A Beginner's Guide to Improv Formats

The first time you learn a format, it can feel like a lot. There’s a structure to understand, rules to remember, beats to hit in the right order. It’s easy to walk into a show feeling like you need to execute the format correctly or the whole thing falls apart.

Here’s something worth hearing early: it doesn’t really work that way.

A format is just a loose agreement amongst the performers about how a show could come together. It’s a blueprint, not a contract. The scaffolding, not the building.

No audience member has ever walked out thinking “they really nailed that format.” What they remember is the scenes. The moments. The feeling of watching a group of people genuinely playing together.

A group of performers who are connected, committed, and having fun can put up a great show with almost no format in place. The reverse isn’t true. A tight format won’t save a show where nobody’s really with each other.

So as you learn the formats below, try to hold them lightly. They’re useful to know. They give a show shape. But during the show itself, the format matters a lot less than what’s happening between the performers on stage.

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Serve the Scene, Not the Show

This is probably the single most useful thing to keep in mind across any format.

A show is just a collection of scenes. If you try to play the whole show at once, managing the narrative arc from the sidelines, thinking about what needs to happen next to honour the format, you’re taking on way too much. It’s a lot of pressure, and it tends to pull you out of the actual work.

The simplest alternative: focus on the scene in front of you. Be present for what’s happening right now. That’s it.

When you do that, the show tends to take care of itself. Themes emerge naturally. Callbacks happen because something was memorable, not because someone engineered them. The format gets satisfied without anyone having to manage it.

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The Main Formats

These are the ones you’re most likely to encounter, especially if you’re learning at a school that draws on Del Close’s approach to long-form improv.

Montage

The most open of the major formats, and usually the first one you’ll perform. A Montage is essentially a series of scenes, each one standing on its own. Characters might return as callbacks, or a theme might develop across the show, but none of that is required. Scenes can be completely unrelated, and that’s fine.

The Montage is the default format for most jams, and for good reason. It’s accessible. There’s no complicated structure to navigate. You can jump up and play, and the show finds its own shape from there.

Harold

The Harold is often described as the foundational long-form format, the one that contains all the core skills in one place: organic scene-work, group games, recurring characters, themes, and heightening threads that develop across the show. It has a defined structure, and learning it well tends to sharpen a lot of the underlying instincts that carry into other formats.

If you want to go deeper on the Harold, there’s a full breakdown here.

Armando

The Armando is a premise-based format built around a guest monologist, usually someone from outside the cast, who shares a real-life story. The performers then take elements of that story and remix them into scenes, returning to the monologist a few times throughout the show to generate new material.

The monologue provides a rich starting point without dictating where the scenes go. It’s a generous format to perform in, because the inspiration is already there when you walk on stage.

More on the Armando here.

Deconstruction

The Deconstruction is a more thematically focused format. There’s usually a central scene that carries through the show, and the rest of the scenes expand outward from it, exploring the elements, emotions, and ideas it contains. It has a more defined structure than a Montage, but the core instinct is still about following what’s interesting rather than executing steps in order.

A fuller explanation is here.

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A Few Things Worth Watching Out For

Don’t let the format drive the show. If you notice yourself thinking “we need to do a group game soon” or “I should probably start a second beat now,” that’s a sign you’re playing the format instead of the show. What happens when you bring your attention back to what’s in front of you is usually simpler and more interesting than what you were planning.

Don’t get too far ahead. It’s easy, especially early in a show, to start planning your moves for later. You’re in the first round of scenes and you’re already trying to figure out what your second beat will be. That kind of forward-thinking tends to pull you out of the present, which is exactly where you need to be. Trust yourself to make the connection when it’s actually time to make it. You will.

Different teachers will teach the same format differently. Some approaches are loose and feel easy to play. Others are more rigid, and might leave you feeling like you’re not quite getting it. That’s normal. It doesn’t mean the format isn’t for you, and it doesn’t mean the teacher is wrong. It might just mean their approach isn’t a natural match for your instincts. Knowing that can take a lot of pressure off.

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The Bigger Picture

Formats are worth learning. They give you a shared language with other performers, they provide a useful shape for shows, and understanding them deeply does make you a better ensemble player.

But they’re a starting point, not a destination. The best shows tend to be ones where the format becomes invisible, where the audience is so drawn into the scenes that the structure never enters their mind.

That’s what you’re aiming for. Not a perfect Harold. Just a show where everyone’s really there, really playing, and the audience can feel it.

The format will be fine. Focus on the scene in front of you.