I went into the latest gig from Sri Lankan-born, Melbourne-based star Dilruk Jayasinha with high hopes. His previous comedy fest show, Victorious Lion, was an endearingly vulnerable insight into single life and his quest for self-improvement that felt generous and wise. Unfortunately, the creeping feeling that this was a very different show set in almost immediately.
Upfront, Jayasinha cautions folks that they should not be fooled by his early, 6.30pm slot at the Forum or his recent good-natured appearance on Celebrity MasterChef. This hour will feature way more swearing. No biggie. Anyone put off by blue language is unlikely to escape the comedy fest unscathed. But within the opening minutes he also drops multiple prison rape ‘jokes’. It’s also deeply weird to hear Jayasinha justify adopting an African accent as the butt of a joke about an airport security guard. Questioned about his carry-on luggage massage gun, Jayasinha feels compelled to blurt out that it is actually a sex toy. He jokes that he workshopped whether it was ok to use the accent with other people of colour and got the all-clear. Good for him, but it’s difficult to discern why he felt the accent was important at all, especially when he goes on to talk about copping it in similar ways. Why perpetuate that stuff without truly unpicking it?
Jayasinha met a new partner via exclusive app Raya during lockdown, and there is a sliver of his self-deprecating humour in a reveal about the after-effects of a hernia getting in the way. But the relentless digs at her family, who hail from Mandurah about an hour’s drive out of Perth, lean into iffily classist jokes about “bogan” country WA folks. It’s a shame, because even as he takes time to praise their welcoming nature, he tackles some of her relatives’ confronting comments about his background. Again, it feels like an important point is muddied.
Littered with lazy and immature stereotypes, the set works the sort of bottom rung blokey stuff espoused by Zoë Coombs Marr’s deliberately odious alter ego Dave in The Opener. Except that her show is an intelligent dissection of those tired and grimace-inducing comedy routines. Disappointingly, there’s not a whiff of that critical analysis here in what, to this reviewer at least, wound up feeling like a demoralising hour of punching down. Jayasinha’s better than this. Here’s hoping he will be again.