The only way to begin is by beginning

A few years ago, it seemed like I was seeing constant advertisements for the Dropout streaming channel on YouTube and Instagram, in the form of clips from their improv show “Make Some Noise.” And I’ve mentioned it before, but I honestly wasn’t extremely impressed.

My reaction was largely the same, unsurprisingly, as how I felt about the material on College Humor: it’s fine, but I never felt like they nailed it to the degree that I’d want to come back regularly. It often felt like they’d come up with something that was funny during the concept stage, but somehow didn’t carry into the final version.

It’s hard to write and deliver outstanding comedy in a scripted format, and even something with all of the money as Saturday Night Live still has a pretty high miss-to-hit ratio. And especially since I don’t like improv in general, it was even harder for me to be blown away by anything I was seeing from Dropout.

But there was a key difference, which was the vibe. Even in short clips, you could tell that the “contestants” and the host Sam Reich were being extremely supportive of each other. They’re laughing and cracking each other up, and even if it were being played up to make up for the lack of a live audience, it didn’t feel forced. (Or worse, that they were a bunch of people all delighted in themselves). It was positive enough — and frankly, a subscription to Dropout is cheap enough — that I subscribed mostly just to support that kind of feel-good atmosphere.

Fast forward a couple of years, and now Dropout is our go-to channel to watch during dinner, and I’m eagerly anticipating new episodes of Game Changer; Um, Actually; and their new series Parlor Room. I recognize most of the recurring performers by name. And several episodes of Game Changer over the past few seasons have crossed the line from “that was pleasant” to “that was genuinely one of the most clever things I’ve ever seen on television.”

There have been episodes based around escape rooms (“Green Room”), clever gimmicks (“Deja Vu” and “Beat the Buzzer”), surprise twists (“The Drinking Game”), and some that are such overwhelmingly good vibes that they’re just joyful to watch (“One and Done”). One had me full-on Paddington-level crying at how it was such an extended display of friendship and kindness (“Who Wants To Be Jacob Wysocki?”), and one was a celebration of simply being sincere (“Earnest-est”).

This week, there was a “secret finale” episode of Game Changer that was (ostensibly) unlocked by people participating in an ARG with clues that had been seeded this season. It took the format of connected escape rooms with puzzles calling back to episodes throughout the series, and it felt like a celebration of the series and the Dropout cast in general.

Most significantly to me: a couple of the tasks involved Reich and his wife being commanded to tell each other things that they loved about the other. It incorporated a gag (they had to spank each other whenever they used a forbidden part of speech), and in my mind, that sums up the entire gestalt of the channel.

Everybody on Dropout stays committed to the bit, and the bits can get pretty high-concept and clever, but it’s never at the expense of community, kindness, friendship, and sincerity. They take every opportunity to highlight their real-life friendships and relationships. Even on a series like Very Important People, where all the performers are playing fictional characters (even if they happen to have the same name as the host), there is the overriding vibe of two friends trying to make each other laugh.

At first, this can seem off-putting or distancing: an insular crowd of performers who are all very pleased with each other, kind of like a podcast between a group of friends who spend the entire time laughing at their own in-jokes. But over time, even the most cynical of us picks up on the feeling that they’re building a community, not just a recurring cast.

It stood out to me this week in particular, because Instagram has mostly stopped showing me clips from Dropout, but has started showing me clips from various video podcasts. One had two regulars that I didn’t recognize but seemed to be familiar with the world of stand-up comedy, talking to a comedy writer, who was calling out a comedian for refusing to pay what she was owed for her material. The hosts tried to figure out who it was by guessing a few names of comics, all referred to by their first names. (“Whitney? Nikki? Amy?”) The comments were full of gossip and conjecture before revealing the name of the offending comic (who I’d never heard of before, but apparently she’s up and coming?). Comments on that comic’s Instagram account were full of people bad-mouthing her and demanding that she pay up.

It sounds like the writer had a completely justified complaint, and I’m definitely not against naming-and-shaming if it forces a fair resolution. The part that bugs me is that I don’t know any of these people and had never seen or heard of any of them before, but I was immediately provoked into coming up with an opinion. Congratulations, Instagram and random podcasters that I’ll probably never see again: I was engaged.

But more than that, it left me with the ick feeling I always get when I hear gossip, and especially when I hear gossip about people I don’t know or am only barely aware of. It always feels gross and unnecessary, and destructive. Not dramatically so, but it chips away at you bit by bit, sapping away positive energy instead of building it back up.

I think the thing I missed from “Make Some Noise,” and possibly improv in general, is that you get out of it what you bring to it. It’s not just the spontaneity that appeals to performers, I suspect, but the feeling of back-and-forth with the audience. If you go in sitting stone-faced with crossed arms, demanding “Entertain me!” then you’re just a drain on the whole show.

I don’t have any idea how Dropout is doing financially, but I suspect it’s doing fine, since it seems to be getting more and more attention as time goes on, and there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of new series, spin offs of existing series, and one-off specials. I don’t for a second think that all of it happened organically without needing constant hustle (in the “secret finale” they pointedly ask Reich exactly how much he spent on an Emmy campaign). And I don’t believe that there’s no behind-the-scenes drama going on, just like with anywhere else that pays people to get along with each other.

But I do know for certain that there’s a core value of community, kindness, sincerity, and friendship that goes beyond the performance, and it’s given just as much weight (if not more) as the performance itself. And that doesn’t happen by accident. It needs to be kept in the forefront, never letting anyone forget that it needs to be funny, but never at the expense of demonstrating those core values.

And I’m just plain delighted to see it in action. It’s got to take a lot of effort and hustling, and there’s no guarantee it’d pay off. A lot of people like me would just assume that it couldn’t work, that you can’t grow and be profitable and competitive without having to sacrifice just a little of that feel-good positivity. As it turns out, the only way to find out whether it’ll work is to try it.