Patrick Horan

The inveterately political Tom Ballard has delivered many ‘urgent’ comedy shows in his time, but none more timely than this offering inspired by a referendum that is now just days away. In fact, this show is not entirely about the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice vote but concerns itself more with the strikingly miserable success rate of referenda in Australia.  If you’re as across your constitutional history as this reviewer is (i.e. not at all), it turns out that this country does not like change. Not one bit. A derisory amount of suggested amendments that have been put to the people have succeeded, and if it happens to be a Labor government asking the question, the answer has almost always been: ‘Nah’.  The show’s title does not lie: this is a lecture. A now clichéd criticism of a comedy show that employs multimedia aspects is that it resembles a TED talk. This is not that (I haven’t watched them all, but I don’t think you’re treated to many images of niche erotic acts or animal penises in a TED talk), but it’s not as far away as a comedy fan might hope.  At the risk of offering what sounds like the faintest praise imaginable, Ballard is an excellent user of PowerPoint, as demonstrated in his barnstorming 2021 Comedy Festival show that breathlessly covered the pandemic, Black Lives Matter and climate change in the space of an hour.  This does not have anything like the breakneck pace of that show as Ballard attempts to make some extremely dry government machina

If your show is powered by unashamed exhibitionism and unapologetic silliness, you'd better be all in. Garry Starr is certainly that and, considering how little clothing he wears throughout the course of this show, all out too.  In Greece Lightning, Starr (the stage name of Damien Warren-Smith) runs the gamut of Greek mythology with clowning of the highest order, cerebral enough for those steeped in the stories but entirely accessible to everyone else.  His superpower is his sincerity, delivering aren’t-I-clever wordplay about the classics while flexing a remarkable physique yet somehow keeping the crowd on his side throughout. His vulnerability and inimitable oddness add delight when playing lascivious characters.  It also makes one wonder why he feels the need to employ babytalk and malapropisms while loosely framing the show as his effort to get people to visit ‘Greek’ as it struggles with its "ergonomic progression", a bum note in an otherwise sharply written hour. Wordplay plays a significant role, and Starr has the charm and energy to make even groan-worthy gear worthwhile while also nailing some vaudeville ‘who’s on first?’-type material. The show moves at a cracking pace too, with some sketches blink-and-you’ll-miss-them or entirely - and impressively - physical.   Props are handed out early in the piece and there is quite a bit of audience interaction, but all are relatively gentle and in good fun. If you’re in any way amenable to this type of idiocy you’ll have litt

An underfunded aged care facility might not be the most likely setting for a musical, but renowned comedy writer Tom Gleisner’s first foray into the art form – produced by the Melbourne Theatre Company – manages to find the necessary tonal balance to deliver an exuberant, joyous and thought-provoking experience.We enter Pine Grove alongside Rose (Evelyn Krape), a reluctant new resident, and Finn (Slone Sudiro), a slacker music student who responds to an ad that offers free board in exchange for some ‘light duties’ – aged care qualifications not essential. There they meet put-upon staff members doing their best to give a small group of charmingly dotty residents the care they need despite sub-standard facilities, food and activities that are the direct result of maniacal cost-cutting by the facility’s heartless manager Mrs MacIntyre (Anne Edmonds).It should come as little surprise that the new arrivals shake things up, fomenting rebellion against the facility’s constraints and challenging perceptions while forging a connection of their own. Krape does an excellent job with Rose, imbuing what might have otherwise been a rote elderly ‘free spirit’ character with genuine depth. The character of Finn, on the other hand, is a little thin and despite newcomer Sudiro’s best efforts, rarely feels like he has a life outside the story.This is very much an ensemble piece though, with all characters very intentionally given the chance to shine. One of the key messages that resonates throu

Wordplay is clearly very dear to Dilruk Jayasinha’s heart, so he must have been delighted to discover that his first name translates from Hindi to English as ‘heart-stop’ (even if he’s actually Sri Lankan).Because another thing very close to Jayasinha’s heart is a stent inserted during last year’s festival when an 80 per cent blockage was discovered in one of his arteries, known evocatively as ‘The Widowmaker’. Presumably a terrifying experience, but also a gift for someone who excels at storytelling and Jayasinha relays the tale of how a minor pinch in his arm turned into a near-death experience with no shortage of aplomb.Proceedings begin with a few minutes of crowd work as Jayasinha asks audience members what their names mean, which reaps the former accountant plenty of dividends as he handles the room expertly and deftly weaves the resulting exchanges into later passages of the show. The heart attack yarn unsurprisingly takes up a significant chunk of the remainder, with Jayasinha also riffing on some familiar topics like his overly supportive family and his struggles with weight and dealing with a negative inner voice.Whatever past battles with self-esteem, one thing Jayasinha is not short on these days is confidence, and he does carry over some faux-arrogant flourishes from his early days when they felt a little bit more enjoyably ironic. He also can’t seem to resist a puerile gag or genitalia reference, which mileages may vary on, culminating in an excruciating (in mor

Sometimes you see a comedy festival performance that, despite best intentions and solid material, just fizzes. A performance that reminds you how easy it is to take good stand-up for granted and how vital the mysterious alchemy of energy flowing between performer and audience is for something to be rendered enjoyable. And, unfortunately for the performer, sometimes that particular show is being reviewed.Seann Walsh has travelled a long way from the UK to Trades Hall, and given the energy he brings to the opening minutes appears to have just stepped off a long-haul flight (even though this is the seventh show of his run). Solidarity Hall – a challenging venue with high ceilings and peculiar lighting – needs some warming up, but Walsh’s intermittent and patently ironic references to how "electric" the atmosphere is – given how little effort had been expended on his part to alter the situation – doesn’t quite cut it.Early material is a slow burn, but when it works is of a notably high standard, with Walsh employing some physicality to elevate observations delivered with a lightly misanthropic touch which occasionally brings Dylan Moran to mind. The main theme – which eventually borders on fixation – is Walsh’s resistance to accepting adulthood and parenthood in his late 30s, being relentlessly tired and missing his carefree, drug-fuelled 20s. To transcend a topic that is well-worn and potentially solipsistic requires an exceptional standard. Still, despite flashes of brilliance

Bearded, silver-haired and playing in much smaller rooms than the theatres he performed in for years, you could be forgiven for thinking that the now 52-year-old Dave Hughes is taking stock and wants to return to his club comic roots. Perhaps an unplugged version of his usual livewire act, a gear change from his usual ‘my family are driving me mad!’ schtick, something more nuanced or unguarded perhaps.Not so much. Hughesy is as Hughesy does and this offering will not disappoint or alienate anyone who came for rants about Uber Eats, road works in the CBD or those crazy Covid restrictions. And as low-hanging as such topics might be, Hughes’ finely-tuned ‘angry everyman’ energy rarely fails to deliver decent laughs.Hughes’ gift is being able to make considered and well-structured stories sound like they’re being told for the first time by the funniest bloke down the pub, as well as demonstrating a constant, crippling need for self-validation and seeming baffled when people laugh at this. Wanting to be recognised by everyone you meet is a deeply weird ambition to share - jokingly or not - but Hughes does a remarkable job of occupying a liminal space between household-name celebrity and relatable normality. For example, his alleged horror when nobody in his crowd admits to watching The Masked Singer (easily the best moment of the show) is quickly followed by him slagging it off and getting in on the joke with everyone else.Some early material on the recent deaths of his pets (whi

Having been described in his promotional material as a “dark”, “edgy” comic, it feels slightly incongruous to see Michael Shafar bound on stage and make friends with almost the entire audience off the top. Nothing in the rule book to say you can’t be affable and still flirt with crossing the line of political correctness, of course, so we wait to see what topics Shafar will dare to tackle that will presumably have a woke Melbourne crowd squirming in its seats.  We’re still waiting. The affable Shafar deals in run-of-the-mill observational gear on topics like enjoying a quieter life as he gets older alongside some galaxy brain thought bubbles like how we should allow drunk women to drive themselves home as it’s the statistically safest option or how questionable the term ‘person of colour’ is when you really think about it.The success of these gambits varies – not helped by tortured logic, unlikely set-ups or punchlines that can be seen coming from a suburb away – and as much as some of the material yearns to be controversial, it’s hard to recall a truly shocking idea or moment of genuine tension that you might reasonably expect from an alleged edgelord. A bit about how evil the queen must have been based on an innocuous fact is well delivered and gets one of the night’s biggest responses, but it’s tough to get past the flimsiness of the premise.One hopes Shafar can relax a little and play to his strengths. He’s at his best when engaging the audience directly, referencing some

Melbourne, is it possible that we might be taking Tom Ballard for granted? He is a comedy scene mainstay bordering on veteran – given how much he has packed into his prodigious career, it is mildly astonishing that he is 33 – the attendance at his show tonight is perfectly respectable but frankly disproportionate to the quality on display.Anyone assuming they would be in for a variation on a political rant they’ve seen before might be pleasantly surprised by the more personal nature of this show, noting that the ever-righteously indignant Ballard does not spare the horses (quite literally at one point) when taking aim at his bête noires.He mines some excellent material from the underwhelming impact of his stand-up special (tragically available on Paramount+) and his recent book (which inspires some masterful interaction with the sole member of the crowd who bought it) as well as society’s apparent determination to regress to 2002 while simultaneously going all in on AI.Meanwhile, an extended routine on Australia’s ‘out of sight, out of mind’ approach to aged care builds to a dark and delirious crescendo that provides a litmus test for who in the room is fully on board for Ballard’s strafing, unsparing approach. His thoughts on the late George Pell, Rupert Murdoch and Australia’s (ahem) biggest billionaires will not surprise anyone familiar with his previous work, with the only question being how far he’ll go (spoiler alert: far out, pretty far).The most consistent target thro

Guy Montgomery is as shocked as anyone to realise he’s considered a man now. But despite being a 34-year-old stepdad, he hasn’t lost any of the boyishly oddball charm that has powered his ascent from cult favourite to minor TV stardom in this part of the world.Montgomery’s trade is off-kilter observational gear heightened by strange and sometimes daringly surreal flourishes. It’s a method that leans heavily on his affable weirdo effect, and he generally does a remarkable job of bringing an audience onto his undeniably unique wavelength.Off the top, he tests the waters with a little deconstruction of the stand-up show ritual before some exceptional riffs on well-worn topics like advertising and not being good at parties; the dexterity with which he juggles (and sometimes blends) the personas of baffled everyman and a buffoon entirely lacking in self-awareness is quite remarkable.The show continues with straightforward musings and personal experiences alongside more bizarre stoner-ish thought experiments. Given his inimitable perspective and the degree of difficulty he sets for himself, it’s perhaps inevitable that not everyone gets on board for all the rides. Montgomery does have an unfortunate habit of refusing to shut a yarn down before it has overstayed its welcome (even he cheerfully admits a routine about business-fish goes on too long).But when he does hit, the results are spectacular. A restaurant’s somewhat ambitious mantra to redefine what it means to eat gets what it