Why is Improv so Bad?

According to the website AnswerThePublic—which compiles real Google searches by country and language—people in the Netherlands searching in English about improv have some… intriguing questions.

Like:

• How to improv Shakespeare?

• Are improv classes worth it?

• Can improv cure autism?

And then—under the ominously titled Why section—right at the top:

Why is improv so bad?

Ouch. That one stings.

But let’s be honest—we’ve all seen an improv show that didn’t quite land. Maybe it was chaotic, awkward, or just not that interesting. And yes, that happens. To beginners and seasoned performers alike. Long form, short form. Comedy, drama. No one is immune.

But that’s also the thrill of improv: you step on stage with no script and endless possibilities. Sometimes you strike gold. And sometimes… you end up in a surreal scene about lasagna and clowns that makes everyone mildly uncomfortable—especially if you suffer from coulrophobia*.

Still, that’s the deal.

And here’s something else: I’ve also sat through plenty of scripted theatre, experimental performances, exhibitions, and concerts that made me wish I’d just stayed home with a book and a cup of tea. No art form is flop-proof.

So instead of defensively shouting, “Improv is good, actually!”, I find myself more curious about the people asking why it’s bad. What happened? Did someone drag them to a cringeworthy show? Did a class go wildly off the rails? Were they expecting stand-up (as often happens) and got a three-hour Harold about existential furniture instead?

That’s the real question beneath the question. And if we can figure that out, maybe we can reach the skeptics, the cynics, and the comedy-curious—and show them that improv really is worth their time.

Because when it works is electric. It’s people creating something together, moment by moment, in full view of the audience. It’s vulnerable, honest, hilarious, surprising, and deeply human. As an audience member, you’re often on the edge of your seat—not because there’s suspense, but because anything could happen. And trust me: the players don’t know what’s coming either.

*Coulrophobia = fear of clowns

It’s magic.

So the next time someone asks, “Why is improv so bad?”, try not to roll your eyes. Ask them what they saw. What they expected. What felt off. You might find a way to show them the beauty in the mess.

And if you haven’t tried improv yet—come to a show. Take a class. Give it a shot.

Worst case? You’ll laugh a little. Best case? It might just blow your mind.

P.S. While writing this, I looked up other art forms on the same site… and guess what? “Musical theatre” (which I also love) gets the same question: “Why is musical theatre so bad?” So hey, we’re in good company.