Sadly it’s all too common for comedy to mask the tears of a clown. First Nations legend and self-crowned “Faboriginal” Steven Oliver reveals, in his remarkably candid and deeply generous Comedy Festival debut, that it’s a phenomenon he’s had to navigate. The ABC sketch show Black Comedy brought his witty gift for writing and delivering snappy comebacks – a la “what’s this then, slut?” – to a national audience, but he also struggled with the fame that came in its wake. Indeed, he even got asked to say something funny while at a family wake.
That aside is a jaw-dropper in what is a remarkably joyous show, despite Oliver touching on the depression, tragic losses, homophobia and racism both casual and not-so-casual he has faced along the way while carving an out and proud career. Prepare for a lot of butt-shaking and attendant anally fixated jokes in a queer celebration of the guiding credo that Black is beautiful. There are also incredibly tender moments, notably when he shares a beautiful memory about coming out to his mum the old-fashioned snail mail way.
Rocking tuxedo pants and a scarlet velvet blazer, Oliver is a cabaret star with a gift for self-penned rapid-fire rap and show tune croons, plus smooth moves including a tap dance breakout moment. Playing guitar and the maracas, he’s a showman through and through who somehow manages to make the vast space of the Malthouse’s Merlyn theatre feel like an intimate lounge, with Michael Griffiths, artistic director of the Perth International Cabaret Festival, accompanying him on piano. You get the sense they are tight, both as best buds and performers. They certainly work magic together in a powerful hour that deftly leaps from darkness to light and back again. It all adds up to something extraordinary.
