The Wrestling

Note: This review is from 2014

Melbourne International Comedy Festival review by 'Stone Cold' Steve Bennett

It’s the Thunder Down Under; it’s the Blizzard Of Oz; it’s Hell-born in Melbourne; it’s... really hard to think up a great name for an epic wrestling showdown.

After two unforgettable events at the Edinburgh Fringe, the monumental clash of good versus evil made its antipodean debut last night, with comedians risking a lot more that a bruised ego as they square off against genuine, muscle-bound wrestlers.

And for all an erudite festival crowd might like to think of themselves as arts-loving liberals, once there’s brawling meatheads, pumping rock music and confetti cannons, they are just one poor refereeing decision away from a baying mob.

Actually, the Australian crowd are initially more reticent than the Edinburgh one, probably because the relatively early start (8pm) and the fact no booze is allowed within the town hall venues. But they get there in the end, while comedians throw themselves into the brawl – quite literally – with unmatched vigour.

Our grapplers tonight are led by team owners Jason Byrne – aka General Happiness, his white suit as spotless as his god-fearing soul – and Ronny Chieng, hamming it up wonderfully as the immoral billionaire tycoon, beaming in his arrogance from a secret, luxury lair. And when he did grace us with his evil presence, the video of his journey here was an hilarious highlight.

Ringside commentary came from Matt Okine on the side of good and Des Bishop barracking for the other team. Even if their knowledge of the sport was limited, and the polarisation of their prejudices could have be made more pronounced, they came up with a good flow of gags on the action.

‘Let’s get ready to ruuuumbbbble,’ announcer Lawrence Mooney intones with the ominous sense of occasion that suggests he could have missed out on an alternative career doing this. Our first bout saw the pros do their stuff: Krakerjak, ‘Australia's most diabolical wrestler’ versus Adam Brooks, supported by his manager Luke McGregor and his far-from-terrifying trash talk. Krakerjak played it for laughs - especially as his comic sidekick Greg Fleet, couldn’t make it to the stage until after the action was over – but still obliterated his opponent. 1-0 to the bad guys.

After a brief appearance from Tim Vine’s Dr Pun Ishment, and a drink-emboldened fan being taught a lesson from the intimidating Cremator, looking like a pissed-off circus strongman, it was time for some intergender tag-team action. Andy Kaufman would have approved...

The Prince Of Mumbai, carried in on his throne by bare-chested Gimps, riled the room with some sexist comments – ‘women have no place in comedy... or in the ring’ – before joining The Nightcrawler, a sexually deviant Sam Simmons with a predatory glint and an ill-fitting T-shirt, in one corner. Facing them, Carlo ‘Cash Money’ Cannon, and Tegan Higginbotham as Tegan Higginbookworm.

She might have looked as if the pros could have used her as a toothpick, but the comic hurled herself into the thick of it with an impressive fearlessness – especially as the Prince didn’t hold back either. She took up pro boxing for for a previous show and the toughness clearly never left her. Simmons’s intimidation was more psychological, but managed to lift and slam Higginbotham – before she rallied to take the bout. Whaddya know? It’s 1-1, making the main event a crucial decider.

And this is when pandemonium broke out: Wrestler turned comic Max Olesker, whose brainchild this madness is, revived his Max Voltage character to lead out the good guys: pro star Dan ‘The Hammer’ Head and Tommy ‘Tomahawk’ Little – who was so convincing it took a few moments for the penny to drop that he was not one of the real grapplers. Facing them, Max’s double-act partner Ivan ‘El Guapo’ Gonzalez (it translates as ‘the handsome one’) with The Cremator and The Prime Minister, aka David Quirk in Tony Abbott budgie-smugglers and swimming cap – a character ripe for quips from the commentary desk, as if the mere sight of him wasn’t funny enough already.

With antagonism erupting, all six took the fight right through the auditorium, manhandling each other right to the back of the stalls, spreading the frisson. When the diminutive ref finally wrested control of the situation, the bout proper got under way. Daring top-rope moves from Little and Olesker took the breath away, and probably had producers consulting their insurance documents, while victory was finally secured following a poorly plotted interjection from Hamish Blake (of ... & Andy fame) and a genuinely impressive set piece that finally felled the Cremator.

After three weeks of people telling their stories with little more than a mic and a spotlight for theatricality, the showmanship of a night of high-octane, slickly produced physical entertainment is a refreshing blast. The Wrestling has instantly become a clear highlight of this festival, as it proved in Edinburgh.