Barnie Juancan: Tap Head | Melbourne International Comedy Festival review
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Barnie Juancan: Tap Head

Note: This review is from 2019

Melbourne International Comedy Festival review

When a comedy show starts with the visually arresting image of a man walking sadly across the stage with a giant tap as his head, you know you’re not in for a conventional hour.

The distinctive, and beautifully absurd, opening scene of Barnie Duncan’s Tap Head certainly sets an odd mood that disorientates the audience, who then don’t know quite what to make of the following stand-up routine, once he’s discarded the plumbing as starts to perform as what might be himself.

This set is cheesy, but sometimes surprises with a good line as ‘Barnie Juancan’ mixes on-brand observational comedy about a tap he spotted in a public toilet with a whole load of corny puns and a schmaltzy message about making connections. 

The kitsch factor is emphasised as punchlines are topped with a blast of Latin music to provide some cha-cha to accompany the ha-has. Such stings are certainly appropriate for the comedian behind the successful, party-loving Juan Vesuvius character.

Over the hour we flip between this try-hard comedian and the faucet, who also attempts  a stand-up routine – which does not go well, engulfing him in a shame he cannot wash off. 

As the theatrical hour progresses, it emerges that the idea stems from the common stand-up technique of anthropomorphising inanimate objects, which ‘Juancan’ also associates with his mother. 

The show could also be saying something about comedians exploiting the lives of others for their material. But even as some of the elements drop into place, many  possibilities remain tantalisingly ambitious. Is the stand-up really trying to make connections, as his pat slogans suggest, or is he just, erm, spouting nonsense?

Skilfully performed, Tap Head is an ambitious and interesting attempt to do something different with the conventions of the stand-up craft. In execution, it turns out to be more intriguing oddity than a laugh riot, but is gently heartwarming, even poignant at times, and surprisingly satisfying.

Just the sort of boundary-nudging work that comedy festivals should be encouraging. 

Review date: 9 Apr 2019
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Melbourne International Comedy Festival

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