Glenn Robbins, Jeff Stilson and Mick Molloy
Note: This review is from 2009
It’s billed as a back-to-their-roots gig; taking place not at the comedy festival’s Town Hall hub, but in a suitably scruffy music venue behind a social club out in the suburbs. ‘This is what it’s about,’ says Malloy sincerely: the thrill of the live audience, the direct connection with fans, the unpredictability, the instant feedback…. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ he interrupts himself: ‘I’ve been sacked by all the networks and I’m fast running out of options.’
Strangely, they seem to have been allocated time slots in inverse proportion to their fame. International star Robbins gets frustratingly brief exposure as compere, homegrown hero Molloy gets about 25 minutes to headline and Stilson opens with about 35.
Robbins is clearly held in great affection by the crowd, and needs do little to focus their attention. His mild-mannered banter is warm and engaging, and he creates a receptive atmosphere with very little apparent effort – but he seemed wasted in such a brief role.
Stilson, who moved to Melbourne two years ago with his Australian wife, is almost the archetypal American circuit stand-up: slick, well-paced delivery, solid but largely unspectacular gags, and personality a very distant second to wisecracks. Sport is a recurring theme; coldly describing the rules of cricket, Aussie rules footy, gridiron and others to reveal them for the ridiculous distractions they are.
In this, and everything else, he sticks to familiar territory; there’s not a single line here you could call typical Stilson – but they come along as regular as clockwork, are generally amusing and occasionally sharply hilarious. It’s fine, straightfoward stand-up, but strangely unmemorable.
Malloy, not especially known as a stand-up, sometimes treads old ground, too, but he has the personality – and the love from the audience – to get away with it. His strength is that unlike Stilson, we immediately now who he is: not because of his local fame, but because there’s a distinct character that shines through his stage persona.
He presents himself as a working-class blokeish rogue; teetering on the edge of sobriety, propriety and solvency. From that the gags flow freely, and the crowd lap them all up. You wouldn’t know his background didn’t lie in stand-up, as he flits effortlessly between cheeky gags and cheery anecdotes, often self-deprecating. Whatever the networks say, anyone who can work a room like this will never find themselves out of employment.
All three performers return to the stage for a final Q&A session, which is finding increasing popularity as a closing gambit in comedy shows everywhere. But it almost always means an awkward, self-indulgent finale rather than a satisfying natural conclusion, and that’s the case here, too. Only Robbins recreating Kel’s power walk gives the trio the send-off they deserve.
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Melbourne, April 2009
Review date: 1 Jan 2009
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett