Room, meet elephant: This is a comedy show that goes where few would dare

Frankie McNair | Huge-Ass Mindset
Victoria Hotel – Acacia Room, until April 19

Brace for impact. Frankie McNair won best newcomer at the Comedy Festival in 2022, and it’s not hard to see why. Arriving onstage with the energy of an overclocked nuclear reactor, the 32-year-old holds her audience with the assuredness of someone who’s been at this for decades longer than she has. And held you’ll need to be.

Room, meet elephant: There’s been no shortage of comedy hours tackling bleak and painful lived experiences over the past few decades, but childhood sexual abuse is about the least funny of all unfunny things. And it’s not even the only unfunny thing McNair manages to draw laughs from.

While all the trigger warnings are warranted here, it’s not therapy theatre. McNair makes light of dark subjects with a gleeful flippancy that would raise the eyebrows of even the edgiest shock comic, but this emotional rollercoaster is for survivors, not tourists.
★★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey

Matt Okine | No.10 Hope St
Arts Centre – Fairfax Studio, until April 12

For about 30 seconds or so, Matt Okine bounds across the stage, obviously pumped to be on his first national tour in six years. He’s a little puffed but soon settles into a brilliant hour about life, family, real estate agents and full-body ringworm.

There’s a pre-emptive apology as soon as he notices there are kids in the room. The pair, aged 9 and 10, having seen Okine in Mother and Son (the ABC TV series also starring Denise Scott), headed along to the show with their folks. Just before wading into highly personal and forensically detailed territory about becoming a dad, Okine asks the family, “Do you need to leave? Because now is the time.” They stay.

With a hint of swagger and oodles of charm, Okine enthusiastically delivers hilarious insights. Brisbane, where he now lives, and the CFMEU get a bruising. It’s funny stuff.
★★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio

Blake Pavey | A Bit Scared
Arts Centre Melbourne – The Pavilion, Until April 12

If you’ve seen any of Blake Pavey’s TikToks you’ll know that having a terminal illness is a big part of his identity. So imagine how bummed he is to have been told recently that the drugs he’s been taking for his cystic fibrosis are working, and he’s going to have a long and healthy life. “As a straight white male comedian, that was the trump card in my back pocket,” he says. Without it, who is he?

The answer is a surprisingly political and occasionally quite edgy performer who manages to draw a line from chicken strips to the Gaza Strip via a recollection of his time as a teenaged presenter on BTN – Behind the News, and who dares to appreciate the dramatic timing of Charlie Kirk’s assassin, who waited until the right-wing proselytiser had launched into a tirade about black people being the cause of gun violence before taking him out (the shooter was, of course, white).

He’s not averse to safer gags, too, poking fun at Frankston, Mildura and his own rural NSW upbringing, and highlighting the cultural challenges and rewards of dating an Albanian Muslim woman. The young audience lapped it up, even when being berated for their willing embrace of AI. With his own death sentence behind him, Pavey, who plays Troy Darrell in the new season of Deadloch, appears to have a big future ahead.
★★★★
Reviewed by Karl Quinn

Tommy Little | Namaste Away From Me
Comedy Theatre, until April 19

I don’t think the term “hot mess” is typically applied to men, but that is how Tommy Little presents himself in Namaste Away From Me. He’s got an affable grin and a sense of humour that’s crude enough to titillate an upper-middle-class mum, but not so crude as to get him in trouble. It’s a schoolboy charm that works a treat on a certain demographic of women.

It’s hard to be a man in your early 40s encountering attachment styles for the first time, and Little does a great job of turning his shortfalls into hilarious stories, without ever becoming overly self-deprecating. He knows how to work a crowd, and can do an extremely convincing impression of a horse.

I applaud a man who tries to fix himself instead of expecting a woman to. Come to the show to see for yourself if it’s successful.
★★★★
Reviewed by Rose Lu

Mel McGlensey is Normal
Chinese Museum – Jade Room, until April 19

Let’s set the record straight: Mel McGlensey is not normal. In this case, however, that may not strictly be her fault. McGlensey has handed over her show to the audience, putting them in charge of a choose-your-own-adventure format that unfolds according to their prompts. If the show I saw was anything to go by, audiences can’t help opting for the most unhinged, unlikely choice they are offered. Results may change, but they are invariably entertaining.

Co-created with game designer Douglas Wilson, this show is an artful blend of technology and clowning. It’s an ambitious, technically complex challenge that reaches the height of its aspirations.

McGlensey displays outstanding physical comedy skills and delights the audience with her oddity; it speaks to her charm that they are not only willing but enthusiastic about participating in this absurdity. No two shows are the same, but each is sure to be weirdly wonderful.
★★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

Ariana and the Rose | The Break-up Variety Hour
Trades Hall – Solidarity Hall, until April 19

Ariana and the Rose takes you through the heart-wrenching and hopeful emotional roller coaster of a break-up in this one-woman cabaret show. The lyrics in Ariana Di Lorenzo’s soaring ballads and sassy upbeat tunes feel like the soundtrack to a noughties romantic comedy or a millennial’s favourite pop album (the song Let the Rain Fall Down is inspired by a Hilary Duff banger).

Like a girlfriend chatting to you over a drink, the Brooklyn-based performer asks who in the crowd is single, surprisingly revealing a large portion are in relationships. Perhaps this explains their initial tepid reactions (at one point she wonders aloud why Australian audiences aren’t as forthcoming). Unbothered, Di Lorenzo continues to cajole them with her perky personality, and they can’t help leaning into the experience.

The high ceilings in Solidarity Hall don’t quite deliver the richness of sound or intimacy the show needs – a piano bar or small theatre would’ve created the proximity required to connect with the audience – but it works nonetheless. Take your newly single girlfriends – this is the catharsis they need.
★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

He Huang | T.E.M.U Joke Factory
Chinese Museum – Silk Room, until April 19

Is a joke still funny if you have to explain how it was constructed? In T.E.M.U Joke Factory He Huang explores this question through the history of her development as a comedian, and the alterations she has had to make to her shows and material over her years performing across the US, China and Australia.

Huang’s delivery is dry with a touch of foreboding. A comedian-cum-statistician, she is keeping tabs on which demographics laugh at which jokes; it’s a little unnerving to become acutely aware of the fact that the performer you are watching is watching you back.

If you love shows that interrogate form and get really meta, then this is the one for you. The bottom kept dropping out of the show again and again, building to an ending that is unpredictable and a little uncontained. It’s a bold and ambitious show that mostly delivers, and leaves you thinking about what you’re laughing at.
★★★★
Reviewed by Rose Lu

Nazeem Hussain: I’d Like to Tell You about Some Jokes
Max Watts, until April 19

Nazeem Hussein wears his political heart on his sleeve. He comes out swinging and ready to rumble, pummelling Pauline Hanson, racists, colonisers. Scorching observations spill from the accomplished stand-up who knows exactly what he’s doing – prodding and polarising as he goes. He seems to relish the shock and awe when jokes strike. At one point, he springs a speculative summation of why Trump bombed Iran.

While it’s unclear if Hussain is kidding when he admits to attending anti-immigration rallies looking for material, there’s plenty to laugh at as he tests the crowd’s boundaries.

A “comedy is a risky game” quip follows a raft of race-based digs and a mild rebuke of Collingwood fans. Even Bluey cops a bit of flack as Hussain grips the room via astute, often amusing, scrutiny.
★★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio

Geraldine Hickey | A Weight off My Chest
Comedy Theatre, until April 19

Geraldine Hickey grew up with “shit boobs” that always felt like they were in the way, so she got breast-reduction surgery. Except the breasts were removed in their entirety – a literal and figurative weight off the veteran comedian’s chest, and the basis for her latest show.

The surgery is a springboard to even more deep and personal subjects. Hickey weaves activism and advocacy through her set, speaking about her wife Cath Bateman, an abortion nurse, and the importance of gender-affirming care, to cheers from the crowd. It’s a different reaction online, of course – Hickey shares the nastiest comments she’s received from trolls to audible gasps from the audience – but she plays it off with her signature deadpan delivery, highlighting the absurdity of some of the attacks.

These are serious topics, but they’re interwoven with Hickey’s signature comic misdirection and physicality, and her unwavering belief in a better world.
★★★★
Reviewed by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Laura Davis | Swag
The Greek – Paw Paw Jump, until April 19

Laura Davis is an unsung anti-hero of Australian comedy, revered by those in the know but perceived as too cerebral and contrarian to be palatable to the masses. That’s why she’s lived in the UK for the better part of a decade, but after a hellish divorce she’s back with a show about life uprooted and the ambivalent freedoms of a jolly swagperson.

But then – record scratch – Davis has thrown that show on the fire. In the face of a world going up in smoke, who has the patience for another stand-up fawning for their audience’s affection? She’s gone on a comedy strike, but despite pledging no laughs during her hour, there are plenty smuggled in as she unpacks the performativity of public action from within.

There’s an Andy Kaufman-esque absurdity to her protest, wherein wondering if this is sincere or just a “bit” misses the point. She won’t be offered a commercial TV gig any time soon, but thank god she’s here.
★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey

Tilly Oddy-Black | Tilly Does A Show
Chinese Museum – Silk Room, until April 19

If you’ve ever been on social media, chances are you’ve come across Tilly Oddy-Black or one of her many characters, from a clueless mum to a feral niece to the popular girl in high school. The Sydney-based comedian’s debut live show incorporates a cast of these characters as guides for her, well, writing a show, around the conceit of a headshot photoshoot where the photographer, voiced off-stage, wants to know exactly what the show is about: What are the themes? What’s the through-line?

It feels like Oddy-Black is getting ahead of criticism through asking those questions, because there’s not much narrative cohesion here; a spinning character roulette only highlights that point.

Her physicality and voice acting are excellent, and an audience-participation segment where she plays a psychic is a highlight, with even Oddy-Black breaking character to laugh in surprise. But ultimately, it feels like scrolling TikTok – good fun, but you eventually need a break.
★★★
Reviewed by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Emmanuel Sonubi | Life After Near Death
Melbourne Town Hall – Powder Room, until April 19

Comedians are not generally known for their sculpted physiques, so it’s notable that Emmanuel Sonubi looks as though he could bench-press a llama. That’s one reason he’s known in British comedy circles as The Bouncer. The other is that he’s a bouncer.

He’s not the immortal he-man he first appears, however, and this hour is loosely gathered around the moments he has found himself teetering on the threshold of death’s door. A tendency to overindulge in vices both licit and otherwise have taken their toll, but as someone who came of age in the ’90s – the coolest decade, as he reminds us – he’s not quite ready to settle into domestic repose just yet.

There’s a youthfulness to his lively banter that knowingly tips into the juvenile at times – think “ya mum” as a punchline – and he wisely avoids trying to fashion his material into a pat moral lesson. He might be comedy’s most beefed-up funnyman, but here he’s serving up good ol’ comfort-food.
★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey

Conk | Man Sings the Same Song Over and Over Again for an Hour
The Westin, until April 19

Conk (aka Connor Dariol) delivers exactly what the show title promises: the same song, on repeat, for an hour. By the time he’s finished touring it, he’ll have sung it over 1000 times on stage. Sounds horrific, doesn’t it? I can guarantee you, it’s anything but. This is a giddy, delirious and hilariously absurd journey down a rabbit hole towards madness for both audience and performer.

Of course, there’s more to the show than the one song. There are mass singalongs, dancing in the aisles, and audience members turning into both rock stars and boudoir photographers. It all crescendos into a full-blown music festival. The show was the cult sleeper (and award-winning) hit of the Melbourne Fringe last year. I’d expect the same for this festival, and many others in the future, in the same way A Young Man Dressed as a Gorilla Dressed as an Old Man Sits Rocking in a Rocking Chair for 56 Minutes and Then Leaves has become a one-night-only underground staple on the circuit for over 15 years.

If you can have an entire audience shouting for an encore after an hour of hearing the same song on repeat, you know you’ve created something special. And no – I’m not telling you what the song is. You’ll have to see it for yourself.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

Phil Wang | Uh Oh
Max Watt’s, until April 19

Phil Wang has gone peak Millennial. He’s grown a moustache, moved to a hipster neighbourhood, filled his home with high-maintenance houseplants, and can’t afford olive oil. But above all, he’s haunted by the same question plaguing every Millennial: Am I cool any more?

To answer that question, the Malaysian-British comedian reveals the inner workings of his psyche. He’s jealous of the body-fat percentage of pigs, for instance, and having an ecstasy pill named after him made him feel relevant again. He’s also currently resisting an autism diagnosis, with eye contact being his best defence.

Wang is like a secret assassin of comedy. He begins with a few stock-standard moustache jokes and hyper-specific UK references that few Aussies will understand. But then he’s suddenly exposing David Bowie as a secret racist, and bursts into a pitch-perfect parody of China Girl. It’s an unexpected turn that elicits cheers from the crowd. By his final punchline, someone in the crowd is puffing on an inhaler. Causing an asthma attack with jokes? If that’s not proof of Wang’s ongoing coolness, I don’t know what is.
★★★★
Reviewed by Nell Geraets

Anisa Nandaula | No Small Talk
Various venues (fortyfivedownstairs, Max Watt’s, Melbourne Town Hall), until April 19

Nandaula was nominated for the festival’s best newcomer award only last year, but you wouldn’t know it. The Ugandan-Australian is so comfortable on stage as to barely acknowledge the conventions of stand-up – instead forging her own style and rhythm.

Despite what it says on the tin, Nandaula begins with several minutes of small talk – with the front, second and third rows. Is this comedy, or a conversation hour? While this and other parts of the set could be tightened, it works as a tactic to buy goodwill with the audience, for spending later.

Almost every part of this show deals with race in one way or another. The craft is in keeping the audience on side and the tone light, without for a moment stooping to cheap laughs. Wicked barbs and unexpected punchlines keep us guessing as we explore workplace dynamics, neighbourly fracas, and holidaying in Kenya. No one is off limits – not even the Masai. One to watch.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Abby Govindan | Pushing 30
The Greek – Apollo, until April 19

Abby Govindan loves being Indian and is unafraid to poke fun and spit truths on the shortcomings that come with it. From the title, Pushing 30 suggests it’s about the pressures of ageing, but as the hour continues, Govindan cleverly and animatedly unpacks her relationship with her identity through searing takes on dating, immigration, women’s rights and intergenerational trauma.

She asks the audience to stick with her as she gets political, deftly connecting societal challenges in America and India back to family anecdotes; she cleverly draws connections between the subjugation of women in India and patriarchal gestures towards her from her grandparents.

Being more discerning about the topics covered could tighten the show so it transitions more easily between the light and serious tone; however, it was enjoyable when she leveraged earlier references for new insights and gags mentioned later on. A comedic and timely response to geopolitics and how they shape personal truths.
★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Sez | Sorry, What?
The Victoria Hotel – Acacia Room, until April 19

Sez comes out screeching. It’s her vocal warm-up, she says. She’s hyped – ready for 45 minutes of telling quirky, relatable and sometimes saucy tales, often through song. “Does the world feel overwhelming?” she asks.

The vibe is mostly joyous, a little outlandish and a smidge contemplative as Sez strums her guitar, plays her omnichord, and regales the room with witticisms and advice for the youth of today (she’s 27). She calls out bullies, talks sharehouses and gives varied shout-outs. Tonight, she’s “feeling a bit Missy Higgins”.

Expressive and engaging, Sez encourages the crowd to sing along, and judging from the response, all are enamoured and up for the fun of it. There’s momentary fumbling when the electric guitar stops working before the sound guy appears from the back to do his thing and she’s back on track. It ends on a catchy, expletive-laden tune, and this reviewer found herself singing the chorus as she exited the basement venue into the streets of Melbourne.
★★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio

Casey Filips | What A Character
Trades Hall – Music Room, until April 19

The character comedian and master of eyebrow waggles is back with his first new show since his critically acclaimed debut Virtuoso – this time, with four disparate sketches bringing together a medley of memorable characters.

Filips first steps out as a surly bouncer, perfectly encapsulating the blend of ill-earned authority and humourlessness endemic to such positions. In another sketch, Filips plays a sound engineer running helter-skelter around the room, recording a succession of audience sounds. His turn as a spy is the least successful of the lot, relying on overused sound and light cues, but he finishes on a high as the lisp-afflicted gatekeeper of purgatory.

No one is immune from the chicanery – not even the last row. Not that this should turn you off; the engagement required is simple and benign. Incredibly quick-witted and adept at improvisation, Filips is at his best when riffing off the audience. Though the at-times-overextended sketches don’t quite scale the heights of his previous show, Filips is always a joy to watch.
★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

The Fairbairns | Fair Dinkum
ACMI-Swinburne Studio, until April 19

At the top of the hour, Lachlan and Jaxon Fairbairn share that they’ve “yet to get through the show without f—ing it up”. The brothers are evidently highly adept at online sketch humour – accruing millions of followers across YouTube, TikTok and Instagram. Fair Dinkum is their first live sketch show. The pair advise the sold-out room that they’re about to do their online stuff “but a bit shitter”.

The introductory quips evoke merriment, but true to their word, several of the ensuing sketches feel wholly shambolic and unpolished. After starting strong, the laughs diminish as the scenes roll out. One minute they’re pilots, the next they’re in a doctor’s room, at NASA, and at a school principal’s office.

They both leave the stage between each sketch, manifesting a clunky, too-long lag every time. There are very basic costume changes while two large screens on stage could be put to better, more imaginative use. The biggest laughs arrive when the pair mess up a line or break character. Maybe that’s their shtick.
★★
Reviewed by Donna Demaio

Mae Da | I Couldn’t Find A Babysitter
Central Club Hotel – Depot Bar, until April 19

Kids run amuck in Mae Da’s kid-friendly show on single parenting as a comedian. Wearing a billowing white dress with red circles marked on her cheeks, Da’s performance mixes traditional stand-up with clowning. Children in the audience participate in largely improvised scenarios; their candidness provides humour.

Da continues to parent while performing; it feels like performance art. Her five-year-old son wanders across the set and she buys his silence with lollies. She’s at her best during skits; the stand-up component could be removed entirely. A bit where children act as doctors as Da pretends to give birth to her son (hidden under her dress) is a highlight.

The overall show feels quite chaotic — just like motherhood. Reducing the segments and incorporating parenting moments as a bridge between acts would improve the concept, though children are unpredictable. While being unstructured feels like the primary aim, it makes it challenging to get into the show. Flitting between formats is discombobulating, making it hard to know what’s part of the show and what’s genuine child-rearing. At times, the children’s interjections seem funnier than Da herself. An exciting premise, where the lines between the artist and mother are blurred.
★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Demi Adejuyigbe | The Wheel
The Greek – Mezzanine, until April 19

Most people know of Demi Adejuyigbe from his increasingly elaborate September 21 videos. It was an annual tradition that he started in 2016 for the titular Earth, Wind & Fire track that at first could have been considered a throwaway TikTok. However, it went on to spawn relentless creativity and raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity (if you’re unaware, start here and move on chronologically – you’ll lose half an hour of your day but it will be completely worth it).

Unfortunately, like many online creators, Adejuyigbe hasn’t translated his comedic prowess to the stage seamlessly. His various song routines (about a coked-up Santa with a bad rock ’n’ roll record deal; various monsters trying to find a house party on Halloween; and pitching a song about Dracula to Netflix) accompanied by cheap animations feel more like watching middling YouTube clips than something ready to be performed to a live audience.

There are highlights. Allowing (and supplying the necessary materials to) an audience member to throw a rotten tomato when a joke doesn’t land is a bold move. A five-minute bit incorporating a robot to tell his jokes is one of the most inventive I’ve seen this festival, and there is an immaculate callback to finish. But much of the show feels unprepared – an act out of an audition for a “woke” James Bond is ruined by the constant reading of his own notes. It’ll need a lot of fine-tuning before I could recommend it. Perhaps in the final week of the festival.
★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

The Age is a Melbourne International Comedy Festival partner.

The Booklist is a weekly newsletter for book lovers from Jason Steger. Get it delivered every Friday.