Melbourne International Comedy Festival review by Steve Bennett

In comedy, there’s low-status, then high-status, then Ronny Chieng, who is is arrogance personified. Just five years into his career, he’s standing in front of his name in lights telling us, repeatedly, how he graduated from an elite law school, and now tours the world with his stand-up, including supporting Dave Chappelle. ‘I’m a down-to-earth guy,’ he deadpans, unconvincingly. ‘But I’m getting pretty famous.’

The Malaysian-born comic is cold, aloof and single-minded in his determination both to succeed and get one over the other guy. He’s the product of demanding, high-flying parents and a persistent racial stereotype. His unforgiving persona is pseudo-ironic, although there’s not a huge amount of light and shade to it. For vulnerability you need to look elsewhere.

When he elevates an inconsequential encounter with an Apple Store ‘genius’ – that word dripping with sarcasm when Chieng says it – into a epic cornerstone routine, the joke would usually that he’s ridiculous to take the trivial intensely seriously. But never does Chieng’s facade crack to let you know he’s in on a gag his own expense. In the showdown between the unstoppable force of pettiness against the immovable object of a corporate jobsworth, neither side is particularly worth cheering for. There are some strong laughs, though it’s not as consistently funny as it probably ought to be given the effort invested. The edifice of the routine teeters on feet of clay, because it’s just not that important.

Chieng’s run-in with the tech giant is not the entire show, though sometimes it can feel like it. Nor is it the only routine to rely on the exaggeration of minor details and irritants. The technique can be very funny, but also is inherently flawed, with each harsh punchlines tempered by the nagging feeling he’s making much out of relatively little.

When used well, the supreme self-confidence gives him the brilliant ability to demolish clichés. But he also sticks to them sometimes, too, such as in his routines on the perils of accidental sexism and his parents’ attitude to his career.

With typical intolerance, he sneers about the folly of youthful opinion. At the wise old age of 28, he thinks everything a 25-year-old says is contemptible. Older ears yet might want Chieng to get over himself, too.

Yet he’s clearly got a winning formula, with the sizable Hi-Fi bar full to capacity. And with age on his side he’s got plenty of time to develop more subtleties to enrich that aggressively entitled attitude.

Review date: 9 Apr 2014
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett