Review by Steve Bennett at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival

They are the one per cent. Almost 1,200 Australians entered this year’s Raw Comedy competition, but only 12 make it to the national final.

And 2017’s batch are as consistently confident and assured as in any previous year. If performing in front of 2,000 people plus the future SBS audience at home jangled the nerves, it never showed… except, perhaps, for host Sussie Youssef, who took a while to hit her stride and connect with the crowd.

One downside of having such a batch of reliably solid performers, though, is that it can be harder for any one comic to stand out, especially given the relatively limited range of comic styles on display. But of course, a couple did.

Canberra’s Andrew Bensley set a robust benchmark as the opening act, displaying a comfortable poise and pace to his wry comedy. Sardonically talking of animal attacks and the ‘you don’t have to be mad to work here…’ office mentality is hardly cutting new ground, but he added a new twist to most of his premises. He's a warm performer, who would benefit from being a little more adventurous, given that audience feel in safe hands.

Hobart’s Isabella Roldan made a strong first impression with her cheery manner, but despite a strong stage presence her inexperience quickly showed. The semi-ironic exclamations of ‘Bam! Slam dunk!’ as she high-kicked after punchlines, and knowingly referring to ‘an awkward comedy segue’ seemed unnatural, learned from other comedians rather than instinctual. She is from a Chilean family, which informed moderately funny routines observations about Spanish being a sexy language and embarrassing mistranslations, but the superficial approach is limiting.

Jason Williams’ observational comedy was even more simplistic, complaining about the constant demands for updates from his various electronic devices, prompting many a grumble about the march of progress. That he doesn’t like innovation is unfortunately clear from his approach to comedy. And how ironic for someone so anti-evolution that his hometown makes him a Darwinian.

Shaquille Blackley is not what you might expect from the name, being a toothpick thin white dude from Perth with a slightly nerdy attitude. That, of course, gives him his opening line, although the bulk of his set is about deconstructing everyday idioms by taking them literally or imagining their origins. He takes an amusingly offbeat approach to this task, though more variation in the subject matter would have been welcome. When he did stray from the formula to dream up some new dating apps, it paid dividends, with some nice puns to boot. He was named ‘second runner-up’, which seemed fitting.

Bonnie Tangey was one of the stand-outs of the final, having the most distinctive approach to both writing and performance. It was a bit unfortunate that she, too, started by over-analysing an everyday phrase, but she definitely made it her own. She incorporated some haikus and some silly sketches – of the drawn kind - into her set, and had a nice line going against the grain of tired redhead jokes, all making for a varied set. Plus there’s a slightly disquieting edge to this Sydneysider’s initially winsome personality, which adds an intriguing touch of grit. Bags of promise here, and she well deserved her second place on the podium.

Oliver Twist claims that’s his real name, though you might want to take that with a pinch of salt since it hardly reflects his African heritage. But he’s been in Brisbane for the last couple of years, where he’s exploring some interesting ideas in his stand-up, thinking magpies are racist or that he might have a strange superpower as a black man. Unfortunately, these strong ideas are undercooked and sluggish in the execution, while elsewhere he drops a couple of cheap, familiar jokes. However, the spark of originality is there, ready to ignite into stronger, distinctive routines.

Sydney’s Bill D’Arcy boasts a slick, well-practised delivery, and unexpected payoffs to some of his routines, and even sentences. The premises - personal trainers, pub fights – aren’t always so memorable, but he writes with an easy wit around the subjects, and performs well. He may have been unlucky to miss out on a place on the leaderboard, but you’d probably back him to have some sort of future career in comedy.

Carla Wills identifies as an outspoken feminist millennial with over-opinionated political views and the certain knowledge she’s right about everything. Including that description. Fittingly, the Adelaide comic has an aloof, borderline arrogant delivery, while her material packs weight. The sardonic role-reversal imagining a female pervert on public transport might have been a little light on laughs for a short showcase set, but delivered both approving applause breaks on cue, and her core message, all wrapped in a dry wit. 

Local comic Josh Webb starts with a camp ‘hi!’, which is actually at odds with the rest of his deadpan style, as he muses about stuff which he admitted ‘is not that important’, since the big issues pass him by. Sadly, though, the routine about gyms is based on the flimsiest premise that he could be talking about Jims and is as strained as that sounds. And dusting down a terrible rap he did when he was 12 still means we have to listen to a terrible rap, and Webb didn't give it the context or the payoff that might have made it worth repeating. A couple of gags recalling fancy dress his parents once made him wear, and delivered with a long-delayed sense of injustice, redeemed the set a little, but not enough.

With a wavering voice and rambling style, Adelaide’s Brad Hollis is a dedicated exponent of anti-comedy. However there’s a fine line between that approach and just being awkward and unfunny, and he spent too much time on the wrong side of it. His deliberately over-descriptive, boring story hit the mark for so few of the audience you could identify the individual laughs. Although that tiny minority absolutely loved it, the numbers don’t stack up for turning it into a viable career. Still, he owned the weird discomfort, and might even chalk it up as a defiant personal win.

Sharon Andrews, from coastal country Victoria, owned her persona, too, with a certainty and conviction that belies her short time on the comedy scene. Though at 47, she’s got plenty of life experience to draw upon compared to all the whippersnappers on the bill. Her writing is still a bit patchy, though she sells the smuttier jokes well and occasionally shows an enjoyable flash of absurdity, such as considering jockeys to resemble ‘little lesbians’. Her stage presence will serve her well, too.

The best was saved until last, or so it turned out, with Melbourne’s Zack Dyer taking the gold. His mullet and moustache give him easy fodder for an opening joke about his appearance - but he absolutely nails it. Ensuing material about 24-hour Kmarts might not have hit the mark, but his signature routine skewers Pauline Hanson, a rather tired reference for Aussie comics, in a brilliant new way, challenging her hateful politics not with argument but with wonderfully undermining silliness. That’s the way to mock the self-important. And to walk off with the Raw 2017 title.

Review date: 17 Apr 2017
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