How improv theatre in Auckland unfolds the chaos of reality – reminding us to let go, freestyle and find joy in the moment.

“The clip I’m about to show you will really challenge your perspective,” the young lecturer calls out across the hall to a room full of students. “And bring to the forefront the questions we’ve been considering today.” On the board, today’s topic, ‘reality,’ is scrawled in hasty white chalk. 

An explosion of giggles erupts from the back of the room, followed by a deep chuckle to the left and a small “whoop” from somewhere near the front. The room is cloaked in darkness, save for the front which is bathed in bright white lights. Soft keyboard sounds jingle through the air, and people sit sipping pale ales. It’s not a lecture hall really, but a small theatre venue tucked behind a small bar in the heart of Auckland.

There’s no script—just improvisation. Ten skits, each theme directed entirely by the audience, who shout out random answers to random questions fired at them. Their answers, written in a list on the blackboard, guide the group of actors as they work their way through them over the course of an hour.

The lights on the actor-turned-lecturer fade, and the keyboard grows louder as two other actors rush to take their place on the stage. The lights lift, revealing them standing with their hands in their pockets, waiting. The room is silent in anticipation. It’s quite a moment to find yourself suddenly in the middle of it all, unfolding the complexities of reality for an audience. Taking on the challenge, the actor to the right, a young man, pulls his hand from his pocket, bringing something with it. He leans toward the young woman beside him. “Cigarette?”

For most of my adolescent life, and well into my twenties, I was haunted by a recurring dream. It’s the opening night of a school performance, and I find myself about to step onto the stage. I’m behind the curtains, sweating. I can hear the audience buzzing expectantly on the other side. But, I don’t know my lines. My mind is a blank slate. I haven’t prepared and I need to escape the building immediately, but it’s going to mess up the entire show.  

It’s been a long time since I was in school, but occasionally, this same dream still creeps into my adult life – a lingering remnant of angst that wakes me up with a pounding heart and cold sweat. As I watch these actors effortlessly adjust to every unexpected twist, flowing seamlessly to the next moment despite no prior preparation, I realise they’re living out my actual worst nightmare- embracing it with ease, grace, and total fearlessness. It’s a profound act of surrender.

The girl pauses, considering the question for a moment. It’s a fleeting, almost unnoticeable, moment of readjustment – letting go of any assumptions of where it was going and simply embracing what’s presented. “Sure,” she shrugs, lifting a cigarette made entirely of air from his hand and letting him light it with a similarly airy lighter. She coughs, sputters. 

“No, look, look,” the guy says. “You gotta lean back against the wall, like this.” He leans nonchalantly against the wall behind him, one shoulder resting casually, crossing his foot over the other, cigarette in the corner of his mouth, exuding coolness. The audience is laughing – at the triviality of the clip that moments ago was promised to provoke such deep reflection on the weighty, profound topic of ‘reality.’

The girl, still puffing on her imaginary cigarette, awkwardly leans back against the wall, her body stiff and stretching out like a long ladder, pushing further and further away from it, feet squeaking along the floor, as the guy scratches his head tilted to the side, confused.

As the different skits unfold, it becomes increasingly clear that the actors are living out the very essence of reality in a way many of us shy away from. In a world where we’re taught to be prepared, to never appear uncertain, the actors of Bull Rush challenge us to release that grip. They remind us that life doesn’t follow a script—just like in improv, it’s full of unexpected twists, spontaneous decisions, and moments where the only choice is to jump in without knowing what’s next.

One of the audience’s suggestions, “hot in the club,” sparks the actors into a full-on, impromptu dance sequence. They each take a moment to perform short solo bits, showcasing their individual characters while expressing thoughts running through their minds. One actor stumbles every so slightly, her thoughts struggling to catch up as she calls out, “dancing in the club, um, looking so hot. [pause] I am hottt.”  She laughs, shaking her head, shrugs – and the audience bursts into laughter and applause. The rest of the group picks up the line, and it becomes the chorus they keep coming back to, with the audience singing along too. 

Improv’s “Yes, and…” philosophy speaks to a much deeper human truth. Life doesn’t pause to wait for us to have all the answers. It keeps moving, and our best response is to keep moving with it. To accept what comes, to build on it, and to find humour, learning, and connection along the way. In the world of Bull Rush, there’s no room for fear of failure—only the understanding that each moment, each choice, is an opportunity to shape the next.

And the actor-turned-lecturer was actually right. The ‘clip’ did turn out to be a surprisingly insightful reflection on ‘reality’, as the two actors exchanged their invisible cigarettes alongside subtle pressures of social etiquette and unspoken expectations. It’s a hilarious, spontaneous snapshot of reality in which we often find ourselves looking to others, trying to follow predefined ways of doing things, rather than embracing the freedom to freestyle to our own rhythm.

Bull Rush is a living, breathing reminder that life is improvised, and we’re all invited to play. Embrace the unknown, lean into the uncertainty, and trust that the next moment will unfold just as it’s meant to—no script, no rehearsals, just life. And sometimes, you just have to dance in the club and sing along when the moment comes.