Welcome to the home of Neurosis Yak/yankland, aka North America. This places fizzes with the bent smash and grab of four performers who each rock 18 minutes.
First into the ring is Dave Meherje, from Toronto who goes at it like a Lebanese Woody Allen trying to address all the voices in his head at the one time. His hands pop left then right as if batting off invisible muggers. He improvs off the audience with the front row being a crew from his home town whom he interrogates and takes on like you’d play with a wild raccoon in a cheap sleeping bag.
Next up: Brooke Van Poopelen. She’s got the onomatopoeia name for tripping your nutsack off by a mountain river. From Detroit now New York, her set corners on the aging mid 30’s woman, how they are represented on TV ads and what in fact is the real bitching truth. She moves smooth through her smooth moves and shits us with laughs like a colonoscopy.
Dave Hill follows with cravat and smoking jacket, like an Oscar Wilde clone eaten and defecated by a fictional Norwegian death metal band. He thanks the invisible applause of the audience, tickles us with erotic short stories, charms us with his delusions of grandeur and wipes us with stories of Japanese hi-tech toilets.
Seaton Smith rocks the crescendo of the night with hi- octane jibes into the nature of race and diversity. He muses on his 75% agreement with conservatives until they sabotage themselves with the last part of their argument.
Each night is throws up a revolving pot pourri of comics from the Upper Americas with all tastes covered.
revue by Connor O’NeilTue-Sat 9.45pm
Sun 8.45pm
Sara Pascoe comes out to the audience armed with a glass of red wine and immediately and mindfully tries to sabotage her own show.
She then challenges herself to win back the audience. She admits she did this in Cardiff, Wales calling it her favourite part of England – which by doing so lost her her audience, who then booed all through her allotted 18 minutes. Melbourne is much too polite to do this and she de-quagmires herself, from the initial purposeful faux pas, during the rest of the show. She delves into whether or no she is an alcoholic and, well, one has to question whether the lady protests too much.
Sara messes with the illusion of reality and her part in it as a struggling ethical, vegan, feminist. She doesn’t hector but unwraps her slice of life through a deep philosophical lens: whether she explores the transubstantiation of a communion wafer, her own existence or why she has abandoned hairdressers and padded bras. She feels dissociated from the world and often at times feels she is just a brain in a laboratory in some cosmic joke of an experiment. She engages us in laughter by her cleverness and her own knowing futility of self.
revue by Connor O’Neil
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