Review by Steve Bennett

Nikki Britton has diagnosed herself as suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome, never wanting to grow up. She also dreams of flying, which turns out to provide a neat way of tying up a show that’s more carefully put-together than you might think, given that the effusive, chatty delivery gives the impression of a freewheeling young woman getting a lot off her chest, as if sharing a cheeky chardonnay with her friends.

About to turn 30 this festival, Britton is single, childless and poor, following her dream of making it as a comedian, yet still in a shoebox of a venue that could never be financially viable. Her peers, however, seem have it sorted: her social life is a whirl of weddings and baby showers, which she inevitably hates, while her childhood chum Hannah is positively ‘winning at life’ with her high-flying career and glossy-supplement lifestyle.

Such crises of confidence about following the right path in life are common among comedians approaching landmark birthdays (and finding themselves with a festival show to write, of course) and often Britton’s touchstones are familiar ones. Yet that also means she will resonate strongly with those in her demographic, thanks to her gushing, girlie, gossipy personality and compulsion to share her every fear.

It’s a breathlessly energetic force-of-nature performance that sweeps up all in her path. Yes, you might notice that her observations about Facebook, or vajazzling, or the physical effects of aging don’t have much of a punchline, but you’re too busy enjoying her company, and that’s the most important thing.

Brash characterisations pepper the monologue, and you can easily envisage Britton in some high-energy TV sketch show, where pizzazz us more important than subtlety. Less convincing are the unnecessary interludes where she demonstrates her under-appreciated talents, such as a love for interpretive dance, which are apparently something of a signature routine. But there is, perhaps, a reason that they are not that appreciated.

Yet again she blasts through with a warmth and energy; and occasionally content and delivery collide for some very strong routines, most notably when she finds herself in bed with a devout Christian man with a very peculiar moral compass.

Although this is generally a light and breezy hour, it still has substance. Just because she does horse impressions and wears a pink tulle skirt and a bow in her hair doesn’t mean she can’t push messages about the likes of he cosmetics industry and, arching over everything, the upbeat aphorism that you should follow your dreams as you only get one shot at life. Yes, it’s a bit schmaltzy, there’s no getting away from that, but like so much of the hour, it’s soften by her hugely appealing stage presence.

It all makes for a feelgood, cynicism-destroying show which proves beyond doubt that Britton’s chosen path is the right one, even if it doesn’t reward her with white designer sofas.

Review date: 8 Apr 2013
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Melbourne International Comedy Festival