It’s a Tuesday afternoon in Brooklyn Heights, and Pamela has just arrived at her bachelorette party. 

It’s a peculiar one: The bride-to-be appears to be a bespectacled 80-something with a practical coral coat and significant hearing loss. There’s nothing but imaginary salt and pepper on the fold-up table. Plus, the three men posing as Pamela’s ex-husbands are the only guests there. “You’re going to be such a cute bride,” one says. “Again…and again…and again.” 

The scene devolves from there. 

See Pamela sing “Blue Suede Shoes” in response to husband No. 1’s memory of their time in Graceland. Listen as Pamela sneezes at husband No. 2’s clumsy handling of the “pepper shaker.” Laugh when husband No. 3’s plea for a neck rub gives rise to a more sinister idea: “I could kill him,” Pamela says, hands descending upon her ex’s collared neck. 

And so concludes the final exercise in Tuesday’s improv class, typically held every other week in a barebones classroom at the St. Charles Jubilee Older Adult Center on Pierrepont Street.

Operated by Catholic Charities Brooklyn and Queens, which runs 20 Older Adults Centers across the two boroughs, the gathering — like all the organization’s programming — is free. 

The two-hour meetup attracts around 20 locals ranging from a 61-year-old professional actor and singer to an 86-year-old emergency medicine doctor to a 97-year-old Auschwitz survivor. But here, they’re none of that. They’re snow plows one minute, entrants in a Marilyn Monroe lookalike contest the next. 

“That was so bad it was good!” the troupe’s venerable leader, actor-turned-communications consultant Stanley Zareff, 82, is fond of repeating. He volunteered to launch the class about two years ago to build confidence and connection — as well as physical and mental flexibility among a population that’s stereotypically stuck in their ways.

“The overall goal of it is to give them a space to be creative, imaginative; to go back to that little interpersonal child of theirs; to free up some of their inhibitions and to get through some of their daily cognitive or health issues,” he told The Post.

But for the regulars, it’s mostly just fun. “When you come here and you can laugh, it just changes everything,” Audrey Scholl, an 84-year-old former dictaphone typist, or audio transcriptionist, said. “It makes life worth living, practically.”

Improv(e)ing health  

Improv — short for improvisational theater, for the uninitiated — is a popular hobby among Zillenniel New Yorkers seeking friends and flirtations, and a starting point for the talented and persistent few that become full-fledged professional comedians.

It can also be a skill-building endeavor for everyone from C-suite executives to personal growth enthusiasts looking to bust out of their comfort zones and practice collaborating on the fly.

“In improv, you agree and accept — you know that’s the main rule,” Zareff reminded his Tuesday class. 

But improv is also a powerful aging intervention, though perhaps an under-appreciated one. 

“They’re not proving anything to anyone. And while they may be a little nervous, they’re brave. And that’s the bottom line: Be brave.” 

Stanley Zareff

Research shows that the practice can improve depressive symptoms, well-being and social connectedness, as well as cognitive skills like attention and memory in older adults. It can particularly benefit people with dementia by boosting mood, self-esteem and communication skills. 

“Improv emerges as a simple and elegant tool that can induce not only cognitive changes but also emotional and social changes in aging,” the study authors said. 

Another study found that taking classes in something new, be it painting or iPad proficiency, can lead adults ages 58 to 88 to improve their cognition to levels on par with adults a full 30 years their junior. 

There’s reason to believe improv could have a similar effect. “As soon as you get up there, [Zareff] tells you what to do, and you have to act it out,” Toni Della, 71, said. “So you have to be quick … because if you’re not, you’ll freeze up.” 

Sheila Small, 86, was afraid that might happen to her a few sessions back when Zareff instructed participants to lip sync a song of their choice. Small, a shy former elementary school teacher, requested to sit the exercise out. 

But after some encouragement from the charming-but-firm Zareff — “You don’t have to do it, but if you don’t, I think you’re going to be missing out,” he said — Small took the stage to perform Ethel Merman’s rendition of “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” 

“I couldn’t believe it — I didn’t have to do anything. All I had to do there was open up my mouth and have the words come out, and all of a sudden I was Ethel Merman,” Small recalled. “After that experience, anything that Stanley said, ‘do,’ I did, and I think all of us are like that.” 

Indeed, Zareff finds his students can be more open-minded than their younger or professional counterparts.

“They’re not proving anything to anyone,” he said. “And while they may be a little nervous, they’re brave. And that’s the bottom line: Be brave.” 

Elizabeth Valenti, 83, is just that. The former telephone company employee had a heart attack three years ago, and wasn’t expected to survive. Then last year, she wound up in the hospital, and then nursing home, with pneumonia and the flu. 

“I wasn’t supposed to make it, but I always said that God kept me here for a purpose and showed me that life is still worth living,” Valenti said. Some of that purpose is realized through improv. “I make people smile, make them laugh — that’s why I’m still here right now.”  

Taking senior center stage 

Prior to Pamela’s bachelorette party, Zareff’s friend and former “Funny Thing” cast mate Mauricio Bustamante led the class in a relaxation exercise.

“This saves money on plastic surgery,” he said when directing participants to release tension in their foreheads. 

An Earth, Wind & Fire-fueled dance party — populated by walkers and occasionally interrupted by Zareff’s commands to “freeze!” — followed.

“I can hardly walk,” Valenti said, “but I can dance.” 

Later came the day’s central exercise: The seniors, who’d come prepared with song lyrics of their choice, paired off to create skits that somehow merged the two songs’ storylines. “Instead of singing the song, just say the words,” Zareff said. “And by the way, listen to each other. Support each other.” 

One mashup that ensued included two women sipping champagne at a Parisian cafe while bonding over their broken hearts. “I will survive. As long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive,” one said. Her friend was less optimistic. “Bye-bye love, bye-bye happiness, hello loneliness,” she said. “I think I’m going to cry.” 

“Yay!” the audience cheered after Zareff called, “Curtain!” “You spoke up, you stayed in character,” he applauded. “I think you both deserve some champagne.” 

It’s high but not rare praise from Zareff, who studied theater in college and graduate school, and joined the Colorado Shakespeare Festival before moving to New York. He toured nationally as a lead in “A Funny Thing That Happened on the Way to the Forum,” worked at the Roundabout Theater, and studied alongside then-emerging celebrities including Bernadette Peters and Richard Gere. 

While Zareff eventually built a successful career coaching executives in corporate America, he continued to teach acting workshops around the country and world — and has watched his students land roles in national productions of shows like “Wicked,” “Chicago” and “Beauty and the Beast.” 

In other words, he’s beyond qualified to instruct a quirky collection of aging amateur thespians for free. But it’s worth it. 

“Even though I’m in a very high-end neighborhood, some of these people live alone in a studio; they don’t have a family anymore; they rely on being able to come and have a lunch here, as well as play bingo or mahjong or attend an art class or do chair yoga or folk dancing,” he said. “They have somewhere to go, and that means a lot to me.” 

An ER doc and improv regular known as “Dr. Jon” likens the senior center to the bar from “Cheers.” “I think everybody feels like this is the clubhouse, and you’re members of the club,” he said. “It’s a very good feeling.”