The good, the weird, and the unmissable from this festival’s final week

This year’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival is in full swing. Keep an eye on our ever-growing list of reviews here.

Abby Howells | Welcome To My Dream
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 20

Welcome to Abby Howells’ dream, where a clip of her winning a prestigious comedy award goes viral, eliciting millions of views and hundreds of comments. Pretty sweet. But along with this comes hateful internet comments, the beginnings of a feud to rival that of Kendrick and Drake, and the realisation that her nemeses are inextricably wound into the story of her success.

Abby Howells’ Welcome To My Dream is on at Melbourne Town Hall until April 20.

In this beautifully structured show, she shares the stories behind this moment. The art is in the telling. Howells has an exquisitely strange way of seeing the world, taking us to unexpectedly wonderful places. Who else would explore the challenges of getting on the property ladder through an extended bit about Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? It is her unique perspective that delights; there is no way to predict what the lover of arcane historical facts, improvisation and Adam Lambert will charm us with next.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

Tom Cashman | 2 Truths, 1 Lie & 17 Slight Exaggerations
Melbourne Town Hall – Lower Town Hall until April 20

Tom Cashman of television’s Taskmaster fame expresses how chuffed he feels about being moved to a bigger venue, before embarking on a fast-paced, sharp, hilarious hour.

Tom Cashman performs 2 Truths, 1 Lie & 17 Slight Exaggerations until April 20.

He barely draws breath as he seamlessly barrels through an inordinate number of thoughts, conundrums and quips. There’s talk of Metro Tunnel cabbie complaints, jet lag, how to get free passport photos, the pursuit of happiness, a police encounter, flirting, fitness, pranking mates, saunas, and so much more. PowerPoint slides with outrageously ridiculous graphs intensify the laughs.

He teases the crowd. He engages with a heckler. He’s even figured out a way for the audience to take home a laugh via a QR code “Intimacy Test”. As I leave the venue, I hear one chap turn to his mate and say, “I gotta see that again. It felt like a minute – like a good fever dream.”
★★★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio

Rosie Jones | I Can’t Tell What She’s Saying
The Westin, until April 20

Rosie Jones performs I Can’t Tell What She’s Saying until April 20.

Third time’s a charm for Rosie Jones and Melbourne. The comedian returns with her third solo show, I Can’t Tell What She’s Saying, opening with a declaration of love for our city. After all, we share what Jones dubs “the Shakira approach” to alcohol: whenever, wherever. Melbourne audiences adore her in return.

In previous MICF shows, Jones declared that she was waiting for David Attenborough or his ilk to die so she could take on the coveted mantle of national treasure. Well, she’s done waiting, this time gleefully declaring herself a national treasure multiple times. Frankly, it’s hard to argue. From tales of meeting royals to single life and her dual passions (gravy and tits, natch), it’s all first class. Fans of her takes on queer and disabled life will find plenty here too.

She’s cheekier, ruder, swearier, brasher and funnier than ever. Her audience croons with laughter; the love affair between city and comedian is clearly not one-sided.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

David Quirk | The House That Was Never Built

Coopers Inn, until April 20

I’ve attended every show by David Quirk since his 2013 exploration of his own infidelity, Shaking Hands with Danger. Twelve years later, I’m still convinced that when he brings his A-game that he’s the best storyteller in Australian comedy, even if his crowd sizes and venues suggest otherwise.

David Quirk will perform The House That Was Never Built at Coopers Inn until April 20.

Quirk acknowledges this. “This is one of the rare pubs in the central business district that retains a general soullessness,” he laments, as he performs in a room above a sports bar where a level below most are betting on greyhounds.

The House That Was Never Built centres on the inheritance of a small bit of land following the passing of both his parents, and his partner’s encouragement for him to build a home. Quirk is no headspace to think about entering the housing market. He’s barely making ends meet as a comedian and with a side hustle of painting other people’s houses. To save money, he once moved from St Kilda to Fitzroy on the 96 tram.

But still, he persisted, and the hour follows his conversations with a draughtsman named Beau – a chain-smoking alcoholic whose flurries of trains-of-thought range from poetic, profound, but mostly profane. But Quirk finds a rare humanity in the discourse – and mines it for introspection on the human condition and privileges in life. It’s a marvel to see this level of talent in such an intimate setting.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

Brendan Murphy | Buffy Revamped
fortyfivedownstairs, until April 20

Wearing a black tee, skinny jeans and Dr. Martens boots, a wiry, demonic gentleman with slicked-back, bleached blond hair and varnished black nails graces the stage. “You all Buffy fans, are ya?” he inquires menacingly. It’s none other than Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s one-time paramour, Spike, played with campy flair by British comedian Brendan Murphy.

Brendan Murphy’s Buffy Revamped is at fortyfivedownstairs until April 20.

Murphy’s satirical one-man send up of the seven-season supernatural series is a hilarious trip down a ’90s pop culture vortex, accompanied by a nostalgic soundtrack. The production perfectly encapsulates the Sunnydale essentials with moody lighting, smoke effects, a bookshelf, and a high school locker. The pointy stakes are aimed high, but Murphy’s theatrical prowess is primed to absolutely kill it. From physical to musical comedy, accents to wigs, he playfully captures the characters and storylines while lightly mocking narrative holes and the unrealistic context (how did club Bronze survive on the patronage of minors?). In moments when the sold-out crowd doesn’t respond as expected, Murphy’s ad-libbed retorts still generate a laugh. Catch it before the hellmouth swallows Melbourne whole.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Nicole Gulasekharam | Casual Receptionist of the Quarter
The Motley Bauhaus – Cabaret Room, until April 20

“I find as long as I am calm and non-threatening, and articulate, charismatic, submissive, present, resilient, likeable, agreeable, and mindful of something, it’s usually fine,” the titular receptionist, played by Nicole Gulasekharam, says about one-third of the way into this one-woman show.

Nicole Gulasekharam is the Casual Receptionist of the Quarter at The Motley Bauhaus.

And this is how Casual Receptionist of the Quarter goes: Gulasekharam greets customers and tries to resolve complaints behind a makeshift gym reception desk, all while rolling fresh towels and making occasional announcements into the loudspeaker to inform all gym-goers to please wipe down their equipment before leaving.

This is workplace comedy at its best. In between scenes at the gym, we learn that the protagonist is a struggling 24-year-old musician who has had to move back in with her parents to cut down on expenses. At one point, when a customer compliments her on having lost weight, she blurts out: “I’ve not been able to afford food.”

There is a particular Peep Show feel to Casual Receptionist, with obvious nods to other satirical shows such as Parks & Recreation and Utopia.

We witness Gulaksekharam’s activities and gaffes up-close as she interacts with a myriad of invisible people off-stage. Her acting is a delight to witness: she shifts from mirth to disappointment through minute facial expressions and small movements that reveal a latent helplessness and angst. Her comedic timing, too, is incredible.

As the show builds up, multimedia and musical elements come together for Gulasekharam to showcase her multiple talents, a true joy to watch.

If art is about reflecting the times, Gulasekharam’s show has it all: interrogations about labour and its expectations in this world, delivered in a way that’s engaging, well-paced and non-didactic. The fact that Gulasekharam does indeed have a decade of experience working as a gym receptionist is the icing on the cake – autofiction, but done live.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Cher Tan

Vidya Rajan and Mel McGlensey | Greg
Chinese Museum, until April 20

In a festival of nearly 700 shows, it’s fair to assume more than a few of the Gregs in this audience bought their tickets based on the show title alone. There are at least three on this night – which is exactly what Rajan and McGlensey want.

Vidya Rajan (left) and Mel McGlensey idolise Greg at Chinese Museum.

The whole pretext of the show is that Gregs are superior humans to be idolised and celebrated. They proceed to list all the laudable qualities in a Greg, and have created a catchy-cute theme song around it. Said Gregs are invited to the stage to either participate or watch from the premium seats to the side of the stage.

It’s all delightfully silly and brave and weird. The pair presents as deliberately amateurish but with flashes of brilliance – like when they face off in a rap battle (purposely misheard as a “rat” battle), and Rajan launches into an impressive performance punctuated with the funniest gag of the night.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Hunter Smith | Bushranger
Tasma Terrace, until April 20

When Hunter Smith got an alarming text from a former “f--- bestie”, he embarked on a journey that eventually revealed he was a descendant of one of Australia’s most iconic outlaws. He tried not to make it his whole personality — but failed.

Hunter Smith performs Bushranger at Tasma Terrace until April 20.

In line with the title, there’s a real Australiana feel to the show. Smith discusses his aversion to the bush and drops cultural references from across the eras, from Harold Holt to Belle Gibson and The Veronicas. He proposes we retaliate against Trump by putting a tariff on Bluey and Nicole Kidman, our two biggest exports to America. The writing is sharp – unsurprising, given Smith was formerly the head writer on The Project. His casual affability makes you feel like you’re gossiping with a friend, with intrusive thoughts thrown in as ad lib. His Joel Creasey impersonation – bang on.

The room within the Victorian terrace venue is eerily dark, with only fluorescent blue lighting illuminating the room. Whether by design or accident, it adds to the colonial narrative being woven. A how-to on tracing your roots and embracing the unexpected revelations that result.
★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Schalk Bezuidenhout | Crowd Pleaser

The Greek Centre, until April 20

South African comic Schalk Bezuidenhout is a rock star of a performer. So much that he even crowdsurfs over the sold-out audience to the music of Kelly Clarkson.

Schalk Bezuidenhout is a Crowd Pleaser at The Greek Centre.

On his third visit to Melbourne, Bezuidenhout bursts out of the gates with recollections of his homeland – be it the stereotypes of crime-riddled neighbourhoods and tales of being carjacked, or how through comedy (Trevor Noah’s stint hosting The Daily Show) and politics (Elon Musk in the White House), South Africa is slowly taking over the world.

He delivers one of the finest (and loudest) routines of the festival when speaking about the house he bought in the coastal town of Ballito, a gesture he made to please his wife who would then go on to leave him – now a dwelling that represents more of a zoo than a home. He even invites a member of the audience to take the mic and deliver any joke of their pleasing. It’s a daring/dangerous move in any environment, but culminates with one of the best callbacks I’ve ever seen at this festival. Crowd Pleaser is a scorching hour of rapid-fire gags and manic energy. Highly recommended.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

The 35th Annual Great Debate
Melbourne Town Hall, April 12

It’s a testament to the pulling power of the comedy festival’s highly vaunted annual debate that audiences chose to congregate in a majestic dark room instead of enjoying the unseasonably warm day.

Desiree Burch argued on the negative team for this year’s Great Debate.

The two teams this year squared off against each other to argue for and against the statement “that social media is good, actually”, which would seem like a somewhat tired premise if it weren’t for the renewed actions of tech oligarchs and Australia’s recently implemented social media ban for children.

Hosted by the effervescent Steph Tisdell, whose periodic bouts of wheezing laughter begot a similar response from the crowd, Pierre Novellie (affirmative captain), Jenny Tian and Chris Parker faced off against Alexei Toliopoulos (negative captain), Gillian Cosgriff and Desiree Burch.

Novellie kicked things off strongly by detailing the merits of each social media platform and playing footage of the state of the world before its advent – taking the debate to a laughably dark place. In what would become an overarching theme of his contributions, Toliopoulos went deep and niche as a certified film guy on the “cinephile registry”, outlining all the ways social media had ruined film-watching and filmmaking.

There could be no better proponent for social media than Tian, a viral TikTok sensation whose online popularity has translated into a flourishing stand-up career. She was the first to go combative and personal with customised jabs aimed at each member of the negative team, drawing howls of laughter from an audience fanging for blood. Cosgriff did what she does best and sang about the corrosive effect social media has had on her attention span and ability to get things done.

Parker evoked the power of community that social media brought him as a gay closeted teen. The positive team drew on an arsenal of supporters – conservationists in Tian’s case, firefighters in Parker’s – to further underline the revolutionary power of social media. As perhaps the only Gen Xer in either team, Burch brought things home with a passionate manifesto that had more soundbites than one could count.

Channelling an ominous Marvel villain in his pointed rebuttal, Novellie expertly denounced each of the three negative debaters’ points, but Toliopoulos countered that by running headfirst into the continuation of an utterly mad and lengthy anecdote about minions, pronounced mignon (you had to be there). Despite the lack of effective rebuttal from the negative team, they won – though as Parker pointed out, it wouldn’t stop anyone from doom-scrolling once they got home.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Chloe Petts | How You See Me, How You Don’t
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 20

Petts is riding the waves of success on the main stage, with spots on this festival’s gala and, back home in England, a Saturday morning TV sports show. Which is how the self-described “radical feminist queer” (who also happens to be a “football lad”) wound up with her first lot of social media trolls.

Chloe Petts performs How You See Me, How You Don’t at Melbourne Town Hall.

In previous shows, Petts has used her apparent juxtapositions in identity to disarm and dismantle prejudices against the queer community. This hour is more personal. We go back to her school days in Kent and imagine a young Petts in context: school captain, oblivious to her own sexuality and impervious to bullying.

This becomes unexpectedly meta on Saturday night as an inebriated second row threatens to derail the show, and one audience member suggests they could leave. Petts is quick to defuse with her brilliant and ever-agile crowd work, and we witness what she’s already told us: be it hecklers or trolls, she needs no one to protect her.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Sofie Hagen | Banglord
The Greek – Gallery, until April 20

There’s no time to be wasted on needless introductions and crowd work in Danish comedian and podcaster Sofie Hagen’s show. A natural raconteur with a gentle air of self-deprecation, Hagen immediately disarms audiences with a joke about her smartwatch before launching into a memorable hour of humorous soliloquies.

Sofie Hagen performs Banglord at The Greek until April 20.

The throughline of Banglord is the fact that Hagen hasn’t had sex in a very long time. She decides to meet with a sexologist, who turns out to be someone quite different to who she envisioned. Hagen oscillates between recounting this story and meandering into entertaining tangents about being a queer, non-binary, fat person. When presented with a close friend’s admission that she’s bisexual, Hagen weaves an extended hypothetical about living with a wife that becomes more uproarious the longer she persists with it.

“I don’t want anyone to refer to me by ‘they’ and be proud of themselves,” she says in a bit admonishing those who feel a disproportionate sense of pride in getting people’s pronouns right while elucidating her own. Countering the fatphobia that remains prevalent in comedy, Hagen takes aim at people who insist she’s “not fat” but beautiful, skinny people, chairs ill-equipped to accommodate bigger bodies. It’s refreshing to be in a room erupting in laughter at a person punching up towards the institutions that belittle them when the opposite is still far too common.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Rhys Darby | The Legend Returns
The Athanaeum, until April 13

From robots to rocketships and Rubik’s cubes, this slick hour of comedy bursts at the seams with the accoutrements of humanity’s aspirations. We created them, we don’t understand them and, Darby suggests, we likely can’t control them – the AI horse has already bolted.

Rhys Darby is The Legend Returns at The Athenaeum.

For many comedians, an observation would stop there but Darby goes the extra step every time, physically committing to each bit and character – even as the metaphors grow extra metaphors, like AI horses with too many limbs. A line about saying things you shouldn’t turns into an elaborate escapade where his thoughts boldly venture from the brain to the vocal cords. We revisit the ‘hoverboards’ of last decade and explore what school drop-off might look like using drones.

Some of these are amusing sidebars while others loop back as clever set-ups in a wildly imaginative sci-fi-comedy narrative. The Tesla Cybertruck and dancing Roomba vacuum cleaner impressions are gold.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Ahir Shah | Ends
The Westin – One, until April 20

British-Indian comic Ahir Shah isn’t your average stand-up. His routines characteristically wade into dark and difficult material – mental health and mortality in Duffer, the rise of authoritarianism in Control – but there’s a tinge of something different this time. Shah has found love and refuses to be anything other than “staggeringly naïve”, even as the UK devolves into a place “calling its last drinks”.

Ahir Shah performs Ends at The Westin until April 20.

Speaking at a frenetic pace, spurting out more words in a minute than most people are capable of in 10, Shah warms the audience up with punchlines about his name, learning Latin, and arranged marriages. It’s but a mere prelude to his central preoccupation: the privilege to “go without saying” as a person of colour in the UK, which Rishi Sunak’s appointment as prime minister heralded, and the generational progress that’s unfolded since Shah’s nānājī migrated to London in 1964.

The laughs evaporate as Shah moves into the emotional terrain of unacknowledged sacrifice, the dislocation of migration and the sheer dehumanisation of racism. But he’s a consummate performer, always holding the tension of the room in the palm of his hand as he oscillates between passionate raving orations and punchlines designed to dispel the pressure cooker atmosphere of the room. Whether you believe or not in the merits of representation politics, Shah poetically and resoundingly argues that 2025 would’ve appeared positively utopian to his nānājī. If you’re closer to tears than you thought you’d be, it’s proof of Shah’s skilled extrapolation between the personal and the political.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Olga Koch | Came From Money

Melbourne Town Hall, until April 20

A show that centres on your own affluence, at a festival where many performers are destined to incur a financial loss, in the time of a cost-of-living crisis? It’s a bold move – but Olga Koch circumnavigates the awkwardness of checking her own privilege ingeniously.

Olga Koch Came From Money plays at Melbourne Town Hall until April 20.

The Russian-born comic was born into unfathomable wealth due to her father – the once-deputy prime minister of Boris Yeltsin – who was a benefactor from when the riches during the collapse of the Soviet Union were divided. A wealth not one that Koch took for granted, but politely declined to receive furthermore from her family in her early 20s. Came From Money is a piercing skewer of capitalism, socialism, oligarchies, class divides, and how we are defined by our bank balances. Koch’s ability to heel-turn from economic inequality into societal critiques and observations is superb, be it a borderline disgusting comparison of the fall of the Berlin Wall to the female reproductive system, call-backs, or impeccable crowd work.

She ends with a line I’m sure her promoters must hate: “If you know someone who wants to see the show but can’t afford it, just get them to message me – I don’t want someone not to be able to see a show about money because of money.” It’s an ode to the ideology that money should never be a barrier to life in a perfect world – or at least a damn good comedy show.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

Nish Kumar | Nish, Don’t Kill My Vibe
Arts Centre Melbourne, until April 20

British comedian Nish Kumar barely utters a breath as he delivers his politically imbued, rage-fuelled set at pace. He argues that Rishi Sunak and Usha Vance don’t represent his ideals despite their shared Indian heritage.

Nish Kumar in Nish, Don’t Kill My Vibe, at Arts Centre Melbourne.

There’s a false start as his walk-on music plays prematurely: an altered version of Kendrick Lamar’s Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe, which inspired the show’s name. He sheepishly confesses he was busy eating an orange and using the bathroom at the time. The pre-election timing of Kumar’s show is fortuitous. The first half draws humorous comparisons between UK, US and Australian politicians and their policies, encouraging the audience to use their upcoming vote wisely. The second half is a notable shift towards personal observations, revealing his battles with anxiety and its origins.

The intended 70-minute set runs for just under two hours. He promises to rectify this for future shows, graciously creating an opportunity for audiences to exit if need be. An intelligent jokester with a moral vendetta.
★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Con Coutis | Escape from Heck Island
Malthouse – Playbox, until April 20

Armed with an impish grin and decked out in a boilersuit, Con Coutis is the “correctional system’s favourite comedian”. But what happens when a case of mistaken identity results in Coutis becoming a prisoner himself?

Con Coutis tries to Escape from Heck Island at The Malthouse.

With over an hour of immaculately incorporated pre-recorded audiovisual cues, audiences are plunged into the immersive world of Heck Island where different cliques rule the roost and a certain iteration of MasterChef holds the key to Coutis’ escape. Incarcerated alongside Coutis, the audience – and therefore audience participation, albeit of the most unthreatening kind – is a big part of the show. It’s testament to Coutis’ easy affability that not even an unco-operative audience member in the front row throws him off.

Escape from Heck Island is a clever show that seamlessly melds multimedia components with live interactions – culminating in something that feels dynamic, vibrant and open to the vagaries of possibility. There’s a healthy dose of misdirection in the way Coutis constantly subverts expectations while obscuring his working. Simultaneously interrogating the social contract between audience and comedian while acting in an ensemble cast where he’s the only onstage performer, Coutis has assembled an exceedingly well-crafted hour of throwbacks, cultural references and suspended disbelief.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Paul Foot | Dissolve
Arts Centre Melbourne, until April 20

With his feral pixie coiffure and signature pigeon strut, Paul Foot has always cultivated an air of pompous buffoonery. He’s a clever guy, but also a ridiculous Englishman yelling absurdities, and retains a clownish aspect even when getting serious. Which, surprisingly, he does this year.

Paul Foot performs Dissolve at Arts Centre Melbourne until April 20.

Fans will be treated to some of the familiar absurdities – ancient Egyptian teen dramas, pop singers on the battlefield – but they’ll also learn about his decades-long struggle with depression, the childhood trauma behind it and the three seconds in which it was resolved.

It’s a shock to anyone expecting his usual semi-surreal rants, but the way Foot treads so lightly around these hard issues is truly enigmatic. He’s built a show around crippling emotional wounds that just ... got better? There’s power in the way he refuses to turn his inner life into a vehicle for audience catharsis, but taking us to challenging places and then turning out the lights is a courageous yet bizarre comic choice.
★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey

Alex Hines | Girl Culture
The Malthouse – The Tower, until April 20

If you didn’t have an entire audience yelling out “One Nation” on your comedy festival bingo card, you may not be familiar with the work of absurdist sketch comedian Alex Hines.

Alex Hines’ Girl Culture is on at The Malthouse until April 20.

The infamous Pauline Hanson features three times in Hines’ introductory song for Girl Culture, each time funnier than the last. Her lyrics run the gamut from explaining what girl culture is – from hair extensions to neurodivergence to womanly excretions – and highlighting both the pervasiveness and inanity underpinning girlhood’s latest resurgence in pop culture. Girl Culture is an hour of disparate fantastical sketches that have either tenuous or no connections to the central conceit. Aided by slides, Hines is a versatile performer who does superb character work – she can switch seamlessly between pathos and levity, inhabit different personas at the drop of a (literal) hat, and assume distinctive accents with aplomb. There are many costume and wig changes, and even more shifts in tone and subject matter, which can be discombobulating.

Some sketches are stronger than others. Highlights include a soft-drink competition where Hines is a Diet Coke songstress, and a surreal sequence where Hines becomes her great-aunt, a Midwestern woman who lost her head in a hurricane. You’ll never know what’s coming next, but strap yourselves in for a rollercoaster ride around the recesses of Hines’ mind.
★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Anna Dooley | Endhoe
Queen Victoria Women’s Centre, until April 19

Endo’s no joke. Frequently listed as one of the 20 most painful diseases of the human body, tonight she is personified by comedian and actor Anna Dooley. Endo takes centre stage after being promoted to CEO of Dooley’s nervous system. She’s a powerful CEO giving a rousing presentation to the other organs and nerves of Dooley’s body.

Anna Dooley performs Endhoe at The Malthouse until April 20.

Facing down a variety of foes from home-brand f-boys to painkillers and doctors, she’s running the show right here in front of us. Tales of hijacking her host-body’s attempts to work, socialise or otherwise live life connect with the audience, eliciting knowing laughter and groans of familiarity. Highlights included a vigorous pain-scale workout/dance routine as Endo works on her crescendo of pain rising from one up to 10.

Dooley has taken a sadly common experience that isn’t acknowledged enough in medicine or society and found a way to make it funny: no joke.
★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

Kevin Han | Extremely Tall and Incredibly Chinese
Storyville, until April 20

Up-and-coming comic Kevin Han has a new show and its title can be taken literally. He is Extremely Tall and Incredibly Chinese. On the night I go, it could be that the crowd was too awkward or sober, but Han is quick on his feet and isn’t deterred. Halfway through the show, the lights suddenly go off, but Han’s quick-wittedness makes me think it is part of the performance. It was a true accident.

Kevin Han is Extremely Tall and Incredibly Chinese at Storyville until April 20.

Not everything is completely refined. But it is his second night. Jokes are targeted at an Australian audience, often delivered in surprising ways – his material moves from the relationship between Vietnamese and Lebanese people in western Sydney where Han grew up, to mixed-race relationships, Streets ice cream, and white Australian farmers.

“There are racial jokes and there are racist jokes,” Han explains about two-thirds into the show. It’s true, and he’s a master of the former – his work teeters on the edge of tipping into offence but never does, and often offers ​remarkable punchlines. At one point, Han admits that comedy is hard. He’s not wrong: it requires much attention to detail while juggling multiple creative skills to deliver a show that looks effortless. A comic worth keeping an eye on.
★★★
Reviewed by Cher Tan

Nick Robertson | Everything that happened at Number 68
Chinese Museum – Tea Room until April 20

Do not be concerned if your phone battery is running low, Nick Robertson has a charger at the ready. He also serves cups of tea in mismatched mugs and offers cushions for extra seat comfort as you settle in.

Nick Robertson outlines Everything That Happened at Number 68 at Chinese Museum until April 20.

Robertson loves telling stories and it shows. With an excited glint in his eyes, and an endearing grin, he relays share house adventures. Eventualities that surface as he sifts through his barrage of memories from his early 20s (not that long ago) include an epic house party, living with an eclectic bunch of housemates and surviving an intense landlord.

Robertson’s exemplary knack of telling amusing tales shines through with references to yoga, footy and an adorable pet bunny. Finding out how the house ends up with a Soda Stream is a stand-out moment. There are occasional word stumbles peppering an otherwise engagingly executed performance. All in all, it’s a fascinating hour of mirth and memories.
★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio

Urooj Ashfaq | It’s Funny To Me
Melbourne Town Hall – Powder Room, until April 20

Urooj Ashfaq is on a mission to deliver a sexy, dirty, edgy show – mostly to disprove a British critic who called her “conservative”. The miniskirt is part of it, as are smutty double entendres about reading erotica and being the first woman in her family to be diagnosed with haemorrhoids.

Urooj Ashfaq’s It’s Funny To Me plays at Melbourne Town Hall until April 20.

The show is strong on crowd work, though it’s mostly utilised to implore embarrassed young South Asian men to maintain eye contact with her when she’s talking about sex – to great comedic effect. She’s nimble in responding to her surroundings, garnering some of the loudest laughs as she remarks on a passing ambulance. Ashfaq is at her strongest when she’s delivering darkly funny throwaway lines that belie her persona as a fresh-faced ingenue, whether it’s about living as a Muslim Indian woman in the Subcontinent or why being grounded doesn’t make cultural sense as a punishment.

There are two extended bits in her routine: one about her exploits as an ill-disciplined high school student, the other drawing on a piece of One Direction fan fiction. They’re amusing at the offset, but perhaps mined beyond their comedic potential by the end. On the back of Ashfaq’s award-winning 2023 debut show, Oh No!, It’s Funny to Me is a solid set that veers towards the expected with moments of brilliance.
★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Bubble Laboratory | Bubble Show in Space
Melbourne Museum, until April 20

Eccentric duo Dr Bubble and Milkshake take children on a high energy, sudsy adventure through space. The show is filled with non-stop mayhem, incorporating shadow and hand puppets, slapstick comedy and high-stakes bubble tricks. There’s audience participation as kids are invited on stage as “aliens” to engage in the foamy fun.

Dr Bubble and Milkshake in the Bubble Show in Space, at Melbourne Museum until April 20.

As a parent, it might feel chaotic and the space storyline a little tenuous. However, constructing an almost hour-long, all-ages show with enough variety to keep kids entertained is no mean feat. Even when the stunts go awry, the entertainers do well to stall, restart and keep the show going.

It’s a joy to watch young audiences gasp in awe as the pair create a giant bubble that snakes around the stage or giggle as Milkshake and Dr Bubble play tricks on each other. It eventually descends into carnage as bubbles fill the theatre and kids race towards the stage to immerse themselves in it all.
★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Taylor Griffiths | Sublime Avenue
Theory Bar, until April 20

It’s never a good sign when the biggest laughs in the room are coming from your own tech person. Taylor Griffiths is a mainstay on the sketch and improv scene around Melbourne, and it’s clear where she gets her influences from. But unlike the utter commitment to the bit of Hannah Camilleri, or the audacious and ridiculous characters of Nat Harris, her act is poorly structured and centres on cookie-cutter depictions with clumsy delivery.

Taylor Griffiths on Sublime Avenue. She performs at Theory Bar until April 20.

A sketch portraying a Metricon Homes sales pitch well outstays it’s welcome, before returning again … and again. A boorish construction supervisor berates his fellow tradies with a bro-first mentality. There is little creativity and individuality within the characters that live on the titular avenue – worse, many of them are accompanied by D-grade jokes.

Griffiths is no doubt trying to channel the bogan-chic of Kath & Kim, but the finesse and slick writing that made Fountain Lakes shine is in another stratosphere. There are bones of a decent sketch show here – but little else.
★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

Sharam Namdarian | From Brunswick with Love
DoubleTree Hilton, until April 20

Not every stand-up show needs to push the boundaries of comedy, but sticking to a tried-and-true formula can work against an artist – familiarity begets a certain colourlessness.

Sharam Namdarian is From Brunswick with Love and plays at DoubleTree by Hilton.

Sharam Namdarian’s latest show, From Brunswick with Love, is a bit like that – it may be that he’s used to radio and TV formats, having appeared on triple J and Channel Seven. It isn’t really about Brunswick either. But that’s fine: the label on the tin doesn’t necessarily need to match what’s inside. He moves swiftly between bits, and reveals, as mentioned in the show’s synopsis, that he used to be a “relationship coach”. Yet that’s the joke and the punchline – we never get to hear much more about it.

So, toxic masculinity: tick; being mistaken as white as a light-skinned person of colour: tick; “the ethnic voice”: tick; artificial intelligence and apps: tick; “this modern life”: tick; “not seeing colour: tick. Namdarian is not entirely unfunny, but the material isn’t particularly refreshing. There’s a feeling of having seen this before; there are only so many ways to rehash a joke.
★★
Reviewed by Cher Tan

The Age is a Melbourne International Comedy Festival partner.

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