Melbourne International Comedy Festival review by Steve Bennett

Exaggeration and embellishment are the tools of the anecdotal comedian – but Joel Creasey has such great yarns that such jiggery-pokery is unnecessary.

His show this year is built around several long stories that have happened to him because of his burgeoning fame. Thankfully for his comedy audiences, however, he still has the mindset of an outsider from these elevated showbusiness circles, so doesn’t yet feel bound by such niceties as discretion.

True, he doesn’t name the Neighbours star who invited him to a gay orgy, since he’s still in the closet, though there are clues for the dedicated. However Creasey, the self-titled ‘acid-tongued prince’, is far less coy about dishing the dirt on his I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here! jungle buddies, or about naming and shaming the appalling but powerful Hollywood casting agent who dealt a body-blow to his confidence.

He has, however, bounced back from that setback, his camp powers stronger than ever. This is a big, warm performance made intimate by the confidences he conspiratorially betrays.

Though a little gossipy as a raconteur, especially when it concerns his D-list reality show co-stars, the target of most of Creasey’s yarns is himself. He’s the one who feels out of place at the sex party, acting very curiously considering the situation. And even when a junket interview with a needlessly arrogant and pretentious Tinseltown A-lister goes south, his over-reaction comes back to haunt him. He may never work in that town again, but that would be stand-up’s gain.

The Hurricane is gloriously camp (wait till you see the finale) and chock-full of pop culture references. If you’re an avid reader of the celebrity magazines, there will be plenty here to delight, and if you’re not, Creasey’s endearingly self-deprecating stories will keep you onside, thanks to a charismatic stage presence and a delivery that has the power and the pace of, well, a hurricane.

There’s a little grit in the otherwise fluffy stories, thanks to the demise of a cat or the way that LA casting agent niggled his insecurities. But there’s nothing to be insecure about when it comes to this assured storytelling hour, his sixth solo show at the tender age of 24 and a breakthrough into the bigger leagues.

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