As I started telling local improv buddies that I was bringing my favorite show format back to Amsterdam (Saturday March 9th! Tickets €12!), I heard from more than one friend—two, actually—that they felt anxious about it. That seemed like a good reason to jot down my thoughts about Maestro, and why it’s nothing to fear.

If you have no idea what Maestro even is, here’s a summary…

Maestro is a competitive improv format where 12 improvisers perform short-form improv scenes in small groups. The audience gives each scene a score, 1 through 5; at intermission, the lowest-scoring players are knocked out; and at the end of the night, the last person standing is crowned Maestro and awarded the coveted Canadian Five-Dollar Bill.¹

To admit my obvious bias, I’ve been playing Maestro for a long, long time. It’s been a weekly show at the Hideout Theatre in Austin since 1999, which I’d bet money² is the longest such streak in the world. That means it’s been a regular part of my life since I began taking improv classes in 2001. I grew up on this stuff.

Given that history, I wasn’t surprised to hear about the anxiety! There are a few reasons people shy away from this kind of show:

1. “Improv shouldn’t be competitive. The entire basis of the art form is supporting each other, not trying to win.”
2. “I’m not competitive. I just want to play a scene, not worry about how to impress the audience and get a high score.”
3. “I don’t like ‘format’ shows. Too many rules to follow! Can’t we just play improv?”

All extremely valid concerns. Here’s my shortest response, which I’ve been telling players backstage for 20 years:

Maestro is not a competition.
It’s a show about a competition.

Think of Maestro like pro wrestling (without the costumes and violence). You might make a show of wanting a high score for your scene, only to immediately help your so-called “opponents” get a high score by giving side support to their scene.

And before you go buying face paint, even the pro-wrestling analogy is a bit too far. Your job is to play short-form improv scenes and let the show take care of itself. Everyone gets at least two scenes before we start eliminating. And when you do get cut, great! Take a big bow, then join the audience and watch the rest of the show while the remaining players play for the win. The competitive format is what makes Maestro great. As I always tell players before the show: “You’re not going to win! Just go have fun.”

And one last thing: if you genuinely don’t care about winning, the audience will eat that shit up. (They’re just as likely to boot somebody who’s itching to “win” rather than improvise.) One year at the Out of Bounds Comedy Festival, I was asked to play a Maestro that didn’t even *start* until 11pm. I did *not* want to play well; I wanted to get to the festival afterparty. So I took the stage not giving a single, solitary fuck about the Canadian $5 bill. I was only there to be silly and weird and mischievous and get the audience to vote me off the stage as quickly as possible.

Yeah, you can guess what happened.

1. To that, I’ll add one factoid that I literally didn’t learn until this month: Maestro was born in The Netherlands!
2. $5 Canadian, naturally.