, I have no authority to be commenting on the vibe of anything, unless its a branch of Gail’s)

Improv is often messy and unstructured, but has a million different ‘forms’ to guide performers towards something watchable and coherent. Between tag-outs, sweep edits, Canadian crosses, revolving doors, pattern games, organic edits etc there’s tons of odd ways to navigate through a show. And yet audiences figure out pretty quickly how it works.

Improv can reward cheap laughs (literally fart gags and a well placed ‘FUCK!’), while also being capable of legitimately profound or moving moments. You can get more from a silent piece of spacework than a crafted verbal initiation. You’ve seen a thousand fun narrative shows, but how many of those stories do you remember?

We improvisers can simultaneously seem quite cool and esoteric, but also insufferable dorks drunk on in-jokes. It’s the least ‘comedy’ of the comedy arts. In the UK, it’s perceived as way below sketch, sitcoms, panel shows and stand-up in the respectability stakes. Bad improv is the worst, but the good stuff often feels far beyond what sketch can do.

Improv is at once very accessible (no props, costumes, sets etc), while having layers of impenetrable barriers to stage time.

What’s left? Berlin is not some hyper-planned genteel museum to urbanity. It’s got all the chaos of city life in primary colours. Improv is similarly feral and untamed, but its best performers are still studied in the technical principles that make it work. Like Berlin can’t and shouldn’t be Rome, improv can’t and shouldn’t be scripted theatre. Accept the contradictions and limitations as essential parts of what makes them work.

ENDNOTES

Berlin Veterans, by the ever excellent Meditations for the Anxious Mind.

I had a blast teaching improv in Woking over March with my old mucker Nick Oram of DNAYS. Pip and team have built a lovely community there. If you’re nearby, get stuck in

From the archive: I may be bricking myself ahead of running Manchester Marathon on 27th April, but I’ve also learned lots about myself and creativity: 9 things running taught me about improv.

More names of improv teams coming to your local venue soon: Wonderclunk, Not for me Clive, ALF 2.0, Airtime Remorse, Spider Monkey Squad, Cocked Up: the improvised prison drama, Artemis Howl, and Giggly Gibbon