A difficult night for both the performers Mike and I saw on Wednesday night, I think, performing to small crowds in mostly empty rooms. So, how did they rise to the occasion?
Gerard McCulloch is Gerard McCulloch sees the affable Melbourne comedian dropping the characters and narrative structures that have informed previous shows such as
Uncorked and
Gerry of Arabia, returning to the roots of comedy to deliver an hour of somewhat basic stand-up. On Wednesday night, with only seven of us in the audience (not counting the two Auslan interpreters who left after about 15 minutes when it was clear their services weren't required) the show ran short, and in truth limped across the finish line. Less people means less laughs, resulting in McCulloch having to hammer through his material rather than pause for a breather while the audience rocked in paroxysms of hilarity. There were certainly laughs generated; and McCulloch's stories of playground accidents, explanations of why cabaret is shit, and the difficulties of writing for television were solid; but overall - even taking into account his struggle to work an almost-empty room - the show lacked magic. When you know that a comedian can do better, it's dissapointing to see a show that feels so under-developed.
Two and a half chuckles out of five. (Town Hall til April 29)
Michael Chamberlin - Buddha & Bluey and Me. Later that night, up the road, down a laneway and upstairs,
Mike and I caught Michael Chamberlin's latest show, a homage to Chamberlin's lifelong friendships with two mates, Buddha and Bluey. With only about 20-25 people in a venue that could comfortably seat 100, Chamberlin might have struggled. Instead, he proved himself an adroit, engaging and charismatic performer who more than rose to the occasion. While this wasn't an exceptionally brilliant night of comedy, Chamberlin's stories of childhood misadventure in the Christmas pagent, inciting a schoolground rebellion over a confiscated football, and a ballet dancer's testicles raised plenty of laughs.
Three happy chortles out of five. (Alley Bar until April 29)
Gerard McCulloch is Gerard McCulloch sees the affable Melbourne comedian dropping the characters and narrative structures that have informed previous shows such as Uncorked and Gerry of Arabia, returning to the roots of comedy to deliver an hour of somewhat basic stand-up. On Wednesday night, with only seven of us in the audience (not counting the two Auslan interpreters who left after about 15 minutes when it was clear their services weren't required) the show ran short, and in truth limped across the finish line. Less people means less laughs, resulting in McCulloch having to hammer through his material rather than pause for a breather while the audience rocked in paroxysms of hilarity. There were certainly laughs generated; and McCulloch's stories of playground accidents, explanations of why cabaret is shit, and the difficulties of writing for television were solid; but overall - even taking into account his struggle to work an almost-empty room - the show lacked magic. When you know that a comedian can do better, it's dissapointing to see a show that feels so under-developed. Two and a half chuckles out of five. (Town Hall til April 29)
Michael Chamberlin - Buddha & Bluey and Me. Later that night, up the road, down a laneway and upstairs, Mike and I caught Michael Chamberlin's latest show, a homage to Chamberlin's lifelong friendships with two mates, Buddha and Bluey. With only about 20-25 people in a venue that could comfortably seat 100, Chamberlin might have struggled. Instead, he proved himself an adroit, engaging and charismatic performer who more than rose to the occasion. While this wasn't an exceptionally brilliant night of comedy, Chamberlin's stories of childhood misadventure in the Christmas pagent, inciting a schoolground rebellion over a confiscated football, and a ballet dancer's testicles raised plenty of laughs. Three happy chortles out of five. (Alley Bar until April 29)
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