Christian Hull is the ultimate comic for the age of the gig-economy. He’s conquered cyberspace via every conceivable portal from TikTok to old skool YouTube; he’s charmed the literati with his memoir, Leave Me Alone, which was nominated last year for Booktopia’s Favourite Australian Book of the Year award; he helms a wildly successful podcast, Complete Drivel; and perhaps more than any other comedian out there, he’s a master of merch, flogging scandalising swag from dick-shaped soaps to offensive doormats. But does all that multifaceted success actually make him a good comedian?
For stand-up purists, the answer might be no. There’s nothing particularly groundbreaking about Hull’s sense of humour. Indeed, with a portfolio as sweepingly broad as his, it’s little surprise that much of his schtick plumbs for common denominators so low, they’re virtually subterranean. Is he the first stand-up to make fun of his own weight? No. Is he the first gay comic to gass endlessly about cocks? No. Is he breaking new comedic ground by spending a good third of his show talking about shitting himself? Absolutely not.
But what his comedy lacks in originality, it more than makes up for with the megawattage of his personality. There is a reason that Hull has managed to win hearts and minds across so many disparate media: he is profoundly, irresistibly, undeniably likeable – and channels an innately funny energy that many a stand-up would kill to possess.
This was on full display during the show I attended, which happened to also feature an Auslan interpreter. Hull’s playful repartee with his unwitting comedy sidekick on the hilarious freeform acid jazz sign language required to communicate his gags – if you’re wondering, ‘jizz on your face’ is exactly the hand gesture you’re probably imagining right now – was a masterclass in ad libbing, to the point that it frankly overshadowed his written material. Those in search of pioneering comedy should probably give Hull’s show a pass, but for the rest of us who just want to have a great time in the company of someone who’s very bloody funny, we suggest you roll right up.
