MICF: The final weekend

With three nights left of the comedy festival, it's time for the die hards to see five shows a night and collapse at 3am in a pool of sweat and vomit in the festival club.

So, I joined a lot of other 40-somethings at a nice civilised 6.00 pm show, grabbed a late-night 7.15 and was a bit too happy to be home by 9.00. Yep, I'm hard core, I might even make a mug of hot chocolate.

There are only two shows left of these, and there's 25 minutes between the end of Tim's and the beginning of Kate's – which makes for an awesome (and early starting) double.

Homeward Bound
Kate McLennan
20 April 2012
Victoria Hotel
to 22 April
comedyfestival.com.au

I don't think it's possible to see Kate McLennan on stage and not adore her. She's one of the funniest people around and her honest writing proves that the difference between good writing and great writing is how much it comes from the heart.

This style of stand up is different from the character-based comedy seen in earlier festivals, but terrific writers make their lives far more interesting than fiction.

A while back, Kate's was in a relationship; they'd bought Global knives together, so it was serious. But it ended. Being a performer meant that Kate moved back to Geelong with her parents, but how could her broken heart compare to her dad's prostRate cancer and her younger sister's upcoming wedding?

Naturally on her first day back in her teenage bedroom, with her raw heart was pumping pain, her sister took her to a bridal expo, which isn't as painful as the advice from her extended family about how to deal with being 31 and on the shelf.

Using the gorgeous device of letters to her baby niece (nieces and nephews really are brilliant), Kate brings us her family with hilarious observation that's sharper than a Global knife with a love that's its own lifetime guarantee.

PS. Kate, I've never been a bridesmaid!

Carry a Big Stick
Tim Ferguson 
20 April 2012
Melbourne Town Hall
to 22 April
comedyfestival.com.au

Tim and I are happy to disagree about the role of review and feedback in live performance, but all I need to say is that it was bloody lovely to sit in a room full of people who remember the 80s and the Doug Anthony Allstars juggernaut.

I first say the DAAS in the mid-ish 80s at a drunken lunch time at Adelaide Uni bar (oh how tertiary education had changed). I can't think of anyone who could own a crowd like that now. By the time they were at the 1988 Adelaide Fringe, they were in the biggest rooms and playing the Fringe club late at night. There hadn't been anything like them before. In their ripped military uniforms, they were loud, crude and treated their audience with the kind of disrespect that we wanted more of.

And more we got. Tim, Paul and Richard went on to own the biggest festivals, to fill stadiums and created cult TV with The Big Gig. I adored them, my friends adored them and everyone we knew couldn't get enough of them and we haven't seen comedy rock gods like them since.

Carry a Big Stick is Tim (the tall one) telling his story about this time and what happened after they broke up and why he wishes everyone would stop asking about his MS. If you were a DAAS fan, you don't need the likes of me to tell you that you'll love this hour with Tim.

The last two shows are pretty close to being sold out, but don't let that stop you from trying to get in.

PS. I'm now back in tertiary education and Tim is one of my teachers.

MICF review: ... Plus One

MICF 2012
... Plus One
Mike McLeish and Fiona Harris
7 April 2012
Trades Hall
to 22 April
comedyfestival.com.au

... Plus One had me at Hootie & The Blowfish and a navy-blue sleeveless floral wrap top with a subtle frill. Hilariously nostalgic and as zeitgeist capturing as a Facebook Instagram album of mock-polaroids of zeitgeists, its interwoven story of old uni friends in their late 30s, original music and terrific performances makes it like The Big Chill for our generation, but much funnier – and no one lost their junk at war.

Fiona Harris (Skithouse, The Librarians, The Circle etc) and Mike McLeish (Keating, Shane Warne: the Musical etc) play six friends who met at uni in the 90s. This was a time when university still meant being in a nearly-popular band, share houses, unrequited love, plenty of sex, and drinking 'til you spewed.

Fast forward to now. There's a mummy blog, rewarding husbands with TV box sets, smart phone addiction, unrequited love, occasional sex, and vegan or goats cheese hors d'oeuvres at an installation opening. And as one friend wants to celebrate their bonds in art and a song (which deserves its own category at the ARIAs), others wonder if there's anything left to drink to.

As Harris and McLeish (yes, the are real-life spouses) morph between characters, it's easy to forget that there can't be a scene with all six, but smart complex writing and tight direction (Kate McLennan) ensure that there's no disappointment. Melding the observation of stand up, the speed-joke of sketch and the satisfying arc of story, each character is instantly recognisable and if there isn't one who's a bit too close for comfort, you'll recognise your parents or your adult children.

 ... Plus One is a brilliant excuse to get together with some of your old friends, especially if you've only seen them on Facebook in the last few years. It left me snorting-out-loud and looking forward to the next round of nostalgia fashion: 90s floral.

MICF review: Candy B

MICF 2012
Candy B, Australian Booty: The Fatty-Boom-Boom Remix
11 April 2012
Red Bennies
to 15 April
comedyfestival.com.au

Attendance at a Candy B's Australian Booty: The Fatty-Boom-Boom Remix show should be compulsory, as it's impossible to leave without feeling damn hot and wanting to shake your booty all over town.

Ok, so the chances of me shaking my booty are slim (I am an uptight white chick who can't dance and knows that she can never say "You go girl"), but that's the only thing about me that has ever been slim and I'm standing with Candy and her gorgeous musical director and sister Busty Beatz to reclaim the sexiness of fatty boom boom.

From the moment Candy struts onto the stage in her "sexy-arse, body-hugging red dress", she own the room and the hearts of everyone in the audience – and most of their libidos.

Starting with a story about buying the dress, this show's about owning and loving who and what you are, and refusing to wear ridiculous floral tents. Being "Blasian" (she's from Dandenong with a South African, Chinese and Malaysian background), she's also faced racial crap and lets us delight in her shaming those who delivered it, and there's a wonderful bit about various communities trying to claim her when she first gained media attention.

Candy and I have many things in common – I also fancy gingers, wear clothes that emphasise my breasts and dream about endless dessert buffets – but I didn't grow up listening to the angry politics of Hip Hop and the casual misogyny of rap.  My teen music was Rick Astley, Split Enz and The Human League and that the first political song I bought was "Do They Know It's Christmas". Candy B is Hip Hop and, for us who still don't know that "phat" is cool, she translates some Snoop Dog lyrics. Yep, there's plenty of room for change in some of those attitudes and it's amazing folk like Candy B, Busty Beatz and the Massive Hip Hop Choir (who opened the night) who are leading the way and reclaiming the phat beatz as their own. 

Candy B is drop-dead gorgeous, jaw-aching funny and proves that we can and will remix attitudes.  The only way the night could be better is if there were a koeksister stall downstairs. (It's a South African doughnut deep fried and served in syrup.)

PS: As a 70s child, I had a black Barbie. She was generic not-Barbie who still had long straight hair, and I love that it never occurred to me that she should date my golliwog. 

This appeared on AussieTheatre.com

MICF review: The Goodbye Guy

MICF 2012
The Goodbye Guy
Justin Hamilton
27 March 2012
The Toff
But the show's on at The Victoria Hotel
to 21 April
comedyfestival.com.au

Thank gods that fraking Hammo is finally giving up standup.

Justin Hamilton has been doing shows for eighteen years and The Goodbye Guy is his farewell to the standup stage (for the immediate future anyway). I'm thrilled.

OK, so he's become one of the best around with a stage persona so affable that he can be filthy and he make observations so sharp that it's best to check for bleeding.  He's one of the few men who can say cunt and make me want to hug him, he lets me feel cool for loving Dr Who, understands why I fancy David Bowie, and lets me feel OK about having not really grown up and about spending too much time in the TV section of Amazon.

But every time I see one of his shows show, I want him to get off the stage and start writing more. Yesterday I read his blog and said to the screen that I want him to write a book – and a TV series and more theatre shows like his wonderful Goodbye Ruby Tuesday. When he opens this Goodbye saying that he wanted to be an author since he was seven but became comedian ... well maybe my fantasy about Hamilton the writer isn't so selfish.

You can't not love the gorgeous laughing comedy audiences, but I want Justin to reach the millions of people who are going to love his writing. Stand up has given him a remarkable understanding of story and character and he knows that you reach hearts by making people laugh, but it's almost impossible to write a lot when you spend most nights making people laugh.

Which takes me back to the The Goodbye Guy. This is a show about grief: heart-breaking, unfair, fuck-you-life grief. And it's damn funny.


Great comedy isn't jokes.  Pull a Xmas cracker if all you want is a joke. Finding laughs is what gets us through the dullness or unexpected hell of life. Comedy lightens the load and gives us the breathing space to cope. The best cancer jokes are from people who know they are going to die from it.


This is very personal piece about loss, but it's never self-indugent and his writing lets us find the moments when we know exactly how he feels because we've been there too – even if we haven't actually woken up in black face.

He talks about being comfortable in misery. It is so easy to do something we're good at and enjoy rather than take the terrifying leap to see if there's something we're meant to do. Justin Hamilton is exceptionally good at stand up and he loves what he does, but I'm certain that his best work is in front of him.

In the meantime, you've been well and truly warned. This may be your last chance to see a Hammo stand up show. Don't risk waiting for a comeback. The Goodbye Guy is a perfect coda to his standup career and an introduction to his writing that's going to leave you wanting more.

PS: For a more smutty night and awesome special guests, Justin and Adam Richard host The Shelf on Monday nights at the Toff during the festival.

PPS: And there's his podcast

MICF review: Dixie's Tupperware Party

Dixie's Tupperware Party
MICF
30 March 2012
The Famous Spiegeltent
to 22 April
comedyfestival.com.au

Why did the walrus go to a Tupperware party?
He wanted to find a tight seal.

This is the only Tupperware joke I knew before a night with the outrageously wonderful Dixie Longate selling me plastic crap. I'm most proud of myself for getting out without buying anything because I love colourful, air-tight seals that keep the moths and or keep celery crunchy for weeks and Dixie's Tupperware Party is a Tupperware party.

Yes, one of those things where housewife-types make devilled eggs and fruit punch and hope that their friends will buy enough plastic crap so they can send their kids to camp and buy lots of shoes. Never been to one? Really? You must and Dixie's is a damn good one to start with.

Dixie lives in a trailer park, has three kids and three dead husbands. Her first Tupperware candy bowl was a gift that still shines like crystal and may bring a tear to your eye by the end of the night. She needed a way out (of jail) and found her role model in Brownie Wise, the woman who realised that women can sell to each other and have fun and she held the first Tupperware party over 60 years ago.

As the home page of the Tupperware site says: "For over 60 years Tupperware Brands has made a difference in the lives of women around the world by offering an independent business opportunity." And they do. Within a year Dixie was the top selling Tupperware seller in the USA. Who ever said drag performers won't earn a living, didn't factor in the power of charm, sass and innuendo. If you're not sure, Dixie is frocked and tucked.

Dixie's Tupperware Party is a tribute to every woman who has ever earned money by selling Tupperware and a ever-fresh night of high-camp, low-class fun that'll leave you singing about rimming. Stop sniggering, you close a Tupperware bowl by rimming it.

Take neighbours, nannas, husbands and anyone who has ever rolled their eyes when you mention the T word.

PS. If anyone wants to buy me a present, I have the celery keeper, but I love the Crystal Wave containers that go from freezer to microwave.

This review was on AussieTheatre.com

MICF review: Hannah Gadsby

Hannah Gadsby Wants a Wife
30 March 2012
Victoria Hotel
to 22 April
comedyfestival.com.au

How many woman are going to head to Hannah Gadsby Wants a Wife hoping that it's a reality show with a snogging contest for the potential brides? But, of course, that's just silly. A woman can't marry a woman in this country.

The internet doesn't need another rant about equality. There's no logic, decency, compassion or common sense in any argument against same-sex marriage.  And, as Hannah says, if she could marry the chick she loves, it'd make it harder for her lover to leave.

No one seeing her show disagrees (and it'll be full every night of the festival), so perhaps we need a campaign to get the "moral majority" away from the suburbs and their huge-screen tvs and Herald Scum editorials and into some comedy shows.

Things to sell them on Hannah: she uses naughty words (including the very naughty one that women aren't meant to like – but we do); there's discussion about Victorian (the time, not our state) morality; and there are naked ladies.

Just don't mention that the nudes are in painting, that Art – capital A art – is discussed and that they may finally realise that fancying people who share your gender has nothing to do with gender inversion. Lesbians are not dudes.

Hannah Gadsby had me from the moment I saw her on telly showing where she was from on her map of Tasmania. She's the most delightful thing on the ABC (lovely Adam Hills, we want more of Hannah on Gordon Street) but she's so much more gorgeous, smart and funny in the flesh. This is stand up with the kind of heart and guts that gives hope that we really are heading in the right direction, and will get there faster once we're over the prejudicial bumps.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

MICF review: Geraldine Hickey

MICF 2012

Turns Out I Do Like Sun Dried Tomatoes

Geraldine Hickey

29 March 2012

Portland Hotel

to 22 April

comedyfestival.com.au

I saw Geraldine Hickey in a Fringe show in 2009 and I'm finally seeing her standup. Yay. Gorgeous, filthy and deliciously satisfying, Turns Out I Do Like Sun Dried Tomatoes celebrates the realisation that being yourself really beats trying to fit in.

Geraldine loves (really, really loves) crocodiles, thinks John Masden writes brilliant books and has short neatly trimmed finger nails. I have three pairs of Crocs (that I really love; yes, really), read Marsden's Tomorrow series in my late 30s and have long finger nails painted in glitter that chips off. One of us is celebrating coming out.

This Comedy Festival, Geraldine looks back over her life and wonders why she didn't see the signs. Well she did, but there was a bit of in and out (and a bit of in and out) in the meantime. 

Confusing her bogan tendencies with being a lesbian, growing up in conservative Liberal-voting country Victoria, and dealing with her Christian faith and the ridiculous tenets of Catholicism didn't help. She thought that the hating of skirts, the Melissa Etheridge posters and her passion for cricket should have made her realise, but then even her loving having sex with women didn't do it.

Fortunately for her (and I'm sure some very lucky women), that's all changed and, even if her mum might give the show a miss, we'll all celebrate with her and keep fighting until she can have a caravan park wedding just like her sister's.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

MICF review: Tina C

MICF 2012

Tina C: Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

Malthouse, Christopher Green, Julia Holt, MICF

22 March 2012

Beckett Theatre

to 14 April

An Englishman dresses an American woman to present a lecture-cum-corroboree-cum-sing-a-long to white middle class theatre goers.  She doesn't understand that we celebrate the battles we lost, but she knows that Mabo isn'a a dance and thinks it's time she explained Indigenous reconciliation to us. With so many levels of wrong, Tina C may well be the most right thing in town

Melbourne met Tina C in the Speigeltent in 2006 and welcomes her back with open everything. Tina C: Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word is created by the UK's Christopher Green (who we've also seen in Finucane and Smith's Salon De Dance),  but I still have trouble accepting that Tina's not from North America's south.

Gal singer superstar (in her head) Tina loves the soft power of middle-of-the-road country pop, so naturally found an affinity with some of Australia's best country singers and musicians, like Jimmy Little and Bob Randell, and even with the rock of Yothu Yindi. Following Kate Bush's dance steps (remember The Dreaming album), she knows that pretty singers with awesome legs can change the world, and while Rolf Harris played with Kate, Tina is joined by musican James Henry (Deadly Award nominee) and her almost-twin singer Auriel Andrew (Deadly Lifetime Achievement Award winner and a 2011 OAM).

As Andrew sings Randell's "Brown Skin Baby" and tells her own story, Tina rightly cannot understand why our little nation hasn't grasped that white folk are the original boat people. She doesn't care about increasing our white-middle-class guilt; she just wants us to see the bleeding obvious.

Many an academic and drunken dinner party conversation has offered reasons for our blocks in logic, but Tina wonders is it's because Australian Indigenous art isn't easy-to-wear jewellery (like that lovely turquoise Native American stuff) or because they don't make delicious snacks we can buy in specialist delis.

She may have a point. I'm wearing earrings from Indonesia and a scarf from Vietnam as I snack on falafel. Yep, us white folk love indigenous accessories and foreign snacks. So perhaps it's time to follow Tina's example. After all, she wears dot-print hot pants and a knock-off Acubra with as much class as Dame Edna wears sequins.

I can start with my dot-painting handbag.  It was a gift and, even though I love a colourful accessory, it stayed in my cupboard as I was unsure if it's an offensive and condescending appropriation of ancient art or a celebratory integration of culture. Thanks to Tina, it'll be on my arm this week in celebration. I wonder if I can find matching hot pants...

This is the genius of Tina C. Her arguments are so naively off that she unbalances logic and makes us look at something we think we understand from a new angle. There's room for more of Tina's story and a stronger narrative in the show, but nothing can take away from her sparklie heart and the sharp intelligence of her creator.

Phtoto by Lachlan Woods

Appeared on AussieTheatre.com