Category: 2015 – Adelaide Fringe Festival

[2015080] Karl Redgen: Rapid Fire

[2015080] Karl Redgen: Rapid Fire

Karl Redgen @ Austral Hotel – Red Room

11:00pm, Wed 25 Feb 2015

The précis made me curious; the opening was… strange: over the audio of a scene from Full Metal Jacket, Karl Redgen mimes… something. I’m not sure exactly what he’s trying to do – what he’s trying to evoke – and so I’m a little thankful when he begins his monologue.

But only a little thankful. Redgen has built a comedy show around stories of travel through South-East Asia – Vietnam, Thailand, Laos – and one would hope that there’s some crazy antics to be found in that lot. It’s just that these stories don’t ever really amount to much, and certainly not a punchline. They’re just the sort of tales that you expect from young men travelling through SE Asia (drinking stories, vomit, poo, elephant rides): they may have seemed interesting at the time, but they just did not work when relayed to a disconnected third-party. The occasional theatrical asides added nothing but confusion.

But – worst of all – Redgen had no crowd control. He had two paying punters on the night, and he asked anyone downstairs at the Austral to come up for free. But the resultant group of pissheads (who actually looked too young to be drinking) just talked amongst themselves and made weak-arse comments all through the show… and Redgen let them, nervously appreciating their presence.

And you know what? Fuck that.

I don’t mind performers drumming up an audience by any means necessary – that’s fine, and the donation-at-the-end-of-the-show thing seems to be all the rage this year (and is something I believe there should be more of – it perpetuates the idea that the person on the stage is attempting something worth money, something that seems to be forgotten in the current world of Comp Culture). But inviting people in, and then not keeping them in check like any comedian should to any punter? Poor form.

I was fuming after this show – at the performer, at the pissheads, at myself. And, y’know, that’s not good.

[2015079] Mush and Me by Karla Crome

[2015079] Mush and Me by Karla Crome

Lip Sink Theatre @ Holden Street Theatres – The Arch

9:30pm, Wed 25 Feb 2015

Star-crossed lovers are a dime-a-dozen in the theatre; they are easy characters around which to generate a plot with romance and conflict, offering a lot for audiences to sink their teeth into. So it was with Mush and Me, a tale of a relationship that was never meant to be.

Gabby (Daniella Isaacs) and Mush (Jaz Deol) meet while working in a call centre. They’re both a little apprehensive when they share their vastly different backgrounds – she’s Jewish, he’s Muslim – but they’re soon dating and smitten. Conflict arises, however, when it is revealed that Gabby’s father is dying… and, during bedside vigils and gatherings of family, Mush would not be welcome.

Thereafter come debates about god and humanism, friends and lovers and family; some are thoughtful, some playful, some tear-stained, some aggressive. A well-paced and considerate script doesn’t place blame on one “side” or the other, preferring to let the emotions stand alone; Isaacs and Deol are utterly convincing in their roles.

Whilst it’s hardly a new idea, Mush and Me provided a quality bit of theatre, with a solid script backed up by excellent performances and effective direction. One can only hope that it gets a bigger audience than the handful that turned up for the session this evening.

[2015078] Cut by Duncan Graham

[2015078] Cut by Duncan Graham

Hannah Norris @ Holden Street Theatres – The Manse

7:30pm, Wed 25 Feb 2015

Anyone who’s been in The Manse knows what a tiny, intimate space it is… and with early viewings of Cut generating a huge amount of buzz – the kind of breathless buzz that precedes awards and commendations – these were certainly hot tickets. In fact, when I eventually slotted Cut into The Schedule, there were only a trio of performances that weren’t listed as sold-out.

Each member of the tiny audience is individually greeted by Hannah Norris, already in character as an airline stewardess, at the door; we’re carefully seated in the venue with their backs to opposite walls, nine on each side: it’s uncomfortable facing other people about three metres away. Once the entrance is shut, Norris explains that we cannot leave via that door: if anyone feels claustrophobic, or requires assistance, they were to use the safe-word: “Cut.”

There’s a slightly nervous titter in the audience, and I feel a hint of claustrophobia… and then, with an unnerving wall of noise, the lights plunge to an inky black. There’s a collective gasp in the audience, and you sense smiles wavering.

A small, faint light appears, and Norris is on the opposite side of the room… there’d been no sound as she’d moved past, no whisper of her passing, so it’s a little bit of a surprise. Her monologue begins: it’s early in the morning. She’s applying makeup, preparing for her next flight out. She think’s she’s being stalked.

But a blunt shift in lighting seems to change her perspective: we switch from a cool, professional persona to one that is wracked with fear. And we spend most of the performance flitting between these two states, never quite sure which one – if not either, if not both – is “real”.

And it’s an utterly terrifying performance, with the staging and the claustrophobia and the lack of surety all weighing heavily on my mind. Hannah Norris is utterly superb, completely selling these unsettling characters and completely filling the space. But of equal import is Elizabeth Gadsby’s design and Sam Hopkins’ custom lighting system; they, along with Russell Goldsmith’s unnerving soundscapes, seem to heighten the tension.

Cut was the best kind of installation theatre, tricking most of my senses into accepting its world. It’s one of those shows that I felt happy not being able to recommend it to people (due to its sold-out status), because it’s tough to rave about something so… dark and bleak and brutal. But I raved about it anyway.

[2015077] Frank, the Mind-reading Hotdog

[2015077] Frank, the Mind-reading Hotdog

Matt Penny @ Holden Street Theatres – The Studio

6:00pm, Wed 25 Feb 2015

I’m eating sleep-averting Twisties in the bar at Holden Street when a man approaches me: “You’re here to see Frank, the Mind-reading Hotdog?” he queries. I nod afformatively and, noticing the clipboard in his hand, guessed what was coming next. “Draw any picture,” he suggested, “as long as you can recreate it later on.”

So, since I’m a Pisces, I drew this, keeping the image to myself:

A crap attempt at a fish

(I quite like the left-handed wry smile.)

And, with a nod (and without seeing what I’d drawn), the man talks me to keep the piece of paper in my pocket… and walks away.

When the audience settles in The Studio for Frank the Mind-reading Hotdog, numbers are disappointing… depressing, even. There’s six of us in the space, and at least two of those were Holden Street staff; but it doesn’t take much cajoling for us to all sit in the front row, and one of the other ticket holders is bubbly and enthusiastic.

When Frank the Mind-reading Hotdog appears… well, he’s a hotdog. Or a man in a sketchy hotdog suit, anyway. He explains away the suit, tells us a little about himself (a Perth-based mentalist), and a bit about the trickery behind mentalism… and then proceeded to blow our minds.

Sure, I can speculate on how some of his tricks were performed: three six digit numbers, added together, texted to a phone… I can kinda see how that might work. Audience members interacting with three sections of a board which never leaves Frank’s hands… yeah, I’ve kinda got that one, too.

But knowing about my fish? Picking the fact that I wrote “bedroom” on a card (though I’m probably wearing my Significant Other’s impending visit all over my face)? Convincing one girl he touched her left hand, when he only touched her right?

That stuff was amazing.

And through it all, Frank is… just Frank. A sweaty man in a non-breathing hotdog suit. He’s constantly taking the piss out of himself (and the audience), and there’s awful jokes between each trick that keep the show moving along… the mentalism almost feels incidental to his preposterous presence. But it totally works. And the fact that we were so close to him at every stage of proceedings just made his tricks all the more special.

(I talked to Frank after the show and learn that he’d just lost a friend back in Perth, and was cancelling the rest of his run to return there for the funeral. Mad props to him for delivering such a professional show with that weighing on his mind.)

[2015076] Best of Adelaide Fringe: Late Show

[2015076] Best of Adelaide Fringe: Late Show

Rik Carranza [emcee] (with Jack Campbell, Matt Grey, Evan Desmarais, & Nik Coppin) @ Belgian Beer Cafe ‘Oostende’

10:15pm, Tue 24 Feb 2015

After my previous show ran long, I wound up scooting upstairs at the Belgian Beer Cafe just after the emcee for the evening, Rik Carranza, had taken to the stage to try and fire up the assembled crowd. This proved to be a little difficult, not necessarily because of his initial material (mostly based on his Asian heritage), but more due to the layout of the venue: lounge seating wrapped around the sides of the stage, which meant that people who opted for the super-comfy option (rather than the stock seating directly in front of the stage) were very much physically laid back (not a good way to seem attentive), and on the fringes of the performer’s vision. Despite this, Carranza garnered some laughs throughout the evening, though his hosting duties were more perfunctory than exemplary.

First of the main acts was Jack Campbell (2014’s English Comedian of the Year). His spot was pretty good fun, but he looked physically brittle onstage… which was easily explained once he revealed the ripper sunburn that he’d acquired at the beach. Oh, you foolish Englishmen, will you never learn? Our sun is not like your sun.

(…says the guy who once got sunburnt in Edinburgh, Scotland.)

Mute Matt (Matt Grey) was up next, performing a mime set that owed a lot to The Boy With Tape On His Face. It was a really polished spot, let down only by the reluctance of the audience… once again, those lounges that framed the stage must have been super comfy, because no-one wanted to budge from them.

After a bit of a break, Canadian Evan Desmarais tried to gee people up with some political material – which I loved, but the laid-back crowd were a little more circumspect. Any goodwill they gave him, however, flew out the window when he attempted to make terrorism less terror-y… the potential political incorrectness of the material completely killed the mood, though – once again – I thought it was pretty reasonable comedy. It’d be interesting to see Desmarais with a like-minded and interested crowd, rather than a bunch of people lounging back in their seats and checking Facebook.

Finally, Nik Coppin brought his usual easygoing charm to proceedings, and won the crowd back with his lively banter and engagement, this time focussing on his time-tested and true stories about racism.

In a rapidly-expanding field of comedy line-up shows, Best of Adelaide Fringe: Late Show doesn’t really do much to differentiate itself… apart from using an awkward (for the performers) room. Was this really, as the title would claim, the “Best of Adelaide Fringe”? Well, no… but there were some moments worth a solid chortle, and Evan Desmarais and Jack Campbell proved to be names to look out for in the future.

[2015075] FUSION GUITAR: CLASSICAL & PERCUSSIVE GUITAR

[2015075] FUSION GUITAR: CLASSICAL & PERCUSSIVE GUITAR

Declan Zapala @ The Garage International – Town Hall

9:00pm, Tue 24 Feb 2015

So – I’m scanning through the Fringe Guide in early (late?) January, and a phrase leapt off the page at me: “You won’t believe it’s just one man and a guitar.” I’m interested, and read the rest of the précis… and when I saw “classical & percussive guitar”, I immediately thought of the amazing Tim McMillan. But I’ve been hurt by that expectation before, so I was a little wary when heading to the Town Hall.

But I bump into some old neighbours in the queue out front, and we have a nice chat… it’s been ages since I’d seen them, and we swap stories and they’re super-interested in hearing about my new belle, and I’m loving the opportunity to tell them about it since (a) I’m pretty sure they thought I was gay, and (2) she’s coming to Adelaide in three days and to say that I was a little excited was an extreme understatement. Anyway… we chat, the doors open, and the deceptively large Town Hall venue gets about a quarter full of mainly middle-aged people who mostly seem to have some idea who Declan Zapala is.

I, however, have no idea who he is.

It turns out that Zapala is a slight, quiet Englishman who plays guitar well. His fingers are undoubtedly quick, but I must admit to being a little disappointed with his opening two pieces, both Eric Roche covers… the technical skills were certainly there, but there was little engagement on the musical level.

But once Zapala moved onto his own compositions, my interest was stoked: they tended to be more uptempo, intricate pieces that showed off the fast fingering style of guitar that I’d been hoping to see. And this was genuinely compelling stuff… for awhile. But let me be completely honest here: the music was awesome, but – once I got the groove of any of his pieces, and figured out his rhythms and percussion points – I spent much of the performance with my eyes closed, imagining that I was in the arms of my Significant Other. My mind would drift forward another three days… but then the song would end, there’d be some wonderfully English banter with the audience, and the next song would grab me… for awhile.

Fusion Guitar was certainly well-performed, and Declan Zapala’s own songs were compelling listening… and he’s a lovely bloke, too, with his amiable chatter and insistence on meeting people at the end of the show. But rather than songs being a fusion of nimble picking and percussion, as I’d hoped, alternate songs tended to focus on one of the two styles… and that left me longing for McMillan’s batshit-insane approach to melding the two approaches in the one song.

[2015074] Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind: 30 Plays in 60 Minutes

[2015074] Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind: 30 Plays in 60 Minutes

The Neo-Futurists @ Garden of Unearthly Delights – Le Cascadeur

6:55pm, Tue 24 Feb 2015

I love performances that are composed of lots of little vignettes; the amazing (and always different) 52 Pick Up is my favourite such show. But whilst that show has a fixed script, delivered in a random order, Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind ups the ante a little: a random order, sure, but the thirty plays themselves are sourced from a much bigger pool… and many are freshly written.

Upon entry, the packed house was given a programme containing details of the performers, et al… but also, more importantly, the list of all the plays for the evening (or, rather, the “Menu for 24 & 25 February, 2015”). The numbers one to twenty-nine hung on sheets of paper over the stage, ready to be torn down when performed; the thirtieth play, we were informed, would only be performed if there was enough time. And then, with much of the audience yelling out their favourite numbers as a direction for the next play, they were off.

The cast of five hurtled through the plays, but with titles like “Variations on how it could go”, as short as “dervish”, or as ridiculously long as “If you and I met tonight and this hug sealed our fate even if just for a moment and we would be together in something so real you and I and all of our friends growing, changing, and evolving into something more, something that we cannot grasp just yet but it is there it is here and it is so CLOSE SO CLOSE JUST STOP AND FEEL IT FOR A MOMENT”, there’s no real idea what to expect. They are simply vignettes, well performed (usually for laughs), and sometimes with audience interaction: the long title above required audience members to hug the cast. I was anxious to not waste time – I wanted to see play thirty! – so as soon as I realised what was required, I leapt out of my seat to hug the performer… only to realise that he was way taller than me, and the hug was a little… awkward. In addition, “This or That” was a cracking little piece of wordplay, and “The Grapes of Wrath” was also a winner.

In the end, we ran out of time: our audience didn’t get to see the thirtieth play. And I was a little bit miffed about that… but still left with an overwhelmingly positive feeling in my heart for Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind. Some solid writing is more-than-backed-up by some incredibly enthusiastic performers, leading to a uniquely entertaining experience.

(Side note: as the crowd was squeezing into Le Cascadeur, my Korean acquaintance from the previous week tapped me on the shoulder and gave me a copy Hi Seoul Festival programme… which looked magnificent. Thanks!)

[2015073] My Life in Boxes

[2015073] My Life in Boxes

Gravity Dolls @ Gluttony – The Lotus Palace

5:20pm, Tue 24 Feb 2015

Cross-artform performances are hardly new; even attempts to merge theatre and circus have been seen before. Where My Life in Boxes could have reeled me in was in the content of the narrative: one of the characters was a hoarder seeking change. I was hoping to find familiarity in that.

Performed in front of a wall of cardboard boxes, a simple relationship between the characters – a café owner, Elise, and a doctor at the nearby hospital, Teddy – develops. The contents of some of the boxes are used to trigger events in the narrative – in their relationship – and one suspects that the idea was to generate a sense of discovery.

It’s clear that a lot of thought has been put into the set, but the manner in which the performers (Tim Rutty & Tarah Carey) interact with it is almost superfluous to both the narrative and the tricks. In fact, more effort seemed to have been given to the viewer‘s interaction with the set than the actors, as audience participation includes minor prep work (that could easily have been avoided).

The acrobatic side of the performance, too, felt unnecessary, and even in stark contrast to the accompanying narrative: tricks often seemed to have energy levels mismatched with the scenes that bookended them. If they were supposed to symbolically add to the narrative, it was lost on me.

I think I can see what Gravity Dolls were aiming for with My Life in Boxes, but it didn’t really work for me. The narrative was too thin and – despite a few poignant moments – bordered on the twee. The physical side of the performance was too basic to engage, and there were a few stumbles with tricks on the night. In the end, I’m not even sure whether the whole measured up to the sum of its parts.

[2015072] Lisa-Skye’s Lovely Tea Party

[2015072] Lisa-Skye’s Lovely Tea Party

Lisa-Skye (with Becky Lou & Nicole Henriksen) @ Tuxedo Cat – Rivers Studio

9:45pm, Mon 23 Feb 2015

I’d previously encountered Lisa-Skye in a couple of guest spots previously, but had never actually given her money for any of her shows; I felt obliged to change that this year, and so I – and maybe a dozen other people – sat in on her tea-party this Monday night.

Lisa-Skye uses the performance as an opportunity to record her podcast, but she front-loads the show with a bit of her comedy: on this occasion, she talked about a weird encounter in her favourite Berlin sex club. She also introduces her board of topics from which her guests would select conversation starters – “Animalia” and “Snack-off” were amongst the selections this evening, and each was introduced with its own jingle.

I was stoked with her guests this evening: Nicole Henriksen brought a slightly tempered version of her insanity to proceedings, and Becky Lou (previously seen at IT’S RABBIT NIGHT!!!) provided a relatively restrained contrast to the madness of Lisa-Skye and Nicole.

The conversation between the trio was wide ranging: phobias, the skin care benefits of semen, coat of arms, and Fringe survival tactics. Lisa-Skye and Henriksen also discussed – with scary statistics and much cattiness – the “joys” of performing at the Edinburgh Fringe, and Becky Lou’s nipple health details were… ummmmm. Yes. But, on the strength of her presence during the Tea Party, I committed to seeing Becky Lou’s show later in the Fringe… so that was a win.

Lisa-Skye is a pretty strong personality and keeps the show moving along, but she also has a tendency to dominate conversations somewhat (though she also manages to pull the guests back in after a quiet spell). And hey – the “guest” portions of the show are available on Lisa-Skye’s podcast, so that’s nice too.

[2015071] I Still Call Australia Homo

[2015071] I Still Call Australia Homo

In & Out @ Tuxedo Cat – Perske Pavilion

8:30pm, Mon 23 Feb 2015

Inspired by real-life accounts of homosexual discrimination from all around the world, I Still Call Australia Homo creates a dystopian Australia, where homosexuality has been outlawed & gay-bashing is commonplace. But this dystopia is placed in an eerily idyllic setting: two clean neighbouring houses, manicured gardens, The Great Australian Dream. Two perfect colour-coded couples, Orangey-Red and Aqua-Green.

The Red couple are new to the neighbourhood, and the Greens welcome them with open arms – dinner parties, BBQs, tea and yoga for the women, beer and house maintenance for the men. Early on, there’s a lot of friendly banter and innuendo being flung around… but there’s also openly homophobic remarks, and references to the persecution of homosexuals. The two men eventually develop a relationship, which tears both couples apart… and then the accusations fly thick and fast: just why did the Reds move here, anyway?

For the most part, I Still Call Australia Homo is a relatively conventional production, with a sincere message that is sugar-coated with plenty of humour. Innuendo litters the first half of the show, and the Green Woman stands as a comedic contrast to the rest of the characters. But there’s some really great bits of direction in there, too: the scenes where the characters investigate different dialogue choices triggered by hammering and perfectly synchronised turns of the head are superb.

It’s only long after the show is over that I recognised – and mused upon – one of the more biting aspects of the script: Red Woman is shocked early on by the homophobic jokes of Green Woman, and Green subsequently assumes that Red is a lesbian, though that’s never confirmed by the script. That layer of guilty-by-association is pretty nasty, and perhaps the most sneakily insidious part of this world. And whilst I wasn’t completely sold on I Still Call Australia Homo at the time, it’s nice that it gave me something to think about after-the-fact.

[2015070] Destroyer of Worlds

[2015070] Destroyer of Worlds

Rock Surfers Theatre Company @ Tuxedo Cat – Cusack Theatre

7:15pm, Mon 23 Feb 2015

Caleb Lewis is responsible for one of my favourite bits of Fringe Theatre ever, and this semi-autobiographical piece doesn’t paint him in a good light at all. Destroyer of Worlds wraps the build up – and, more importantly, the breakdown – of Caleb’s relationship with Lauren, and juxtaposes it with the relationship between Little Boy and Hiroshima, which is intertwined with parallels between Haruo Nakajima (the actor in the original Godzilla suit) and J. Robert Oppenheimer (one of the fathers of the atomic bomb).

And, in case that wasn’t enough, Caleb Lewis himself sits among the audience, occasionally stopping the actors – Rebecca Mayo and Phil Spencer – mid-sentence, as he tries to deal with his dissatisfaction of their rendition of his life, and comes to terms with his own issues. Lewis’ harassment of the cast members is brilliantly done, and the best excuse I’ve seen in years to break the fourth wall… the manner in which he alternately attacks and cajoles Mayo to try and get her to evoke the spirit of Lauren is something special.

All the above may seem like a mishmash of incongruent ideas, but it’s actually some of the cleanest, clearest writing I’ve seen in a Fringe theatre piece for years. But it’s accented and clarified by clever use of projections, video overlays (including Lewis’ Mum passing judgement around his relationship with Lauren), and just brilliant direction.

Look – I was likely to love this show from the outset… hey, it’s Caleb Lewis, and Death in Bowengabbie is a major work for me. But the fact that I loved this performance so much, despite sitting there feeling absolutely terrified that I may experience a relationship breakdown like this someday? That must mean that Destroyer of Worlds is something very special.

[2015069] POP POP

[2015069] POP POP

Penny Greenhalgh @ Tuxedo Cat – Rivers Studio

6:00pm, Mon 23 Feb 2015

The photo for POP POP in the Fringe Guide is, frankly, hideous… and the kind of thing that screams confidence. And that, alone, is enough to get me to see a show.

Penny Greenhalgh creates curiosity with her first impressions: creeping in from the rear of the room, she whispered desired “responses” into the ears of the audience, creating an odd – and very slow-moving – ripple of appreciation. There’s a (contradictory) surety to her initial onstage bumblings, and a conviction behind the statement that POP POP was written as an arena spectacular, but subsequently scaled back to a small room experience.

Greenhalgh’s “ice dancing” demonstration (with rollerblades) is a gangly and uncoordinated hoot, and undoubtedly dangerous to both herself and her audience; her attempt at crowd-surfing with an audience that barely hit double-digits likewise risky. And, as is rapidly becoming the norm, I was dragged up onstage to help perform a radio-play version of her soon-to-be breakout hit, “51 Shades of Grey”… the script was hilariously terrible, and required me to make a ton of animal noise sound effects. At least I got to kiss Penny at the end of the piece (leading to a panicky phone call immediately following the show to my Significant Other).

Another Gaulier graduate, Penny Greenhalgh garners a lot of laughs from putting herself into awkward – and dangerous – situations, and then just stewing there awhile. It’s an intriguing presentation from an amazingly confident performer; I’ll certainly be in line to see what she does next.

[2015068] Tripped

[2015068] Tripped

Attic Erratic @ Tuxedo Cat – Cusack Theatre

9:45pm, Sun 22 Feb 2015

Two soldiers walking through a battlefield in another land, regrouping after a helicopter crash… until Norm feels the switch of a landline beneath his feet. Mike leaves Norm for help – not necessarily an easy thing to find in battle. In his absence, a foreign soldier points his rifle at Norm in glee… until he, too, feels the click of a landmine as he approaches.

So begins Tripped, in what should have been a taut and charged look at racial prejudices as – in the face of death – Ahmed and Norm talk… not as enemies, but as unlikely brothers-in-arms. They compare their backgrounds: both have lived in Australia, both have families, both are physically wilting in the desert with rapidly depleting water reserves, and both are a footstep away from a mutual death. With so much in common, how could they be on different sides?

The idea – I’m guessing – is that Norm’s persistent racial prejudices (he’s constantly calling civilians “rag heads”) would appear to be such an unsustainable contrast that we – the audience – would nod sagely and think “yep, those there ingrained notions are bad.” But Norm is so blinkered, and so one-sided, that the script is stretched right out, and becomes too overt in its message. I found Norm to be so unlikeable that I started thinking that the loss of Ahmed’s (relatively) innocent life would be a small price to pay to rid the world of Norm.

And I can totally see why people may rave about Tripped: the performances are great (Ezel Doruk holds Ahmed together really well), and there’s some nice little touches in the direction. But I found it laborious and overt in the extreme… if I’d had my way, the story would’ve ended a lot quicker.

[2015067] Zoe Coombs Marr is DAVE

[2015067] Zoe Coombs Marr is DAVE

Zoe Coombs Marr @ Tuxedo Cat – Rivers Studio

8:30pm, Sun 22 Feb 2015

Dave would have to be one of the most rank, feral, sleazy shitbag characters to ever grace a stage, I reckon. An aspiring comic, he’s anxious for his stage time to reflect all that is great about the World of Dave… and that makes for a deeply unsettling hour.

Oh – and it’s funny. Dave is funny. We laugh at him – at his poor humour, poor judgement, poor presentation, poor choices… and the yawning chasm of desperation that he inadvertently shows. He’s a hateful, yet utterly sympathetic character.

But it only works because Dave is played by a woman.

Zoe Coombs Marr has created a character that, because of her portrayal of him, is able to get away with some of the most politically incorrect stuff that I’ve heard onstage this year – christ, it still feels bad to have laughed at that rape joke. But because Dave is supposed to be an every-man – or an every-comic – she’s able to put a lot of home-truths into his act, and – in turn – make her act potently political.

And funny. Did I mention that Dave is funny?

With his filthy thin ponytail, sweaty neckbeard, a backhanded admonishment for women, and an overly desperate need for companionship (Dave was constantly trying to find out where I lived so he could come over and hang out), it’s impossible to like Dave on any level. With his terribly immature rant about the hidden clitoris, it’s impossible not to pity him. When he seems like he’s walking down a path to discovering that he’s gay, it’s impossible not to piss yourself laughing at Zoe’s performance, with Dave’s mental contortions evident on his slimy face. And when Dave falls onstage, and stands back up with a trickle of blood running down his face… well, I felt equal parts happy and sad.

In the months since I encountered Dave‘s efforts at comedy, I’ve had opportunities to really mull over its qualities… and I reckon that I’d rave more about it now than I did back then. It’s an astonishingly astute, repulsive, and loveable character that Zoe Coombs Marr has developed; the emotional dissonance I felt in that hour was quite unlike anything else I’ve experienced.

[2015066] Aunty Donna

[2015066] Aunty Donna

Aunty Donna @ Tuxedo Cat – Perske Pavilion

7:15pm, Sun 22 Feb 2015

Man, there was some serious buzz around Aunty Donna prior to their short run of shows; I had pencilled them in on the strength of the word “absurd” in their ‘Guide précis, but I got the feeling soon after taking my seat (in a packed Perske Pavilion) that Aunty Donna were really well known.

Apparently, they’ve got a heap of people following them online, or something.

So it turns out that Aunty Donna do sketch comedy… and it’s super polished. The three members of the group – Zachary Ruane, Broden Kelly, and Mark Samual Bonanno – have a wonderful chemistry, and they have their sketches down cold. And – better still – they like to dabble with some unconventional ideas.

Sure, there’s the occasional material that isn’t weird – but parental text messages are the closest Aunty Donna come to conventional. The rest of the time, their sketches are fractured by non sequiturs or just change direction abruptly. But everything just works: songs, sketches, a water fight…

I was bloody impressed by Aunty Donna… but then I started digging on their YouTube Channel. And bugger me if this isn’t the best thing ever. Consider me a devotee.