Review by Steve Bennett

‘Gratuitous’ is the prevailing atmosphere of Lawrence Mooney’s show. A strong performer more than capable of crafting a fine comic turn of phrase or positing a provocative opinion, he largely chooses not to. Instead he stands on familiar ground and contributes little, wasting his talent.

Much of the show is taken up with sex, loosely based on the idea that we’re all deviants somehow. Yet the material is pedestrian descriptions of how men can’t find the clitoris or detailing euphemisms for vagina. Most people stopped listing all the rude words they know once they leave high school.

Out of this might emerge a rare and lovely gag. His inspired description of how, as a 45-year-old man, his ejaculations aren’t what they used to be is exquisitely – filthily – beautiful. But it stands alone in a sea of mediocrity.

In this vein, there’s a long summary of the case of Herman Rockefeller, the wealthy developer and secret swinger allegedly murdered and hacked up with a chainsaw when he showed up to a party without a partner. And there’s no joke to it, just a slightly more florid version of what you’d hear on the news, but told in an incredulous voice.

Then he suggests we flog those caught carrying knives until they are unconscious, though such an extreme sharia-type opinion is never explained, other than he thinks people shouldn’t carry knives. It looks like he’s going into a tirade against what he calls ‘narrow-minded left-wing fuckwits’ which might be refreshingly contrary – but that’s as far as the argument goes. In opposition to this right-wing thinking he has a nice routine about racism, which only serves to show how much of his other material falls short.

The glimpses we get into his own life are more tantalising. He has a straightforward childhood routine remembering his dad burning all manner of noxious waste in the garden, which is entertaining, while hints about his younger life among the hippies of Melbourne’s more studenty suburbs hints at a fascinating past.

Yet why bother exploring any of this when you can just mention fannies? And not for any great purpose, either. Maybe he’s spent too long in raucous clubs where this might be a vital survival mechanism. But in festivals, a skilled performer such as Mooney can surely leave such lowest-common-denominator thinking at home.

Review date: 17 Apr 2010
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett