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Fringe is over, but as we all know (say it with me), "Comedy Doesn't Finish When The Fringe Does!" Let's take a walk down memory lane with Steve Jones and have a look at some of the comedy shows that happened here in Adelaide's own back yard. Some of these shows are still happening at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, but for most, this is all nostalgia.
Fringe was a great time, wasn't it?
Dave Callan: A Little Less Conversation
Rhino Room
Creating a time warp that takes us way back to the Stone Age, Dave Callan presents not so much vocally, but full on physically his take on the history of viral dance crazes.
Delivering a series of seamless dance montages from throughout the ages and in particular, the twentieth century onwards to the present day, Callan, together with two “real” dancers, Claire Nica and Mel Bruce, maintain an incredibly high level of energy as they visually move from the Can Can to the Big Band era and right up to, you guessed it, Gangnam Style. That’s not without passing by rock and roll, punk, disco and every other phase that’s come and gone in the meantime including bootscooting and pole.
Despite it being exhausting just watching him, Callan will have you both in stitches and in the mood for dancing with a soundtrack consisting of everything from ABBA to Zorba the Greek. He also hilariously demonstrates with remarkable agility (given his towering stature and unkempt hair and beard) booty shaking moves from Beyoncé and knee-rattling, finger-pointing antics from the 80’s hit movie ‘Flashdance’.
Explaining the origins and etiquette of moonwalking to pelvic thrusts, not forgetting burlesque and boy bands, every style is covered and energetically demonstrated to present a sidesplitting hour of great physical comedy.
Celia Pacquola: Delayed
Rhino Room
When a show opens with lively dancing, complete with suggestive hip thrusts and very unattractive thumb juts this could be because the performer in front of you is unashamedly very happy, or that she has begun to question her lot in life at this very moment.
With Celia Pacquola it seems there’s an equal balance of both as she tells of making that big move from Melbourne to London to pursue her comedy career, thus embarking on a long distance relationship with the boyfriend she’s left behind. Sure, career-wise she’s brave enough to take that step, but being the staunch non-romantic she claims to be, can she maintain that charade for the next two years they’re apart?
Pacquola is a naturally gifted and very funny storyteller, and a downright, down-to-earth Australian one at that. Her style on stage is not much different to that seen at a dinner party between friends. She’s upfront and personable and not afraid to put herself down, or, at times even show some vulnerability. One can’t help but think there’s an undercurrent of denial there, an emotion she cleverly conceals beneath all the quick stepped actions and goofiness that accompanies her words.
While candlelit cybersex over Skype may seem a ridiculous notion to her, one suspects that the temptation to try it was always there. And even when joined by her estranged beau in Paris for a short catch up, the competitive side of her overrides any opportunity for romance.
This show is as poignant as it is fun. See it now so you too can say, “I saw Celia Pacquola back when she…”.
Dave Bloustien: Grand Guignol
Gluttony – The Piglet
Naming his show after an old Parisian theatre that specialised in horror, Dave Bloustien returns to Adelaide this year with Grand Guignol where he puts on different voices, dons a series of hats and gets to play with puppets, both shadow and hand. Hansel and Gretel are lost in the woods and upon meeting a shadowy figure they’ve been told that the only way out is to survive the telling of three tales of terror.
Much like those old TV shows where there’s a creepy narrator, Bloustien begins with the story of how ancient Egyptian prince, Tutankhamen’s legendary missing penis was found and bought in an op shop. Moving on to more recent times and back in our capital city of Canberra, next we hear of how the Australian Labor Party met at a series of backyard barbecues to decide who should lead them to the next election, adding a sinister new twist to the term “Faceless Men”.
Closing this night with a short story on the origin of a certain blend of coffee, Bloustien’s main strength is that he’s not only an intelligent writer, he can spin a good yarn as well provided you are willing to take the interest to listen. Bloustien does however have the spontaneous nous to prevent his shows from becoming too self indulgent, breaking character every now and then to either amicably address an audience member or follow an ad hoc tangent.
A former writer for ABC’s ‘The Glass House’ and Ten’s, ‘Good News Week’, Bloustien sure does have the right credentials. Now all he needs is a greater following. Get onboard now.
And I don’t mean a harbour cruise ship either, for that’s an entirely different horror story.
Marcel Lucont: Gallic Symbol
The Tuxedo Cat
Not wanting to be one to blow his cover, but Marcel Lucont is actually not French, therefore that’s not his real name.
Just the mere pronunciation of the character’s surname, especially when said with a French accent [Loo-cont], is enough to conjure up notions that Alexis Dubus is more than ready to, through mere use of simple double entendre, parody a culture possibly less than deserving of an Englishman’s wrath of stereotypical satire.
As it is, the English are not liked by their cross Channel neighbours and visa-versa. Standing before us, Lucont immediately lays claim to being better than us. And not just women either – all of us.
For despite all his heavy laid misogynistic womanising, Marcel Lucont still gets his full share of female attention wherever he goes. This, Dubus constantly reminds us of, with all the subtle typecast mannerisms that one can arrogantly get away with. Alternating the occasional sex-based song or poem between his direct sneer-laced interaction with his audience, Dubus becomes Lucont to the letter. A French letter, if one may.
And later, when he cleverly turns the tables on his actual own kind; that being an Englishman pretending to be a Frenchman impersonating an Englishman telling bad taste English jokes, it becomes more apparent that, for comedic purposes at least, maybe all those centuries of requited hate-hate rivalry between the two lands should now be just seen in jest.
Not that the Lucont side of Dubus’ personality will actually ever admit to that. After all, he will always be better than everyone.
Dayne Rathbone: It’s Me Dayne
Rhino Room
When Sam Simmons publicly announces that everyone should go see Dayne Rathbone because he, “makes me look normal”, then one should take heed if one likes their humour wildly left of centre.
Rathbone does have an intellectual disability, that’s actually a fact. This I was told after the show; just ask his mum. This he uses as his caveat to fall back on to say and do the things he does on stage. And in the interest of maintaining some remnants of political correctness in this review, one seriously cannot go there in too much detail.
Upon taking to the microphone, at the first there’s an obvious awkwardness between him and his audience. If it wasn’t for the pretense that we’re all there for a comedy show, at what point is it really okay to laugh? And laughing you’ll find yourself doing, but not without some trepidation.
But as the show goes on and Rathbone not so much tests his audience with how far one can take things, he increasingly forces it upon them. From instigating mass audience participation to help sing his ‘Laughing Game’ song, to pitting two equally divided teams against each other in an almost unwinnable quiz about his pet lizard, Rathbone knows no boundaries. He doesn’t just cross the line of what’s bad taste; he repeatedly takes running long jumps over it.
Culminating in one of the wrongest closures to any show I’ve ever seen is an ending that had those in the audience that were still able to talk shrieking that it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen, and the other half visibly traumatised.
My Dad’s Deaths
Tuxedo Cat
Yes, you read the show’s title right, ‘My Dad’s Deaths’, as in plural.
And if life growing up for former South Australian country kid and now recognised worldwide collector of phallic-like images, Jon Bennett, wasn’t hard enough under a no-nonsense, yet extremely accident prone father and the town bully for a brother, then think again.
It seems every time his father, Ray (“because that’s his name”) went anywhere near a ladder he’d fall off and literally die, or so Bennett would have us believe. But that was only five out of countless other ways that Ray has “literally” left this mortal coil.
Despite Ray’s standing in the local community as the town’s school teacher, school bus driver, church minister as well as the football, basketball and tennis coach, nothing can save him from the ill fate of ladders, tractors, self started bushfires, heart attacks on trains and even his own son, Jon, who during a reluctant pig hunting trip, managed to shoot him.
Time after time Ray has found himself laid up in a critical condition someplace only to barely scrape through and survive; once again, literally. Bennett’s recollection of such incidents is, without doubt, amongst the best, absolute funniest storytelling I’ve ever heard.
Further propping up his relationship status with his father by adding how many times he has disappointed him by making less than conventional life and career choices, reciting the occasional Banjo Paterson inspired piece of poetry along with snippets of angsty teen Facebook rants, and even taking us back to the local primary school talent show (hosted by Ray, who else?), where he demonstrates how not to break dance to Jive Bunny, Bennett never fails to capture his audience’s attention.
I literally had tears streaming out of my eyes, and not just because of the outright hilarity of his stories, but also due to the true sentiment, adoration and sometimes concern that Bennett shows towards his dad.
Every Fringe Festival there’s at least one show I go and see more than once, and this year I think I’ve found it.
One For The Ugly Girls
Tuxedo Cat
When a model booked from an online agency arrives at his apartment, Alistair (Syd Brisbane), an artist of some minor recognition, immediately has his doubts if she’s exactly what he wanted, or even of her true identity.
Brash, crude-mouthed and worst of all, she’s a ginger and far from the perfect look he sought. After a lot of turmoil and conflict of both personality and ideals, Jade (played by Adelaide stand-up comedian, Lori Bell) convinces Alistair to allow her to stay and obligate the contract and the barriers between them begin to break down.
That is until the arrival of another woman (Hannah Norris) and then what up until now was largely a battle of deep seeded needs soon turns physical and ugly. But then there’s a fourth unseen character in the equation. One that ultimately becomes the emotional lynchpin between the original two players, creating a spark filled bond that is formed after being totally shattered by Jade’s reckless intrusion into Alistair’s life.
This is one show that’s near impossible to review without spelling out a few spoilers, a few revealing surprises that build up to become the story. The bottom line here is, ‘One for the Ugly Girls’ is a fine piece of theatre.
And while the premise may not be without a few holes, the execution of all the unfolding events by all three actors is exceptional.
Pat Burtscher: Breaking Even
Tuxedo Cat
Canadian Pat Burtscher first attended our festival last year, and by moderate accounts he did just okay. Then he went to Edinburgh...
And as any world travelling independent Fringe performer will tell you, getting bums on seats in order to pay your way and hopefully eat over the period of your run is one thing, but factor in a few now obvious unnecessary expenses and the chances of you not coming out in severe debt are very slim.
Hence the name of this year’s show: ‘Breaking Even’.
Burtscher is not looking for punters out of pity, and nor should he. I can honestly tell you this is one comedian well worth taking a gamble on. I saw his “show”, for want of a better word, no less than four times last year and each time not every line that he chose to keep from previous nights worked out the way he heard it in his head. But that’s ok, he’ll get back to it another time.
Adelaide, 2013: This guy may look to be unpolished with much of his current show made up of half finished ideas on scrappy strips of paper and at times seems like he doesn’t care to be there himself, but given the amount of laughs he receives from just part of a joke why should he make an effort?
There’s no denying that Burtscher’s material does come across as half baked and untidy, but there’s definitely much more method and indeed social consciousness in his madness than those not paying attention will ever pick up on. This ensures a show that really is all about taking risks; even if they do work against the artist’s own immediate credibility and financial control.
Squidboy
Tuxedo Cat
Squidboy (assuming that’s his real name) not only lives deep in the ocean, but in his own little world of imagination.
Performed solely by Paris trained New Zealander, Trygve Wakenshaw, here we meet a young squid who finds himself taking off on daily adventures that all begin at his local convenience store and lead off in all manner of whimsical directions.
After making friends with Poochie the dog, the pair play a far fetched game of fetch, fend off a lion and work out on a treadmill. It’s not until Squidboy finds himself trapped in an elevator that he meets Susan, the elevator voice, and love begins to blossom. With having a girlfriend of course, comes greater responsibility and the strain of having to work at the stock market starts to take its toll as reality sets in.
Wakenshaw, ridiculously dressed in white wool fleece and jade green gumboots is, by the very degree in the arts that he holds, a master clown or possibly some sort of renegade mime even.
His physical actions, when matched with loads of animated facial expressions and mouth sounds, are priceless. And together with one of the silliest plots you’re likely to see all festival, it’s by having such discipline that transcends this oddball concept beyond being just plain ludicrous into an entirely different kettle of fish and, dare I say, true art.
The Bubble Breathing Dragon
Frehd Astarr & Tim Eee Presley
Adelaide’s favourite clown duo, Frehd and Tim Eee, are back again with a brand new children’s adventure that’s sure to delight. This time they have a new friend, Larry, a friendly dragon who’s lost his ability to breathe not fire, but bubbles.
With the story narrated by their friend Boo, who reads out of a giant red book, they engage the help of Miss Nicci and Airee Fairee, along with a few small audience members and set off in search of The Good Witch who they know can restore Larry’s bubbles.
As with every show Frehd and Tim Eee have ever done, this too is filled with songs, magic tricks and all sorts of games where audience participation is required, ensuring much fun and sell out shows.
After helping Larry, the team celebrate by performing a few bubble tricks of their own, ending the show with one giant bubble that holds within it around a dozen kids. This day however, every time they tried to complete the bubble two young boys kept poking the soapy dome with their fingers.
Then with reports of Larry the dragon’s head falling off mid-performance the next day, it just goes to show that the old adage is true.
Never work with small children and dragons.
Gordon Southern: The Kerfuffle
Rhino Room – Howling Owl
Autumn 2012, England: Gordon Southern’s father experiences a potentially life threatening health issue.
A number of weeks later, while his Adelaide born wife was 10,000 miles away back home enjoying our summer warmth, together with his ageing dad’s pending mortality, this soon lead into Southern’s winter of discontent. One that had him questioning our time on Earth.
All that, and through the power of observation he now finds himself revelling in England’s recent glory of the Olympics and the Queen’s Jubilee, and examines such recent phenomena as Internet coupon-based savings and discount perishable food items at his local supermarket.
Everything it seems has its price and it’s all negotiable.
And just as the seasons have seamlessly rolled into each other ever since time began, so does Southern’s blend of expertly measured logic and artful storytelling, in theory at least. Southern’s style of stand-up is one that is not only slightly excitable and at times messy, it allows him the necessary space to casually respond to audience reaction but to also swiftly slip in whatever degree of audience interaction accordingly. Be that to cut down the occasional heckle accordingly or to spot-check several audience member’s backgrounds.
Even if that means taking considerable artistic license in the latter.
Regardless of his method, it seems we’re now being taken on a journey and you’ll find yourself happily sitting out the ride because when it comes to good-natured, well-meaning comics, there simply is no better to guide you safely to a comfortable, if not slightly askew, conclusion.
Charles Barrington In One Character Or Less
Tuxedo Cat
Charles Barrington is an international man of celebrity. His status is, as he suavely tells us, without peers.
He is a renowned actor, writer, director, entrepreneur and bee-keeper. He wants us to believe that he lives the high life, and fuelled by an equal part measured sense of hyperbole and delusion, what he has to say will have you right where he wants you. Barrington is everything you would ever want to be, if only he were that man himself.
Dressed in an expensive dark suit (by op shop standards at least) Barrington appears before us self-assured and worldly. But as we hang onto every word he slowly drawls, he leaves little doubt that he has a few self-denial issues.
Think Alan Partridge on Xanax.
Such suspicions are supported by the laconic hint of self-deprecation throughout, and this is where Barrington’s creator, Melbourne comedian Andy Rogers, excels both in his writing and delivery. For whether he has a good night in front of a big audience or he’s fronting a crowd of just five (like the night I saw him), Rogers becomes the character and by use of clever phrasing within his words along with expertly timed spacing and intonation he simply zones out and lulls along at whatever pace suits him.
Winner of the 2009 Victorian heat of the Triple J Raw Comedy Competition and runner up nationally, Rogers, or as we should address him here, Charles Barrington, is one character that’s just beckoning to be discovered.
But for real next time.
Wolf Creek: The Musical
Format – Peel Street
It would be fair to say that given the premise of this show one really shouldn’t go along expecting Andrew Lloyd Webber, that’s a given.
But what you do get is a bunch of Adelaide’s up and coming brightest and most enthusiastic new comedians all acting badly with nothing but bad cardboard props and a script that kind of resembles that of the movie that it was based upon, 2005’s hit horror/thriller ‘Wolf Creek’.
That’s right, a true-blue scary story, but with plenty of singing and references to clams. Needless to say you know it’s going to be ridiculous. After all, what’s with the clams? For those who don’t know the film here’s the plot: three young backpackers are driving in the middle of nowhere when they have car trouble.
Offering to fix their car, they’re taken to a remote station by Mick (Kel Balnaves). What they don’t know is that Mick is a sadistic serial killer and keeping somewhat within the original storyline this too has become a life and death situation, except it’s funny.
A winning formula you must agree; remembering the last musical set in the Australian Outback was ‘Priscilla: Queen of the Desert’, and look how well that did.
Conceived and written by James McCann (who provides the musical backdrop) and this year’s winner of the SA Raw Comedy Final, Demi Lardner, and further fleshed out by bearded poster boy/girl Chris Knight, who plays blonde bombshell, Kristy (and if that’s not odd enough, Lardner takes on the male role of Ben. Go figure?).
With Bridget Fahey stepping out as Liz, other parts are played by Bryn Adams, with Angus Hodge playing several roles including the service station attendant and a campfire.
All up, there’s no need to reiterate how silly all this not only sounds, but actually is. If you like your horror all serious and scary, then this isn’t for you.
But if you’re looking for a night out that’s just plain unadulterated fun and full of laughs, then stop on by… like seriously, what’s the worst that could happen?
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