Melbourne International Comedy Festival review by Steve Bennett

The future of Australian comedy is looking healthy if this year’s Raw comedy national final is anything to go by – and its past record suggests it certainly is.

Trend-spotters will note that the dominance of aloof anti-comedy of a couple of years back has almost entirely subsided, with acts now happier to engage with the audience. That was certainly true of first act Sam Taunton, whose sparky conversational style and easy confidence suited the opening slot perfectly, tacitly assuring the audience that despite featuring new acts, this show was going to be OK. Taunton could have pushed the boat out a little more with his material, with comments on the effects of booze erring on the unambitious, or making a little too much of how useless an arts degree is. But as an affable everyman, he’s a natural, with a charisma which earned him a special mention from the judging panel (of which I was a member) at the end.

Second act Angus Gordon impressed with the originality of his material and his keen social edge. The nature of privilege and the consequences of commercial interests sponsoring children’s education were the planks on which he built his set – and the results were as funny as they were politically astute. He’s a strong writer will a well-developed nose for sniffling out quirky punchlines from important issues – and ultimately a worthy winner of the Raw 2015 title.

Anamarg – for that was the next act’s stage name – is an anagram of anagram. And guess what, she likes anagrams. Geeky wordplay pervaded her set, but jokes tended to be more self-consciously clever than they were funny, and her delivery too stilted to be playful.

Local comic Rohan Ganju also deals in one-liners, but with more creativity. Short, Twitter-friendly gags were read out from cards – a technique which is usually frowned upon, but in this context worked well, like a poet reading from a book, as the exact wording of each smart gag was so essential. He earned several applause breaks from the packed crowd in appreciation of the offbeat, and sometimes a little dark, thinking behind his jokes. Such skills won him second place in the contest.

Amy Hetherington has a delightfully bright and breezy presence, and a nice outlook about how that doesn’t really fit into the rough-hewn, male-dominated world of Darwin. One downside of living in the Northern Territories is a dearth of comedy venues in which to sharpen up a set, and her writing could definitely be stronger, but she has an appealing stage presence on which to build.

Ismail Ali opened with a callback to Hetherington’s routine, demonstrating a confidence not to stick slavishly to a prepared set. However, that also proved to be his downfall as he never really settled into a groove. Jokes about being the only black family in Werribee seemed over-simplistic, a tale about handling a gun on a visit to Africa lacking direction. He has an engagingly effusive style, but all that the energy needs focus.

Very deadpan, very droll Sydneysider Charlie McCann is a creative writer with some bold ideas, not afraid to push the audience’s buttons by, for example, ironically expressing some sympathy for Hitler. As he deconstructs song lyrics or considers who a Nando’s gift card is really for, his logical mind leads him to some quirky punchlines that signify lots of potential, even if he's not yet the finished deal.

Jess Perkins winningly offers a jaunty, amiable performance which conceals an entertainingly selfish and smug point of view, deriding her ‘arsehole’ friends and being picky about Miley Cyrus lyrics (although she’s actually on shakier grammatical ground than her pedantry might suggest). Celia Pacquola is an obvious influence that she could do to shake off, but this is surprisingly early days for this bright 24-year-old. This final was only the seventh gig – her Raw heat being her first – and to have such command of the stage so early is impressive, and earned her the other ‘special mention’ of the night.

If you have to ask your audience if you ‘look Asian’ before embarking on your ethnic jokes, as half-Vietnamese, half-Irish Nicholas Huntley did, it might not be the obvious icebreaker you’re looking for. But once that topic was dispatched this South Australian demonstrated some inventive writing – surprisingly heavily influenced by dips – and an easy, affable style. He’s another comic we might expect to hear more from.

With his opening line about awkward silences, David McNevin got off to a good start… although as his set progressed, his obsession with toilet humour, from urinals to relieving himself on a neighbour’s porch, caused a couple of awkward silences itself. But he had more original thoughts about addressing groups as ‘ladies’ or ‘gentlemen’, and if he can strike gags like these with more consistency, he could do well.

Hitler made his second appearance of the afternoon at the start of Cory John Rist’s creepy set, delivered with a disturbing, dispassionate empty-eyed stare and through heavy sighs at the tedium of being here. He’s not an act that does warmth, or even empathy, and his use of cue cards was not as natural as Ganju’s. Jokes were variously brutal, convoluted or deliberately strained … but near-universally not quite good enough to get over the coldness of the moody persona.

Hobart’s Jono Mastrippolito countered that with a lively, super-confident delivery, and was the only act other than host Adam Hills to directly talk to an audience member, adding to the appealing fluidity of his set. His material is entertaining, too, though still seeking a killer edge. His sardonic comments about whether the ‘right people’ are having kids came closest, while his takes on superheroes and first-world problems engaged without standing out. But it was a solid set on which to end a more-than solid final.

Review date: 13 Apr 2015
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Melbourne International Comedy Festival