Friday Five: Comedy Festival

About a month ago Canberra had a comedy festival. It's sort of a warm-up for the Melbourne Comedy Festival, which is bigger and has more acts. But I like this one as it is fairly low key and the laughs seem more heart felt.

5 Comedy Acts at the Festival:

1. Oedipus Schmoedipus - Canberra Theatre Centre
Although not strictly part of the Comedy Festival, I feel that Oedipus Schmoedipus belongs here. Written by post (Zoe Coombs Marr, Mish Grigor and Natalie Rose), the premise is to look at death on stage, and there has been an awful lot of it over the years. From the drama of the Greeks to the tragedies of the bard, people have been theatrically dispatched in a myriad of ways. Performers Mish Grigor and Shelly Lauman take us on a quick trip through death's door, and include 25 local volunteers (who have rehearsed for a few hours and are different for each performance) to portray the profound and sometimes ridiculous shufflings off this mortal coil. Most of these dramatic deaths have been written by men, but this female duo introduces the notion that men do not hold a monopoly on the moribund. 'The great whites' tell us that death is a lot of things (an island; nothing; an open door; an illusion; a lonely business; a friend; welcome), but who knew it was fun too?
2. Rich Hall - The Street Theatre
One of the funniest Americans around, he's as baffled by the antipodean tendency to go barefoot in public indoor spaces as I am. His drôle delivery lampoons everything and everyone, including himself. Witty without being acerbic, he seems to find the world a laughable place, which is comforting in the face in current global politics. He does riff on the US Healthcare system and gun laws, but he also talks about long-term relationships and new babies. With his hat and guitar he resembles the poetic side of Bob Dylan, but he doesn't take himself nearly as seriously. Rich Hall's improvised songs based on audience conversations are less about the great social inequalities and injustices of life and more about picking up girls or stepping on pieces of Lego.
3. Sh*t-Faced Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet - The Street Theatre
Imagine a Shakespeare play (in this instance Romeo and Juliet) acted with sharp wit and deep understanding of the text. Then imagine one of the actors is inebriated. Yes, they will forget their lines; yes, they will skip ahead and back in the script leaving the other actors bewildered and desperately trying to catch up and/or fill in the blanks; yes, they will change the plot lines entirely with a complete disregard for the character arcs and structure; and yes they will milk certain parts and reduce others to mere footnotes. If they are as entertaining and inspired as this lot, however, the improvisation will be excellent. It's basically the difference between knowing they're shit, and knowing their shit. Clever and funny i'faith; verily 'twas most amusing. ,

4. Stephen K Amos, Bread and Circuses - Canberra Theatre Centre
Stephen K Amos is a wise and funny man. Whether he is launching into established routines or trying out new material to see how it is received, he is always alert to the nuances of the audience. Of course we all see the world as it filtered through our own perspective of privilege or diversity. While he is keenly aware of racist and homophobic bias, he occasionally strayed into stereotypical casual sexism territory, which was a little disappointing. He recovers well because he is confident and charming and knows how to command the stage, but he did appear a little tired, as if this isn't his best work and he knows it.
5. Ross Noble, El Hablador - Canberra Theatre Centre
What an incredible mind this man has: bewildering; bonkers and brilliant. I could listen to him all night, which is fortunate, because he artfully rambles his way through a couple of hours of stand-up. Tangents are Ross Noble's friend, but although he appears shambolic in his breakneck delivery and chaotic appearance, he is anything but. Every loose end becomes a loop as he returns to the subject with peripatetic aplomb. It's always hard to know whether the the ad-libs really are off-the-cuff, but they are certainly head and shoulders above most comedy. What the name of the tour and the Mexican Day of the Dead inspired inflatable set has to do with the material itself, I couldn't tell you, but I was laughing too much to care - and isn't that the point of comedy?

Poles apart but on the same wavelength

In the last week I saw an Australian and a Scottish comedian. Although from different hemispheres and as far away from each other as it is geographically possible to be, they were both very funny. I'm taking this as proof that humour is universal.

I like a good laugh, and I really don't care where it comes from. Of course, we are more likely to laugh at things we recognise and can identify with. Perhaps we are not so different after-all. Perhaps there is a shared comedy gene buried in our history and culture? Perhaps it's just because they both have a love/hate relationship with the English?

Mickey D: Too Mickey, Bro!
San Francisco Bath House, 19-23 May

The premise of Mickey D’s act is that we should be able to laugh at anything and everything – I bet he doesn’t go down well in Afghanistan. Or Germany for that matter. Some of his material even seemed a little close to the bone for politically-correct-sensitive-souls-we-all-work-for-the-Government Wellington and there were some sharp intakes of breath at the Bathhouse.

Fortunately, these were matched by the splutterings of laughter that can’t be held back because it’s just funny. Laughing may be a sign of weakness in his native Australia, but it’s good for the heart and soul. He’s good at mocking Australians and their characteristics – partly pigeon but mostly lizard – which works well with his audience.

Aussie men and women are equally ridiculed, and his heckling father and extended family are not above being sacrificed for the sake of a good laugh. The differences between Aussies and Kiwis are illuminated through a few set scenes such as parties and tourism activities. As he says, Australians are just too Lleyton Hewitt for their own good.

Once he has the audience on side, he throws in a few more risqué gags; what not to say during sex, and some material about children with disabilities that has a few people looking anxious. He promises us that it’ll get funny in a minute and it does. There is a serious side to his comedy but then comedy and tragedy are the two-faced gods of drama and Mickey D is far too bright not to know this.

Danny Bhoy
The Opera House, 21-23 May

I may be ever so slightly in love with Danny Bhoy – there, I’ve said it. He’s charming, intelligent, funny, good-looking, self-deprecating, and master of a fabulously lilting accent. ‘Bastard’ said my husband, but then he was laughing too. Danny Bhoy is simply impossible not to like.

His material is not exactly cutting edge. He talks about staying in hotels, trying to chat up girls (I refuse to believe he has any problem with that), making woefully bad first impressions, and trying to enunciate when drunk. It’s stuff we could all talk about, although nowhere near so well.

He holds his audience in the palm of his hand, knowing exactly when to press on and when to back off. He’s observational and conversational, and you could listen to him talk all night. Even though he’s been touring for the past four moths, I reckon he could do it too. Even the ‘hit and run hecklers’ couldn’t phase him, although I can only imagine what he will say about New Zealand when he gets back home.

He’s a bit hard on the Kiwi accent which isn’t entirely fair – we can’t all sound Scottish – but he’s aware that his imitation is poor. He’s not a mimic but he is a raconteur in the old classic style. He’ll be telling a story when he just shoots off on a tangent before coming back to the place he started and spinning us up in his intricate web. I’ll bet the long winter nights just fly by.

Carry on laughing

Well, I went to the beginning of the Comedy Festival and had First Laughs, and I have had many laughs since then. For a review of four of the shows I've seen, you can read my review on the Lumiere website.

Two of the big names were Steve Coogan and Dylan Moran - both whom I was keen to see.

Steve Coogan was good, performing a range of his characters including Paul and Pauline Calf, Tony Ferrino (singing sensation of Latin extraction) and, of course, Alan Partridge. As with Beau Tyler, his skit was based on a self-improvement scheme: it seems it's the new comedy.

My favourite bit was the music hall style number at the end which, with it's jaunty chorus - 'Everyone's a bit of a c*&t sometimes' - and cheeky chappy delivery, had a very Monty Python feel to it.

Steve Coogan is a slick and polished professional with perfect pitch and timing. He's got a great voice too and is an excellent performer and entertainer. However, on the basis of this show, I'm not sure that he is a stand-up comedian as much as an actor and raconteur.

Dylan Moran was absolutely excellent. He pretends to be shambolic, rambling and disorganised, but he is so very keen and sharp and I love his material. He probably does have existentialist intense arguments with himself in the pub after one too many red wines.

He was drinking on stage and I'm pretty sure it wasn't put on. I would have to say he's one of the best comics I've ever seen live (along with Jack Dee, my second favourite grumpy old git) - he seems genuinely bemused and amused by life.