Initiations are the first significant actions taken by the players in a scene. A strong initiation defines the game being played, establishes the identities of the players, and informs the rest of the scene. It instantly alerts the audience to the scene’s intentions. A weak initiation, by contrast, lacks definition and energy, and leaves the audience disoriented and disengaged.
I once saw Sara Gee and Dave Hill of the great improv group King Ten perform a scene at the I. O. West theater in Los Angeles that began with Gee applying (make-believe) makeup to Hill’s face. After a couple of beats, Hill stood and announced, “I…am…a detective!” Their initiation launched a hilarious character that defined the rest of the show’s hilarious performance. A detective. And not just any detective. A detective in makeup. A theatrical detective. An Inspector Clouseau type character. For the next 45 minutes, all Hill had to do to get a big laugh from the audience was repeat the line, “I am a detective.”
The great King Ten. Sara Gee is far right; Dave Hill is third from right.
As always, there are parallels in business. Frank Wells, who had just become president of The Walt Disney Company, introduced himself to 3,000 Disney employees by rappelling down from the rafters of a movie sound stage in full mountain climbing regalia. Steve Jobs’ introductions of new Apple products are always strong initations that launch the performance of those products in the marketplace. Jobs’ energy, enthusiasm and theatricality resonate for a long time with media and customer audiences alike.
Strong Initiation
Michael Wolfson, founder of the web development company Rocket Fuel, once began a meeting about streaming concerts on the internet by having everyone in the meeting recall the first live concert they attended. This was a beautiful initiation that very naturally generated energy and enthusiasm. And it was an ingenious way for all 15 of us in the scene, many of whom were together for the first time, to get to know one another in a way that really meant something. Way better than the name/title/responsibility introductions that are typical of such scenes.
Wolfson
I generally avoid the subject of sports in GameChangers because it confuses the definition of ‘game’. In the book chapter on Initiations, I do, however, tell one sports story, about a football game between Notre Dame and USC in 1977, in which Notre Dame — to the complete surprise of the opposition, the media, and the fans in the stands — entered the stadium wearing green jerseys instead of their traditional blue. The emotional lift it gave the Fighting Irish and the crowd set the tone for a resounding Notre Dame victory that day.
Yesterday, 30 years later, Notre Dame wore green jerseys again in a game against USC. This time, though, it came as no surprise to anyone, because Notre Dame had announced in July that they were going to do it. Assuming that Notre Dame’s objective in the scene was to win the game (versus selling lots of throwback jerseys to their fans between July and October, let’s say) this was a weak initiation. It didn’t surprise anyone, generated no energy, no lift, and gave no new information to the audience. Perhaps predictably, Notre Dame got trounced by the Trojans, 38-0.
Weak Initiation
A strong initiation has an element of surprise to it. The audience should not see it coming. It should lend a sense of anticipation, not predictability, to your presentation. For these reasons, in most business scenarios I advocate not previewing your agenda. Telling your audience what to expect does not constitute a strong initiation, and yet how many business meetings begin this way? If your audience can see what’s coming, if you lose the element of surprise, you are ignoring an essential fundamental of improvisation.
One other business lesson inherent in yesterday’s game. No amount of improvisation can help you if you don’t have a competitive product. In 1977, Notre Dame had Joe Montana in one of those green jerseys. Yesterday, it was the Trojans who had the horses. The Irish could have initiated the scene by flying onto the field from a green blimp on shamrock-shaped parachutes. It would not have made a bit of difference.
Ollie Johnston died Monday at the age of 95. Ollie was the last surviving member of Disney’s ‘Nine Old Men’, the legendary animators who injected life and character into drawings on paper as no one ever had. Words cannot begin to describe the veneration a certain generation of us who began our careers working at Disney had for these men, for Ollie and the rest of them who were still around at the time. All geniuses in their own right.
