By Sonia Nair, Stephen A Russell, John Bailey, Hannah Francis, Cameron Woodhead, Vyshnavee Wijekumar, Tyson Wray, Mikey Cahill, Lefa Singleton Norton and Donna Demaio
This wrap of shows across the Melbourne International Comedy Festival includes performances by Jordan Gray, Jennifer Wong, Lara Ricote, Cal Wilson, Reuben Kaye, Geraldine Hickey, Michelle Brasier, Joshua Ladgrove, Lizzy Hoo, Claire Hooper and more.
The 33rd Annual Great Debate
Melbourne Town Hall, April 9
A meeting of the minds and battle of comedic chops, this year’s incarnation of The Great Debate was a much more uneven affair than those in recent memory.
The topic at hand? “That we get the leaders we deserve” – argued by the affirmative team of Lizzy Hoo, John Safran and Em Rusciano; and the negative team featuring Lewis Hobba, James Nokise and the buzziest act of the festival, Jordan Gray.
Moderated by ABC political journalist Annabel Crabb, it was no surprise to see barbs in her opening monologue revolving around the likes of Scott Morrison, Barnaby Joyce, Boris Johnson et al. They were honed to a degree, but the decision not to engage a compere with further comedic experience was a misfire.
Hoo began proceedings strongly by approaching the problems of democracy in North Korea and Iran, and the reason our own boring sycophancy results in Australians having leaders like Bob Katter. Hobba followed with razor quips about why Jesus is the original nepo baby and blunt truisms about leaders of the Catholic church.
Safran, dressed in a balaclava and puffer jacket to mimic Kanye West’s infamous appearance on Alex Jones’ Infowars, mocked the rapper and his legions of cult-like fans by dissecting the flaws in the logic of his recent antisemitic remarks (hint: none of his intended targets are actually Jewish); while Gray announced her plans to run for prime minister (dual-citizen problems put aside to deal with later), followed by a musical number detailing why we need a trans leader with glitter guns galore.
But following this robust start the wheels began to fall off.
Rusciano’s manic opening stanza read more like a boasting of her own CV than that of well-articulated prose; as were her constantly frustrating interjections during other acts, seemingly attempting to make the evening entirely about herself. Nokise fired shots at Perth and quipped that Safran’s entire persona was an offensive Chris Lilley character. It was mostly fine enough material, but little landed deftly with the audience.
As for the obligatory roasting of opponents in the rebuttals from captains Hoo and Hobba, they were middling at best – far from the scathing take-downs in past years from the likes of Tom Ballard (seriously, watch his routine from the 2016 debate), Melanie Bracewell or Jan Fran.
Crabb returned to declare she had texted Penny Wong to choose the winner, and the bragging rights went the way of the negative team due to the decibels of audience applause.
However, having already run 40 minutes over schedule, many had left for the door before the final results were decided.
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Note: No star ratings are applied to group shows
Anna Piper Scott | Is This Anything?
The Motley Bauhaus, season complete
“Anyone religious here tonight?” Anna Piper Scott asks in an intimate theatre setting on Easter Friday.
Is This Anything? is completely improvised, sparked by probing provocations and audience conversations. Piper Scott states that “this show is whatever you want it to be”, welcoming spontaneous remarks from the crowd – to which she responds confidently off-the-cuff – while still giving the audience space to decline to engage.
Her questions are delivered in a spirit of genuine curiosity rather than mocking. She encourages sly audience quips, with someone at one point saying “raise your hands if you’re a Nazi” referencing the recent anti-trans rally.
Confessional stories from the audience included a septuagenarian treating insomnia with medical-grade cannabis; an uneventful lesbian orgy where participants were afraid to initiate advances; and a recent discovery of being a donor baby. It’s also about finding commonalities – there were four dual citizens present.
A worthy companion to her scripted show Such An Inspiration, Is This Anything has an air of unpredictability that’s thrilling to watch unfold.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar
Brown Women Comedy
Queen Victoria Women’s Centre, until April 12
“Out of the 500-plus shows at the comedy festival, I counted only eight brown women – and six of them are here,” exclaims Daizy Maan, producer of Brown Women Comedy and the show’s concluding act. There’s a well-documented gender disparity in the comedy industry, but there’s a race problem too – a double whammy for women of colour.
But if you’re solely expecting jokes about the idiosyncrasies of brown parents and the weight of unmet cultural expectations, Brown Women Comedy isn’t for you. It touches on some of those things, yes, but so much more – sex, mental health, queerness, divorce.
Having just completed her own run of shows, Urvi Majumdar starts the show off strong, charming the audience with humorous stories and a standout response to the trite question “Where are you from?” Poet-in-a-former-life Sukhjit Kaur Khalsa illustrates the differences between Melbourne and Perth in Bollywood songs and reveals the real reason she doesn’t like Rupi Kaur.
Activist and influencer Moose Jattana bounds onto the stage to deliver a candid and uproarious stream-of-consciousness set on the most taboo topics of the night (to the brown parents, anyway): being bi (bisexual, bipolar, bilingual); orgasms; STIs; and suicide. In contrast, Sydney-based comedian and podcast host Kripa Krithivasan’s more gentle set touches on veganism, shedding the expectations of being the eldest brown daughter, and in one particularly memorable bit, the limited role models brown women have.
Pakistani-Canadian comedian Amna Bee’s deadpan, wry style segues unexpectedly into masturbation and a great bit on how she broke the news of her divorce to her parents. Maan rounds off the show with a relatable routine on the pseudoscience practised by brown parents that has the audience laughing in recognition.
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Note: No star ratings are applied to group shows
Jordan Gray | Is it a Bird?
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
This is cutting satire wrapped up in poptastic packaging. The energy is electric as Jordan Gray regales the audience with song and stand-up delivered with sass. Is it a Bird? presents us with a superhero conundrum. Why are we cool with Bruce Wayne identifying as a bat, replete with camp costume, but some people still want to protest trans women?
Gray might be a fan of superheroes, but she’s not afraid to ask the hard questions. Her superpower is highlighting the hypocrisy of transphobes and transphobia which she does with biting lyrics and blazing stand-up. There are shock and awe tactics here, but they work to ask what people are so afraid of. When the truth is laid bare, it’s not trans people who are worthy of ridicule, but the people obsessed with denying their humanity.
Jordan Gray is the hero Melbourne deserves and needs right now, bringing trans joy to the face of a city that has recently had to stare down transphobic Nazis.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton
Sammy J | Good Hustle
Forum Melbourne, until April 23
Sammy J knows grandmas think he’s hot, dropping the line into a bevy of set-up gags in his hour-long sketch show.
Costume changes are deliberately clunky as characters from his five-year ABC TV stint spill out. He’s farewelling the likes of Government Coach and bush poet SJ Paterson.
The audience is cajoled onto its feet to take part in National yoga. The one-liners are relentless. Hilarious. Generationally relatable. The man is a genius.
Political satire in the hands of Sammy J is less vitriol, more ridicule. The absurd The Very Hungry Barnaby storybook comes alive. “Sing-a-long if you’ve got a mortgage”, the former law student implores as the audience blooms into a joyful chorus.
Three hesitant beings are plucked from the crowd for a ludicrous dictatorial sketch – a chance to revere President Dan.
Co-star James “potato” Pender is a surprise stand-out. Eternal energy and bristling barbs. Well done Sammy J for ignoring those countless legal threats.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Col & Fil | Woah, Alyssa! 5
Westin Hotel, until April 22
If you only see one riotous, late-night homosexual break-up dance party this festival, make it Woah, Alyssa! 5 starring real-life exes Colwyn Buckland and Filip Lescaut.
Their 2021 debut show (directed by Aunty Donna’s Mark Bonanno, who also guided this incarnation) was well-meaning but scrappy, educating us on PrEP and what it means to be a Top, Bottom or Vers, but not quite having enough polish to stick the proverbial landing.
Fast-forward to now and – plot twist – the two grinding protagonists have split up after seven years together, and – second plot twist – become twice as powerful.
Woah, Alyssa! 5 is an anarchic hour of gay power as the duo riff on everything from how everyone wants to sound gay (“slay kween!“) through to the tear-soaked, unexpectedly moving story of how they consciously uncoupled.
The show skewers polyamory, beige stand-up material and tedious porn, while keeping the audience hootin’ and hollerin’ and shazaming filthy hip-hop from Baby Tate. Hot stuff from go to woah.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Mikey Cahill
Jennifer Wong | Has No Peripheral Vision
The Westin Four, until April 9
No one does puns like Sydney-based comedian and ABC presenter Jennifer Wong. Every time you think she’s exhausted the opportunities for clever wordplay, she strikes again – eliciting involuntary cackles and good-natured groans from the audience. She’s an expert in improvising puns – in a stint of audience participation towards the end, she crafts puns on the spot, joining subjects as disparate as origami and yoghurt, baklava and accountancy.
But that’s not solely what Jennifer Wong Has No Peripheral Vision is – Wong’s far too clever for that. A clue lies in the title – Wong was diagnosed with a degenerative eye disease called retinitis pigmentosa, which means many things, but which she somehow extrapolates into commentary on housing affordability. An amusing anecdote about accidentally and unexpectedly being invited to someone’s engagement party suddenly morphs into an exploration of living with chronic depression. Wong’s two takeaways from almost falling victim to a scam are so unanticipated they elicit guffaws.
Sometimes the jokes write themselves, as Wong reads from a Beyond Blue pamphlet on how swimming with dolphins can cure depression. But she takes it one step further – blurring the lines between what’s real and what isn’t within an already outlandish premise.
Wong’s a queen of the throwback, seamlessly manoeuvring different premises and subject matters only to catapult back with utmost dexterity and stealth. With disarming ease and a talent for misdirection, Wong’s routine hits comedy gold time and time again.
At its heart, the show is warm, vulnerable and hopeful. It’s about cycles of recovery and relapse, about how chronic illnesses can limit our possibilities, whether it’s because we can’t see edges or because we can’t envision a future. As Wong emotionally recalls cancelling her run of 2018 shows before she was hospitalised, it’s only fitting that this comedy festival is her triumphant return.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Reuben Kaye | Live and Intimidating
Fairfax Studio, Arts Centre Melbourne, until April 23
Two nights before taking to the intimate, velvet-draped Fairfax Studio stage, Reuben Kaye sniffed actor and activist Geena Davis, declaring it the “best night of his life”.
After hugging everyone on arrival and throwing back shots with his band, a mesmerising Kaye riffs, roars and rants.
It’s been just weeks since Kaye “did a boo-boo” on live Australian television, furnishing him with fun fodder to play with on stage.
But the backlash is real, adding to the trolling already rustled up by the viral online video. The snipes are shocking; his responses are achingly golden.
The three-piece band is just as entertained as the crowd, with musicians’ sniggers blowing out to guffaws as filthy thought-bubbles explode.
A brilliantly bawdy sailor song showcases Kaye’s darling voice. An ad-libbing maestro, he teases out a “different show every night”. Blending glamour and contemporary commentary, the cabaret icon bewilders and bemuses, unafraid to cross the line and run overtime.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Dr Brown | Beturns
Malthouse Theatre, until April 23
Bare-ass spanking with paper, banana-skin fights, even a fake glassing after a wine receptacle smashes in the front row – it could only happen at a Dr Brown show.
Los Angeles’ pre-eminent surrealist clown Phil Burgers returns (sorry, Beturns) to Melbourne, picking up where he left off 11 years ago when he won the Barry Award for Most Outstanding Show.
The opening scene of this comeback show is wonderfully drawn out, with Dr Brown using the stage curtains to evade our gaze just a little longer.
When he does appear (entering backwards, of course) he’s wearing a blue dressing gown and a trapper hat, with an ash-smudged nose from a cigar he holds throughout the show but never lights.
The chemistry fires between Dr Brown and the beaming people he picks (on) from the audience. Burgers controls the room with his twinkling eyes and precise gesticulations, as we’re enveloped in a touching love story set to the sexy salsa of La Sonora Dinamita. Scintillating.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Mikey Cahill
John Hastings | The Times They Are a John Hastings
Greek Centre, until April 23
A confident, mildly bombastic, magnificently expressive John Hastings regurgitates a stream of unfortunate mishaps. Car crashes, unwelcome nicknames and baristas are all in his sights.
Having lived in London and currently residing in Los Angeles, the Canadian-born comic relays the mayhem of experiences from across the globe. He broaches politics, racism, divorce and therapy – with punctuated punchlines that truly satisfy. And then there’s the definition of the Millennial charcuterie board. Riotous.
Late arrivals – a bunch of burly blokes – are victims to a mocking barrage that even gets them giggling. He acknowledges the person with the Nelson Muntz (The Simpsons) laugh and audibly gauges crowd reactions.
Brilliant banter, fine call-backs and wildly amusing deconstruction of stereotypes. So close to perfect, it hurts.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Lara Ricote | GRL/LATNX/DEF (MEX)
The Westin Three, until April 23
Lara Ricote is presenting comedy as real as the truths you’re serving up in the all-women group chat of your most trusted friends. From flirty to filthy, it’s as wonderful as it is wicked. Girl, Latinx, Deaf she might be and there’s plenty of material about her experiences as all three, but is it calculating to do a show about your marginalised identities in this era, asks Ricote? No complaints when it results in a show this unique and entertaining.
Ricote knows how to work a room. Her timing is impeccable, her usage of the long pause admirable, and her read on the audience spot on.
She might appear impish on stage, but after lulling the audience by telling us she feels more girl than woman, Ricote pushes the envelope until by the end of the show you wonder how we ended up here. This is adult humour of the best kind.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton
Joshua Ladgrove | Baba
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
Part comedy show, part history lesson, and fully a homage to the profound love he felt for his 97-year-old grandmother before her passing, Baba is a sensational hour.
Ladgrove, more well known to festival audiences as his madcap character of Neal Portenza, has cast off the shackles of silliness to delve into the very real relationship he had with his grandmother during the pandemic lockdowns, and as she moved closer to shuffling off this mortal coil.
Laughs are abundant, his historian-like knowledge of Slavic political warfare and international relations is immaculately articulated, as is his deep hatred of communism.
Plus, a few drive-bys at The Project, Frank Walker, Vladimir Putin and even his own tech help level out the tension when the subject borders on slightly too serious.
You’ll leave with a stomach aching of laughs, tears in your eyes and the urge to call your relatives and let them know that you love them. To inspire such a show, you can only imagine what a wonderful woman his Baba must have been.
★★★★½
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Suren Jayemanne | The Bag of Vegeta
The Westin Four, until April 23
John Lennon intoning “turn off your mind, relax and float downstream” fittingly opens Suren Jayemanne’s The Bag of Vegeta – a show ostensibly about religion (which explains its name, a clever play on the Hindu seminal text The Bhagavad Gita) that delves into the importance of being present.
Two things have upended Jayemanne’s life – discovering he has aphantasia and being awakened to the different ways in which the East and West conceive of death and, as such, life. Having a Hindu mother and Catholic father places Jayemanne at the perfect nexus to explore these existential questions, to often hilarious results. There’s plenty of exposition in Jayemanne’s show, but always in service of broader themes.
Unfolding within the show’s overarching narrative is material delving into the minutiae of Jayemanne’s life: being a sleeper agent of gentrification in Coburg, the challenges of owning a rescue dog and his disappointment that we can no longer do accents.
Quick-witted and self-deprecating, Jayemanne has constructed a sharply observed show that loops around on itself in an edifying way. If nothing else, it’ll convince you to start meditating.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Circus Oz
The Forum Downstairs, until April 23
A standing ovation greeted the first Circus Oz performance after its near-death experience in 2021. The pioneering company turns 45 this year, and recent events seem to have refreshed its underdog spirit.
Pre-pandemic, Circus Oz shows were sometimes far too long. Not this. Their trademark irreverence and acrobatic prowess has been distilled into one tight Comedy Festival hour. Under Nicci Wilks’ direction, the mix of aerialism, ensemble floor work, physical humour and daredevilry assumes a theatrical shapeliness and is performed at a cracking pace.
Teetering onstage in mile-high heels, Jarred Dewey kicks off proceedings with a wobble-free static trapeze display – a remarkable act of airborne puissance with striking contortionist twists.
It’s one of two gender-bending aerial routines in the show. The other – performed by the fetchingly gowned Leo Pentland on straps – showcases sublime grace and contains a feat of (quite literal) jaw-dropping wonder.
An acrobalance double-act from Sharon Gruenert and Spenser Inwood pushes limits of strength and fearless trust; Flip Kammerer’s antic archery unites madcap physical comedy with a dash of well-aimed magic.
And there’s pointed satire in the throwback to the old-school trope of a “Dive of Death”, in which Debra Batton defies age – if not gravity – as a low-super retiree coming out of retirement to take the plunge for our pleasure.
Circus can indeed be ageist, and Batton isn’t just comic relief. Her acrobatic skills are beyond reproach. She’s the crucial middle-woman in a classic three-high and outdoes the rest of the ensemble in a group finale on flying trapeze.
That last apparatus has become a Circus Oz speciality, and proves a fitting end to an uplifting, funny, and supremely skilled show which vindicates the company’s communitarian ethos and refusal to bow to bureaucratic demands. Family-friendly circus with fabulous acrobats and a bit of mongrel to the comedy, this is a genuinely entertaining special event.
★★★★
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead
Brodi Snook | Villain
Mantra on Russell, until April 23
I’ve been writing and rewriting the first line of this review for about half an hour, trying to figure out how best to proceed. The thing is, Brodi Snook is a brilliant writer, and that makes describing her show in words rather intimidating.
With unassuming delivery, the WA comic takes us into the dark recesses of her mind, and lays bare the real-life decisions that are fuelling her homicidal nightmares.
If language is playdough in Snook’s hands, she’s tearing off pieces and hurling them into the audience like a salty slap in the face. There are so many bitingly hilarious – and often graphic – one-liners it can be hard to keep up, but Snook knows just when to pause so a punch-line can marinate.
Snook is at once beautifully poetic, and choke-on-your-dinner-snortingly crass. Best not take your nanna – unless, of course, she’s as outrageous as Snook.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis
Rosie Jones | Triple Threat
The Westin, until April 23
Rosie Jones begins her show with unplanned crowd work just five seconds after hitting the stage, when the AUX cord drops out of her microphone and she needs an audience member to plug it back in for her. She blames God for stealing her moment in the limelight: “F--k him.”
Triple Threat (disabled, lesbian and a prick) is a peculiar combination of self-deprecating humour due to Jones’ disability, and an explosion of confidence and pride from it.
Never steering far away from her cerebral palsy, Jones delivers well-crafted punchlines about why she’s waiting for David Attenborough to die; a borderline disgusting gag comparing Subway sandwiches to vulvas; and the best joke I’ve seen in 14 shows so far this festival – regarding Nickelback, The Guardian and sex. Don’t even try to guess it.
There are also daggers sent the way of Noel Gallagher, tales of kink in the disabled world, and being the designated voice of an entire community that she doesn’t quite feel comfortable with. But the highlight is the beaming smile Jones has to be back on stage, ensuring mirth throughout. A delight.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Akmal | Not Dead Yet
Athenaeum Theatre, until April 23
Akmal appears momentarily stunned, noting a couple of kids sitting in the front row. The seasoned comic promptly mines for a laugh and surfaces with gold. “I’m the opposite of The Wiggles,” he yells.
He strikes with ad-libbing gusto, returning to the youngsters over the course of the hour to dispense hilariously questionable advice.
Akmal encourages an opening of minds and lowering of expectations. But having honed his craft since the early ’90s, you needn’t be concerned.
He cheekily chomps through anti-vaxxers, religion, gambling, the power of crystals and the meaning of life/Easter.
A nonsensical heckle threatens to derail. Akmal’s sparkling retort stops the lone screamer in her tracks. The comedian’s stand-up dexterity drums up riotous laughs, even when cracking a “forgotten” gag completely out of context.
Jovial and relatable, his derisive spiels entrance. Gushing, raucous glee erupts when Akmal drops his “dumbest joke” ever. He again seems stunned – but ever so pleased.
★★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Sashi Perera | Endings
Trades Hall – Solidarity Hall, until April 9
Sashi Perera went viral on TikTok with a perfectly pitched bit linking sunscreen with colonisation – she brings the same observational wit and droll humour to her debut show.
Perera’s style is languid, her register often unchanged as she wades into sensitive topics and her personal experiences as a woman of colour with the same disarming smile and a penchant for dispensing pertinent historical facts about any number of things – shingles, Bob Marley, The Great Ocean Road – so you feel as though you’re being educated and entertained. Punctuating these routines are songs where Perera showcases her impressive vocal range, but always with a comedic bent.
She brings trademark millennial nihilism to the idea of jobs, pillories white people who travel to Nepal, uses a well-placed analogy to underline the hypocrisies of religion. A particular standout routine about the concept of boundaries for a brown person elicits rapturous applause. If there are any downsides, it’s that Perera occasionally reaches for low-hanging fruit.
The topics traversed are manifold, but it’s a tightly structured show reckoning with the idea of endings. As far as beginnings go, it’s an impressive one.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Hannah Camilleri | Lolly Bag
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
Fact: Hannah Camilleri deserves her own television sketch show immediately. Someone please put a team around her to help refine the several characters she serves up in Lolly Bag and reinvigorate our small screen. At the very least they should add her to the cast of the rebooted Thank God You’re Here.
Camilleri shape-shifts from a whiny secondary school teacher to a suave pilot then a jittery girlfriend being tickled, before hitting comedic heights with a condescending English lady who has been “so lucky” to be given a castle, a genius husband and endless book deals. The line “publish publish publish!” is a catchphrase in the making to rival her crabby teacher’s draconian “No name, for shame, IN THE BIN!” Her voice work and stagecraft are exemplary, helping the hour move swiftly through any flat spots.
There are some pacing issues with Lolly Bag – a new bit on an undercover security guard is undercooked and the set-up for a later piece with a strutting cowboy needs tightening. More than anything though, we know we’re in the presence of a triple threat (actress, comedian, mime) on the rise.
★★★★
Reviewed by Mikey Cahill
Frankie McNair | An Intimate Evening with Tabatha Booth starring Frankie McNair
Melbourne Town Hall – The Flag Room, until April 23
Winner of the 2022 Best Newcomer Award, Frankie McNair returns this year with an exquisite character study of the (fictional) chain-smoking, washed-up 1950s songstress, actor and stand-up comedian Tabatha Booth.
Tabatha’s been away for a couple of years – the show opens with a pre-recorded black-and-white interview, her last public appearance until now – but she’s sold everything she owns to “perform in the best storage room in the country”. Alas, problems plague her set. No industry person is in attendance. Her special guest doesn’t show up. Technical failures abound. And audience members keep heckling her to be the long fork lady.
McNair is bewitching as Tabatha – fluttering her exceptionally long eyelashes at anyone she makes eye contact with, tap dancing on cue, folding herself clumsily over a stool as she fishes makeshift cigarettes out of her bra and barks at her stagehand Riley, a memorable sidekick to the unfolding mayhem. If her superbly enunciated drawl, clever wordplay and deliciously unhinged stories of glitz and glamour doesn’t have you in hysterics, her titillating denouement to the show will.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Cal Wilson | Supposably
Swiss Club, Melbourne Town Hall until April 23
Given she radiates good vibes, you’d think nothing could get Kiwi comedian Cal Wilson cranky. Just don’t slow her down by wandering aimlessly when she’s rushing around town, challenging total strangers to walking races.
And whatever you do, fellas, don’t use unbidden hand signals to guide her into a parking spot she was perfectly happy taking her time aligning with.
If Wilson’s in a giant but mostly empty car park, she’ll probably slide in next to another car. Frankly, she thinks dudes who demand a 500-kilometre no-park radius around their precious automobile have a “colonial mindset”.
On top of her game, Wilson is a rare comedian who can work a room without making folks feel super-awkward. She wants to know what irks you too, but unlike George Orwell’s daily Two Minutes Hate session in terrifying dystopian novel 1984, this leads to a jolly all-in therapy session. Even the left-field audience member who hates mushrooms because “they’re smug” is embraced. Deft of wit, Wilson works that WTF moment into a snappy call-back.
She knows the show’s name will irk grammar pedants. It bothers her, too. After almost two decades of marriage her husband has given up attempting (and failing) to say the word “supposedly”, not because she always picked him up on it, but because her young song son did as soon as he reached that level of speech.
Wilson is a hoot, channelling bottled-up frustration into ferociously funny overshares about her dad’s sock-driven OCD tendencies and a truly spectacular shopping centre own inflicted on her by her increasingly sassy son that you’ll be tempted to try at home. The latter serves her right for spilling on a school show disaster and Lynx Africa spillages. But even when miffed, you get the sense Wilson’s never anything but incredibly kind. The show’s a real good time.
★★★★
Reviewed by Stephen A Russell
Guy Montgomery | My Brain Is Blowing Me Crazy
Victoria Hotel, until April 23
Over the past five years, Guy Montgomery has become one of Oceania’s premier observational comics.
With monotone and occasionally drawling delivery, his ability to elicit riotous laughs from simplistic acts such as catching a tram, buying shampoo, sending emails and purchasing pyjamas is clinical.
There are also back-handed potshots at Cremorne (surely it’s not a real suburb?), the demoralising realisation that we’re all not really needed in our workplaces, and tales of his relationship with his stepdaughter (alongside stealing material for the show from her).
It’s not all G-rated material, however. There are quips about the situations where it’s not appropriate to take ketamine, ingesting LSD and writing jokes in the botanic gardens, and his deep love of weed. That said, they are all delivered with a waggish charm and never feel like they’re intended for shock value.
A very solid starter for a night out at the festival.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Sam See | Government Approved Sex
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 9
A few years back, Singaporean comic Sam See was invited by his government to host a series of public panels demystifying sex. He’s turned what he learnt there into a laugh-packed sex ed lesson that’s genuinely full of the unexpected.
It’s no surprise he scored the gig – he boasts Jimmy Carr swagger and Jiminy Crickett warmth (plus the sartorial panache of both). You trust him, which is essential for a show roaming from romance to kink, the cultural differences in dirty talk, and the worrying reason Durex killed off its global sex survey.
See never aims to shock, though, and the occasional moments of interaction only serve to galvanise the crowd. The stats he reveals – and the way the audience responds – hint at the diversity of experience and desire in any given room. It’s a reminder that there’s no normal, but you’re far more average than you might think.
★★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey
DeAnne Smith | Nipless
Chinese Museum – Silk Room, until April 23
DeAnne Smith is easily distracted, they confirm, and gently chastises an apparent super fan who snaps a photo, mid-gag.
Once the “lovely energy” in the room has been noted, their set brims with meandering anecdotes – mostly about love and loss. They roll out relationship catastrophes – dissecting heartbreak and heart-mending.
The comic veteran canvasses the trials of a Vegas wedding, staying friends with exes and pondering if therapy is worth it. Amid hordes of relatable tales, the elucidation of the show’s title and a random moment of “brain crashing”, there’s a fair whack of heckling.
But is it heckling if the comedian urges the audience to “get involved” from the outset, encouraging “fun contributions”? As loads of interjections are flung, Smith embraces some and bats away others – maintaining a light-hearted grace, a nimble wit, and deft kindness.
Sharp and funny. Is this show better than therapy? Yep.
★★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Mark Watson | Search
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
With a faux beginning, Mark Watson delivers the audience four lies and a single truth to detect. Dressing up as a gigantic dildo, speaking multiple languages, sleeping with an Australian A-lister et al – he leaves the stage and returns two minutes later and leaps into his show and slowly dissects the fiction.
With motormouth delivery and a voice that breaks more often than a 15-year-old, Watson details the repercussions of his failed marriage, the bewilderment of his teenage son’s first Google searches since acquiring a smartphone and Zoom meetings with teachers gone awry.
Generally, fatherly material sinks terribly among most audiences. They, to put it bluntly to most comedians, don’t care about your kids. In Watson’s hands, it’s affable and deftly delivered – as you would expect from a veteran performing at his 11th comedy festival.
A side note: this is not a show you want to be a latecomer for. Watson prepared the audience with a bombardment after his weekend shows were thwarted by traffic issues due to the Grand Prix. It didn’t eventuate tonight, but I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when it does.
Nothing groundbreaking, but thoroughly enjoyable.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Josie Long | Re-Enchantment
Melb Town Hall – Cloak Room, until April 23
Things are so bad in England that Josie Long has absconded to Glasgow. The reasons behind this and the new life Long has built for herself in the radical Scottish idyll form the crux of her new show, clearly pitched to a left-leaning audience.
Terms like “bootlicker” and “scab” are unabashedly lobbed at royalists and landlords, all while donning a winning smile. Long’s at her strongest when she combines her political rhetoric with throwaway lines incorporated so quickly and seamlessly into her routine your laughter plays catch-up.
Memorable jokes about Brexit, abolitionism, socialism and the royals are interspersed with more personal material about receiving an ADHD diagnosis, the challenges of parenting, and the collective trauma of the last few years.
Long cuts a lively and animated figure, prancing across the stage and impersonating anyone, from proponents of bothsidesism to Boomers, with a maniacal voice. Though the jokes dry up in the last quarter, she’s a passionate orator who’s as adept at outlining everything that’s wrong with the world as she is at offering a prognosis of hope.
★★★½
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Steen Raskopoulos | Friendly Stranger
ACMI, until April 23
Striding onto stage, Steen Raskopolous announces his “sparks of joy” show is filled with crowd work, sketches and audience participation.
Limbering up after a five-year hiatus, and showcasing excellent acting and improv chops, he launches into Friendly Stranger – having described the hour as no-sadness, all smiles and happy times.
Quirky contemplations abound. Falling in love. Meeting your soulmate. First kiss. With rakish charm, Raskopolous commandeers audience members to join his shenanigans – and most present a similar feverish conviction to the twisting and turning tales. He issues a witty warning to one recruit who’s attempting to upstage him.
There’s intrigue and mime, but too few laughs. The songs are fine – and then a jarring dick joke. A mystery-thriller thread feels sluggish. Did I just see someone look at their watch?
The final moments involve peak audience interaction, generating the promised joy, merriment and mirth.
★★★½
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Alex Ward | Saving For A Jet Pack
Comedy Republic, Melb Town Hall, until April 23
Millennials will find plenty to relate to in Alex Ward’s latest show. The prospect of homeownership being as unattainable as a jetpack. Feeling too “dead inside” to do a simple task, and not even realising until you’re told. Giving up coffee because the anxiety hits too hard.
The first half of the show is studded with punchlines, delivered in Ward’s lightly sardonic, straight-talking cadence. Melbourne may not have experienced a lockdown since 2021, but the trauma hangover is spun into material as Ward jokes about the ways in which the lockdowns made her straighter. Eliciting further guffaws from the crowd are punchlines about how she and her girlfriend could dupe their way into a cheaper wedding, the problem with a certain type of ally, and reaching the “worst level of fame” as a semi-public figure.
The second half sags slightly, as Ward delivers longer narratives centred on her anxious dog and a strange period in her life following her parents’ divorce. But it’s a confident set throughout – complete with clever throwbacks and sharp storytelling.
★★★½
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Sara Schaefer | Going Up
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
Far from an hour of conventional stand-up, Going Up is a show for true comedy nerds and comedians alike.
Unleashing her inner Tony Robbins, Schaefer conducts a $3000 mock seminar on the world of comedy.
A biting satire and criticism of the scene itself, she outlines what audience members must do to unlock their potential and skyrocket their trajectory in their newfound comedy careers.
Having entered comedy over two decades ago, Schaefer’s cynicism, disdain and grievances with the industry are laid bare – be it the rampant misogyny, how the richest comedians are usually the least funny, and the unspoken rules you need to follow to “make it”.
Occasionally, a tiny puppet version of Schaefer descends from the ceiling to expound on her inner monologue, apprehensions and self-doubt. It’s a clever, dry and meta work of comedy about comedy.
★★★½
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Geraldine Hickey | Of Course We’ve Got Horses
Comedy Theatre, until 23 April
Seasoned comedy veteran Geraldine Hickey is back with an hour of anecdotes recounting her recent wedding and newly acquired hobbies – bird-watching for her, carriage-driving for her wife – delivered in her signature unhurried, deadpan style.
That these musings are somewhat anodyne but conjure big laughs from Hickey’s adoring audience is testament to her skill and charm. Everything lies in the delivery, and not just in Hickey’s offhand narration, but in her expressions – she conveys multitudes through oft-raised eyebrows, a flash of a wicked grin – and her physical comedy. It’s tribute to Hickey’s likeability factor that not even an Adelaide audience member who called her a “capitalist pig dog” can maintain their rancour.
The show ends with a delightfully theatrical flourish – a resplendent celebration of queer community and love – and on a more personal note, a celebration of Hickey’s fans as she tearfully shares the news of her father’s passing, and thanks the room for the love they’ve shown her. Her weekend shows will be cancelled as she regroups with family, but three replacement shows have been added for April 21-23.
★★★½
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Ari Eldjárn | Return of the Icelandic
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 16
If you’re searching for an evening of Nordic hijinks, the biggest name is Icelandic comedy is arguably the only act serving it up this festival.
Eldjárn joyously spins tales of how his government’s pleas for its citizens to not visit a now active volcano were ignored by the people of Reykjavík, how lockdowns in Iceland really just resembled a regular winter, and why his home country is deemed too boring for terrorism by international aviation officials.
There are also sharp observations on the dumbing down of modern-day hip hop, how his sleep apnoea impedes the ability to have one-night stands, and the ear-piercing differences that come with the quality of electric cars.
The feel-good nature of the show is slightly jolted in the final 10 minutes when he begins recollections of his extremely recent divorce. A trimming of the fat would result in another half star.
★★★½
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Claire Hooper | Sweet Charity
Mantra on Russell until April 9
When soft plastic recycling systems collapsed, how many folks breathed a sigh of relief? Former co-host of The Great Australian Bake Off Claire Hooper suspects it’s a lot.
A card-carrying leftie (you’ll get your money’s worth trolling her if you’re right-wing, she suggests) who wants to do the right thing, she also hates being stuck on a green-fingered retreat with her kids. Or having to listen to the mournful dirges of Greens candidates who’ll never get cushy gigs in mining or big pharma.
Picking at the scabs of parental and existential anxiety, she asks if it’s really going to make you feel better if you graciously pay for $45 of someone else’s chicken nuggets while stuck in a drive-through queue when all you want is a coffee? Is generosity to humanity and our future foolish? Sounds like a slog, but the chuckles keep coming and Hooper leaves us with hope.
★★★½
Reviewed by Stephen A Russell
Aurelia St Clair | Non-Dairy Presenting
Trades Hall, until April 23
According to Aurelia St Clair, identifying as “non-dairy presenting” lies at the intersection of polyamory, bisexuality, being “low-key broke” and vegetarianism.
Riffing on Melbourne’s milk options for the lactose intolerant and vegan inclined, St Clair offers accurate reads on suburban subcultures, workplace expectations and queer tropes.
The show moves between PowerPoint presentation, poetry, ASMR and song – like individual vignettes from their TikTok feed. Segues between segments could be smoother, and further syncopation would help punchlines land harder.
Highlights from the show’s commentary include: a remark on soft bois dismantling the patriarchy; a catchy earworm linked to the show’s appellation; an anecdote about a weed dealer with an ambiguous masculine name; and assuring bisexuals that “no one cares about your boyfriend”.
St Clair’s delivery is endearing and approachable – even in moments of dark humour – so don’t be afraid to sit in the front row.
★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar
Andrew Hansen | is Cheap
Trades Hall, until April 23
As the cost-of-living crisis tightens its grip on Australia, an hour with Andrew Hansen offers a few penny-pinching tips for your consumption. None of them are serious, one comes served with a side of giant broccoli, and all have a good helping of cynicism.
Hansen fronts up with his keyboard and guitar to shake (but not shake off) the shackles of our digitised, monetised and plasticised lives. He wanders casually and convincingly into uncomfortable territories – climate change, Nazis, recently deceased celebs and a certain prince who shares his first name. Even Winnie the Pooh and Tigger don’t escape the clutches of capitalism, nor Hansen’s predilection for turning everything into a funny song.
It’s as solid a performance as you’d expect from The Chaser’s music man, and his various impressions are rather good, if not exactly innovative. One standout tune brings the whole show together, but the energy rarely reaches the same level through the rest of the hour.
★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis
Michelle Brasier | Legacy
Comedy Republic, until April 23
Michelle Brasier is thinking about mortality, and with some good reasons. A near crash landing and a festering wound in the crotch area are just two.
From a deep cut Backstreet Boys soundtrack to a sick Gen Z burn, this show is aimed at ageing Millennials – and she has us in the palm of her hand.
Brasier’s high-energy anecdotes take us on a winding journey from Wagga Wagga to Montreal, from birth to death, by car and by plane.
Well-crafted songs peppered throughout are levelled up with moments of wonderful parody, perfect comic timing and proper singing chops.
A “mystery” plot device, however, proves too loose a thread to neatly cinch together a somewhat disjointed narrative.
Legacy is searching for deeper themes that need more space to develop – something Brasier has managed with a deft hand in previous shows.
★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis
Sh!tfaced Shakespeare | Romeo & Juliet
Forum Theatre, until April 23
Two households, both alike in dignity … Yep, the opening of Romeo & Juliet mentions it, but you won’t get too many lines into Sh!tfaced Shakespeare before dignity dies in the arse.
The concept? A troupe of trained Shakespearean actors stage the play, with a random cast member chosen to get completely shlackered in advance.
It’s scripted comedy with solo improv, in the vein of Thank God You’re Here, and the performer picked to act as though they’re maggoted beyond belief has the happy challenge of causing boozed-up derailments to the show.
Lowbrow, puerile humour dominates, from a phial of “poison” up Friar Laurence’s bum to the silliest codpieces since Rik Mayall’s appearance as Lord Flashheart in the second series of Blackadder.
The impromptu ending’s a dumpster fire: those wanting an upbeat feminist rewrite might be safer with & Juliet. Still, this fast, loose, diverting hour sometimes rises to wittier lampoon of Shakespearean performance. Best enjoyed if you’ve had a tipple yourself.
★★★
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead
Lizzy Hoo |Woo Hoo!
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
Lizzy Hoo is on the cusp of turning 40, and she’s feeling fine. Her set is decorated with bright flowers, her outlook is sunny, and she likes who she is. This sets the tone for a show with relatable laughs in the biggest room Lizzy Hoo has performed in for the festival.
Hoo talks through the surprising turns life took for her to end up on stage as a comedian. Wanting to improve her presentation skills somehow led to comedy stages and television shows with some interesting diversions. Like the time she decided she needed to figure out her future by taking a year to work in Mongolia. As you do.
Whether talking about office jobs she loathed or bringing Australian culture to Mongolia, Hoo is in the flow. There’s no dark to offset the light, no life lesson to take home, and not a single lull. It’s peppy, positive, and a damn good time.
★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton
Bea Barbeau-Scurla | House
Storyville, until April 9
With the kind of content warnings that would make a cigarette pack wince, this isn’t the feel-good show of the fest. Right out of the gate, Bea Barbeau-Scurla lets us know she’ll be dragging us laughing and/or screaming into the deep end of the comedy pool. Thankfully, she has the chops to keep us afloat.
For the past decade or so, stand-up has been the go-to art form through which to explore mental health, with big names from Maria Bamford to Patton Oswald to Hannah Gadsby reckoning with their inner demons in public.
Barbeau-Scurla’s hour puts her family in the crosshairs, teasing out the ways in which intergenerational trauma and denial led to angst-ridden teen years and serious adult therapy. Somehow she squeezes big laughs from all this – getting negged by your mum, growing up in a “yelling household”, the harrowing ordeal of reading your old diaries. It’s heavy stuff, but served up with a winningly light touch.
★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey
Larry Dean | Fudnut
Swiss Club/Melbourne Town Hall until April 23
Glaswegian comedian Larry Dean may not have the nasal whine of a certain type of street-fighting guy stereotypically associated with his hometown, but he acknowledges his startling eyes make him appear as if he’s always wearing a tracksuit.
It’s one of several subtle nods to class commentary – like this of his posh boyfriend: “I’m from Glasgow, he’s from money” – tantalisingly hinting at something more behind an often-rambling, take-the-low-road show. Skirting sheepishly around mental health - “Feel your feelings,” implores his therapist - and you can’t help wishing he’d follow their advice instead of always distracting with something silly.
Hung on an overlong and not very interesting airport search drama, at least the constant interjections allow a breather. But when Dean finally coalesces on an emotional tribute to those who lift us up when we need it most, you can feel a much stronger show waiting in the wings.
★★★
Reviewed by Stephen A Russell
Headliners | Reviewed April 4
Melbourne Town Hall – Lower Town Hall, until April 9
What sound do comics not want to hear during a set? Crickets.
In this instance, it seems there were actual crickets, with loud, persistent chirping heckling the 70-minute showcase of disparate comics.
First up, a supremely chill Shalewa Sharpe impressively builds rapport, regaling the audience with menopausal minutiae and other later-in-life experiences.
The Lucas Bros – identical twins Keith and Kenny – have perfected vibing, deadpan humour. Ridiculously hilarious while tackling bullies, the universe and gun control.
Patti Harrison is wondrous to behold. Edgy, odd, eccentric and “not a mean comic”. References to mass shootings, anxiety and Stuart Little are among the chaos.
Finally comes Sheng Wang – the comic most distracted by the cricket noises – questioning why but getting no answers. And despite kidding that “crickets took away my power”, a re-focused Wang persists, adroitly delivering super-sharp lines. And then a moth fluttered past him on stage. No joke.
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Note: No star ratings are applied to group shows
Ray O’Leary | Everything Funny All The Time Always
Chinese Museum, until April 23
A sardonic, slightly dishevelled Ray O’Leary jokes about his hair. A master of repetition, he declares his love of stand-up.
The droll delivery of Berocca-based health messages amuse. There’s a smattering of worthy one-liners. A Movember gag prompts chuckles. A spiel about communicating with pets endears.
However, a number of plodding tales have minimal pay-off. And there’s a flurry of easily-guessed punchlines.
The twice-nominated best comic in New Zealand suggests the sold-out room is lucky he’s here. “My career is going well in New Zealand and I don’t have to be performing at The Chinese Museum in what is clearly the storage room,” he laments.
He alludes to fixing the show and starting again. With a curt farewell, he’s gone. Hopefully in future shows, he gets back his be-be-bounce.
★★½
Reviewed by Donna Demaio
Bron Lewis | Probably
The Westin, until April 23
Joint winner of RAW Comedy in 2022, Bron Lewis takes the predictable path for an early-career solo show: mining childhood trauma.
Coming from a lower socioeconomic background than her fellow high school students, she regales with tales of growing up poor – and the embarrassments that followed. There are fine enough digs at the likes of Peter Dutton and regional towns, but nothing down a road that hasn’t been trodden 1000 times before at this festival.
There’s also an extremely unfortunate punch-down at Big Issue vendors that should be cut immediately. It’s difficult to empathise with anecdotes about growing up in poverty when you put the homeless in your crosshairs.
Lewis tells us that her name Bronwyn means “white breast”. This hour, however, is filled with material more akin to white bread.
Delivered with confidence and warm enthusiasm but lacking the material punch to make it shine, Probably is a lukewarm offering that never quite leaves second gear.
★★½
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
Dougie Baldwin | Mind How Y’Go
The Motley Bauhaus, until April 12
Dougie Baldwin was nominated for Best Comedy Show at the Melbourne Fringe Festival last year for this work. That means either one of two possibilities:
1. He has completely changed the script since then;
2. The judges on the panel were incredibly high at the time when watching him.
As much as Baldwin seeks to portray a level of familial poignancy, this debut show is a structural shambles. The story revolves around a father and the domestic depression that comes with his monotonous lifestyle and the stunted relationships with his loved ones.
There are, perhaps, five minutes of heart-string-tugging moments towards the conclusion, but they are completely vanquished by an elongated piece of flat audience participation – bringing a member on stage for meandering conversation, sitting on a couch and eating cake together. It goes absolutely nowhere and is an utter bore.
Baldwin was trained at the institute run by master French clown Philippe Gaulier. Knowing his temperament, I imagine he’d scold Baldwin for this offering.
★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray
David Quirk, Cobra
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 23
David Quirk is super-respected in the comedy community. He’s won awards, toured overseas with Comedy Festival Roadshow and always brings an eccentrically ’strayan take on modern Australia with a nod to a rough’n’ready upbringing in the 70s and 80s.
Tonight, however, we as crowd never felt like we were in good hands.
Quirk constantly looked at his notes; he seemed to make up a narrative on the spot. Seven nights into his run, this simply isn’t good enough.
Cobra covers masculinity, greedy banks, 7-Eleven FOMO deals and plenty of juicy, embarrassing stories from heady school days including “Todd’s hot urine” and a certain PE teacher being dacked in front of the entire school. Good stuff.
These tales provide brilliant glimpses, but (mostly) they remain only that.
He finishes with a fantastic set piece on the worst heckle he’d ever received and unpacks it expertly, leaving us wondering why he couldn’t have maintained this level of humour throughout… or at the very least memorised the order of his gags.
★★
Reviewed by Mikey Cahill
Miso Bell and Tyler Bain | Make Good
Loop Roof, until April 18
In Make Good, self-help gurus Miso Bell and Tyler Bain invite special guests (and the audience) to take along an object that isn’t bringing them joy.
Participants are interviewed and the object “improved” before their eyes – upcycled in a live craft intervention, savagely annihilated, or both.
It could have been an appealingly deranged Marie Kondo-style experiment. Alas, tech problems plagued the AV setup and the duo’s overreliance on their own objects turned it into a train wreck. Comedian guests outshone them; only one audience member got to play.
Fearless improvisation and more responsive comedy might salvage the original idea. Perhaps jettison the guests save one audience plant, build on the shambolic personas and flashes of wit, and don’t be afraid to upstage or poke fun at interviewees. (Watch Dame Edna interviewing k.d. lang for a masterclass.)
Properly managed, public humiliation can be one of live comedy’s most compelling gifts.
Hoard too much and you should follow Kondo’s advice – thank it for its service and show it the door.
★½
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead
The Melbourne International Comedy Festival is on now until April 23. The Age is a festival media partner.
correction
An earlier version of this story referred to veganism. This error was made during the production process and has been updated to vegetarianism.