Fake universes and a shanty about gaslighting: It’s the first weekend of comedy festival

Celia Pacquola | Gift Horse
Comedy Theatre, until April 5

Pacquola may be a self-proclaimed commitmentphobe, but I’ve never seen a comedian commit quite so much to the bit as in this heartwarming, hilarious and clever hour of comedy. She wasn’t planning to do a show this year – but then her partner bought her the unwanted gift that kept on giving.

Per the proverb of the title, Pacquola unpacks contemporary expectations around gratitude, relationships and friendships with real wisdom and consistent laughs. Whether it’s embracing one’s physical imperfections, parenting with anxiety or navigating a misfired gift, the key takeaway is it’s OK to be grateful for something without loving all of it.

Her takes on common material like ageing and parenting feel just as refreshing as the unusual anecdotes (being bitten on the septum by a cat, for example). She mines all of it for gems. This show is down to earth, relatable, even mundane – but also masterful, layered and poetic. The final punchline is perfect.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Sashi Perera | Pear Tree
ACMI, until April 19

Sashi Perera can sing. The refugee lawyer turned rising comedy star has proved her chops elsewhere – on stage, on the page with her 2025 memoir Standstill, on TV – but when she opens her mouth to sing, it’s unexpectedly moving.

Gorgeous renditions of Patti Smith and ABBA via Angie McMahon are just one part of Perera’s latest show, which weaves humour (returning to her native Sri Lanka with her husband, “the whitest man alive”) with heartache (navigating childless life after IVF). No matter the subject, Perera is a master of comic timing – one particular bit is drawn out in an almost stream of consciousness style, with a punchline hitting out of the blue to peak satisfaction.

The comedian’s crowd work is always a pleasure to witness, too – her reactions feel genuine and when she laughs, you can’t help but laugh along. This assured hour of comedy is gentle on the surface, with a fiery heart.
★★★★
Reviewed by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Denise Scott | Tickety Boo
Comedy Theatre, until April 5

She might have reached retirement age but Scotty still catches the tram to work, even when said workplace is one of Melbourne’s largest theatres (sold out, of course). Mining that incongruity between the mundane and the extraordinary has always been her forte, and after a three-year absence from the stage, she’s back with a show that’s literally a life or death matter.

The good folks of our healthcare system have been the recipients of her wisecracking crowd-work during her recent experience with cancer, but even at her lowest point she was unable to resist throwing a cheeky little shade.

This hour is a thoughtful and enriching reminder of the brute facts of our mortality, but don’t think she won’t go off-script to poke fun at her front-row fans. A telling-off from Denise Scott still feels like a kindness, though. Whoever she casts on the pyre, we’re all warmed by the roast.
★★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey

Diana Nguyen | Pedestal
QT, until April 5

“Welcome to my pussy!” says Diana Nguyen after gyrating her way on stage to Khia’s My Neck, My Back. And yes, there is a lot of raunch in this show – an unsuspecting punter in the front row is propositioned more than once – but also a lot of heart.

Nguyen has recently turned 40, and she’s not where she thought she’d be – no husband, no kids. But the Vietnamese-Australian comedian’s infectious lust for life, and her chaotic, physical delivery, makes it all a deliciously bonkers ride – from sexy massages gone wrong and rules of dating to holidaying with her sister’s young children and the price of bánh mì.

She’s still ironing out some of the jokes early in the run, often checking her notes, but the charm is airtight. The show ends on a delirious high, with Nguyen sharing exciting news about what’s next – but you’ll have to see it to find out.
★★★★
Reviewed by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Soft Tread | Fuccbois: Live in Concert
The Showroom – Arts Centre Melbourne, until April 5

Are f—boys beyond reputational repair? The drag kings in this musical comedy suggest yes. Satirising the notion of the all-male pop troupe, Fuccbois: Live in Concert joins Brendan (Vidya Makan), Brandon (Aria Award winner and show creator Bridie Connell), Tyler (Megan Walshe) and Also Brendan (Clara Harrison) on their final ever show. Adorned in ’90s fashion, they thrust their way through cheesy choreography, while performing infectious original bangers.

Within the familiar challenges that befall boy bands – egos, in-fighting and obsessive fandoms – exists the perfect allegory for modern-day dating. From ghosting to gaslighting, the upbeat pop melodies disguise lyrics that call out men’s bad behaviour.

The show immerses you in a concert experience through moments such as pre-recorded band interviews and singling out audience members for song dedications. Vidya Makan’s a cappella performance of Gaslight Shanty in an Irish accent is impeccable, and Megan Walshe convincingly sends up boy band facial expressions, gestures and poses. Take your situationship before you leave them “on read”.
★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Christie Whelan-Browne, Emily Taheny & Jess Harris | People You Know
The Westin, until April 19

Is this the feminist sketch troupe we’ve been waiting for? Some readers will be familiar with this trio from stage and screen. Here, we get a glimpse into life backstage.

The first skit sets the course, with Whelan-Browne trying (and failing) to pitch a script about the enduring friendship of two women. Between failed auditions – “How did I not get the role of tired mum when I am tired mum?” – they’ve carved out time to create roles of their own. The show’s very existence is like a middle finger to sexism in the entertainment industry.

Highlights include Harris’ toxic tradie preying on women with low self-esteem; Whelan-Browne’s laid-back mum sneaking ‘witch juice’ into a keep cup; and Taheny’s menopause doctor recommending a bath full of live salmon (or perhaps dolphins?), to curb the uncontrollable rage. Some scenes are more slice of life than side-splitting funny, while others nail it. At its best the writing is subversive, bold and relatable. I hope they do more.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Lano & Woodley | Lano & Woodley In Space
Comedy & Regent theatres, until April 5

There’s nothing particularly deep about a Lano & Woodley show – and therein lies its appeal. In the third fully-fledged offering since returning to stages almost a decade ago, the veteran double act takes its familiar schtick on a mission to Mars.

Lano’s narcissism reaches new frontiers as Commander Col with his fancy AI spaceships, while his downtrodden co-pilot Frank crafts cute dioramas and hand-painted signs. There’s slapstick physical humour, imaginative stagecraft and funny renditions of pop songs swapping out the word “lover” for “lava”.

Let’s not for a moment conflate silliness with unsophistication. This enduring partnership of 30+ years (on and off) is about as good as it gets. Forgotten lines and technical difficulties couldn’t possibly throw them off course – if anything, the snags only made the show better by creating more space for ad-libbed repartee. Watching them still crack each other up after all this time is pure joy. Maybe that is deep, after all.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Rob Carlton | Virgin in a Knife Fight
Playbox, The Malthouse, until April 5

As an actor, Rob Carlton is often very funny. As a comedian, he’s rather dramatic. Virgin in a Knife Fight at times feels like an extended shaggy-dog story, full of wild unrelated digressions, but in fact it’s four interlocking real-life stories, densely written and intensely narrated and performed by Carlton on a bare stage with only a black folding chair as a prop.

The chair doubles as a steering wheel, a backpack, occasionally even a chair, as Carlton takes us from his teenage years in the 1990s (when “victimhood was yet to become a way of life”) to his present day, as a father of a teen whom he fears has been led astray by an old friend from uni days with a penchant for pharmacy. Sniff sniff. One minute we’re in the dining hall of a university college, the next at an STD clinic desperately wanting to be cleared (if not exonerated) after a moment of infidelity, the next in a court room in Sydney for the most improbable defence you’ve ever heard.

But it all starts and ends with the knife fight, in Salzburg, “the city where the Von Trapp family sang Edelweiss”, where destiny, character and utter randomness come together in a backstreet showdown with a backpack thief. You may not remember quite how we got here, but you’ll be glad you hitched a ride.
★★★★
Reviewed by Karl Quinn

Abby Howells | The Cave
Melbourne Town Hall – Powder Room, until April 19

Join Abby Howells as she ventures down into the depth of the sea – past some sexy mermaids – to arrive at The Cave: one of the most terrifying, hopeless and morbid places in the world. What is it? A teenage girl’s bedroom, of course. Full of body horror, bad music, and friends who you bully that also bully you back.

Howells’ frenetic energy and unshakable “good girl” image is the driving force of this show. At times she breaks character to have an aside to herself, or to her tech, about the parts of the show that aren’t working. It’s completely unclear whether this is scripted, or an ad lib, but her mad wit in these moments is undeniably charming and hilarious.

It’s a narrative show that is almost confessional in its intimacy, as Howells’ leads us around the room and tells us the backstory behind every poster on the wall. And she’s totally right, we are too judgmental of nice mums who merely wish us to “live love laugh”.
★★★★
Reviewed by Rose Lu

Wankernomics | Show_v4.1_Final_UseThis
Athenaeum, until April 5

The lanyard-wearing lads are back and continuing to lambast the stupidities of office culture. There seems to be no end to the jargon as James Schloeffel and Charles Firth once again regale us with numerous instances of “corporate bullshittery” in their capacity as “thought leaders”.

This latest iteration sets the tone with a video montage bursting with corpspeak that will make many an employee wince in recognition. If you’ve ever been frustrated by tech issues, tried to decipher word salads that involve the terms “optimisation”, “deliverables” and “value-laden”, and suffered in hours-long meetings that should have been resolved via email, Show_V4.1_Final_UseThis will be triggering. Luckily, it’s also very funny as Schloeffel and Firth utilise charts, surveys, ads and graphs to great effect to show how corporate wankery shows no signs of abating.

Warning: they’ll also try to upsell you a new “Premium Pro Plus” version of their show.
★★★★
Reviewed by Thuy On

Zainab Johnson | Toxically Optimistic
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 5

She used to own a Tesla, now she owns a gun. Zainab Johnson’s comedy feels like a Rorschach test for the US psyche right now, leaping all over the spectrum to prove the States isn’t so much politically polarised as it is certifiably crazy.

The New York-raised, LA-based comic knows that what’s funny for whom is a matter of perspective, and punches up her routine on the fly to match the mood of her crowd. For a show that’s unafraid to dwell on the uglier aspects of American culture – from random violence to entrenched racism – it’s a weirdly uplifting hour.

She might seem irrepressibly upbeat, toxically so, as the show’s title maintains, but that’s a smokescreen for the deep craft at work here. There’s even a last-minute reveal that will have you reevaluating much of what’s come before to realise that yes, there is a point to all this insanity.
★★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey

Greg Larsen | Unrelenting Ultra-Violence
Coopers Inn, until April 5

Larsen’s on a political bent this year, but fear not – there’s still more than enough gross-out humour for the entire festival crammed into this hour. We start with a horrific triptych of AI TikToks raging to a death metal soundtrack – disturbing images of war, propaganda and shirtless obese men.

Larsen’s convinced he’s in a Truman Show-style fake universe, and he’s been gathering evidence in a journal for several years to prove it. He reads random entries and riffs on the global military industrial complex, the soul-sucking violence of late capitalism and the nascent AI nightmare we’re sleepwalking into. Highlight are his short stories – ‘The Future’, parts one and two – about next-gen technology spectacularly failing to improve on things that already work just fine.

There’s a certain poetry in Larsen’s profuse descriptions of bodily fluids (and solids). Delivered between wicked one-liners on war and politics, these puerile fixations symbolise just how little humans have progressed since Neanderthal times. Definitely R rated, definitely recommended.
★★★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

Harriet Dyer | Easily Distra…
Trades Hall, until April 5

It takes under a minute for the title of the show to prove true as Harriet Dyer distracts herself and the audience immediately. Almost as quickly, she’s utterly charmed the room with her elastic, expressive face and sunny countenance. The room buzzes with her energy.

Watching Dyer perform is like having your intense interior monologue spring to life. Every tangent, every unlikely link a hyped-up brain makes, every intrusive interrupting thought. Think Tassie Devil energy with a Cornish accent. It’s irresistible.

Dyer’s hapless habit of interrupting one weirdly wonderful anecdote to start telling another results in a non-stop cavalcade of material. Admirable then that she also manages to deliver punch-line payoffs, with no story left unfinished. It’s a mixed bag, material wise, but it all flows freely and lets Dyer exhibit her absurd takes on just about any topic. You won’t find another show like this out there, she’s one of a kind.
★★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

Kiran Deol | Assault on Comedy
The Motley Wherehaus, until April 12

Hypothetical situations are fun to talk about until the situation stops being hypothetical. If you’re Kiran Deol, you turn it into a comedy show. Drawing on her actual experience of being assaulted, Deol asks: what would you do if given the power to choose your attacker’s punishment?

Deol shines a light on all the morally ambiguous situations we navigate in our lives, like whether it is OK to make fun of other people if they make fun of you. Or is your friend still a good friend if they only stayed because they were mandated by law? And, if an Indian woman is assaulted, does it necessarily mean it’s racially motivated?

Deol’s assuredness as a performer allows her to drop down into gruesome details and come up to air with a joke. She deftly adds lightness, without ever making light of the assault. It’s a show that asks uncomfortable questions, and encourages us to have a laugh at the answers.
★★★★
Reviewed by Rose Lu

Gabbi Bolt | Small Poppy
The Playbox, until April 19

Gabbi Bolt wants to be the right kind of B-grade famous. The musical polymath has been turning in must-see cabaret shows nationwide for years now. She’s gone viral, starred in main stage musicals, and become a household name at her old high school. So why does she still feel like a “Sim left in a pool without a ladder”?

Small Poppy is an existential reflection for the perpetually “emerging” Millennial artist approaching 30 and wanting more – more success, more fame, or maybe just enough for a down payment on a house. Bolt is charismatic as ever as she switches from accordion-led odes to donning speed racers for a Charli XCX-style rumination on jealousy. But the show is unfocused and prone to a political earnestness that borders on Millennial cringe.

Thematically, it casts the net too wide, trying to tackle every idea from every angle. Bolt’s endearing self-awareness becomes a crutch to smooth over clunky segues; her laugh-a-minute lyrical word play a way to give her ideas the illusion of depth. You’ll be singing along and dancing to the thought-provoking questions she raises. But you won’t have much time to really think them through.
★★★
Reviewed by Guy Webster

Steph Tisdell | Fat
The Victoria Hotel, until April 5

All her life, Steph Tisdell has wanted to be “good”. Growing up in a fatphobic world, Tisdell’s conflation of morality with thinness led her down a rabbit warren of diets and weight loss camps. But several years ago, a watershed moment led Tisdell down a very different path – one that explains her return to comedy after four years.

Unfortunately, Tisdell uses food and weight as punchlines in ways that reinforce stigma and stereotypes around fatness. Weight loss talk is couched from the uncritical lens of individual failure rather than the sinister levers of diet culture. Personal weight loss figures are cited in ways that could be deemed unsafe. Baseless generalisations around fat people’s dislike of running, among other things, are made, when the simple matter is: no one except runners, big or small but united by their shared madness, enjoy pounding the pavement.

The second half of the show is altogether more interesting. Tisdell chronicles a reawakening on multiple fronts, and charts the solace found in running with mob and discovering movement as a trauma recovery practice. Tisdell is a naturally warm and infectious performer, but as she shifts gears into more vulnerable territory, it’s incredibly moving. That this reclamation of self is framed through weight loss metrics at the end is disappointing. Tisdell passionately rails against the straitjacket of being a “good” queer black woman in a patriarchal, white supremacist world – but one gets the feeling the idea of virtue hasn’t quite been uncoupled from weight loss.
★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Angella Dravid | I’m Happy for You
The Motley Wherehaus, until April 5

There’s dark, and then there’s what Angella Dravid is bringing to the stage in I’m Happy for You. This is black humour with a side of black. It is the second MICF solo show from this New-Zealand based, Indian-Samoan comedian. Dravid’s chaotic life is rich fodder, as she jokes when telling the audience trauma makes for great material.

There’s truth to this, especially when paired with her willingness to be vulnerable and honest. Exorcising demons live on stage can be dangerous, though: is it therapy or comedy? In this show, comedy is the winner. Dark depths are mined and dark laughter results. At times Dravid is almost apologetic as she follows the absurdity of her experiences to a morbid punchline.

What the show lacks in flow it makes up for in finding comedic value in every taboo. The discomfort felt in the audience is relieved with consistent laughs as the unpalatable unfolds into absurd truths.
★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

Will Gibb | Confidence is Key
Melbourne Town Hall – Portrait Room, until April 19

If the “Shower Thoughts” subreddit were a person, it would be Will Gibb. His stand-up is best described as a series of observations and questions, like where broccolini – the “hot, Italian version” of broccoli – came from, or how we’d react if he turned into a werewolf and climbed the walls.

It’s the kind of material you’d expect from a comedian best known for their TikToks. It’ll make you laugh, especially if you’re Gen Z and partial to words like “slay”, “tea” and “low-key”. But it lacks a certain narrative cohesion – a theme or throughline that connects each of the jokes. It’s as if you’re swiping through videos in-app – they make you laugh, but with no satisfying punchline, you eventually tire of scrolling.

Where Gibb shines is his crowd work. Whether freestyle rapping about a random guy named Gabriel or flirting with a rich plumber, he always has something unexpected up his sleeve. You can find similar observational humour all over TikTok, but Gibb’s level of crowd interaction? That’s stand-up gold.
★★★
Reviewed by Nell Geraets

Tape Face | 20
fortyfivedownstairs, until April 19

Would I have found an emo mime funny 20 years ago? Hard to say, as Tape Face – formerly known as “The boy with tape on his face” – has somehow completely passed me by.

This is billed as the return of the “show that started it all” for an act which is now a fixture in Vegas. Just so we’re clear on this being a mime show, our protagonist has gaffer tape over his mouth so he can’t speak, and there’s lots of accordion music. The act relies almost entirely on three things: cheap props, the sound technician, and audience participation – and not in a Garry Starr kind of way that manages to win over even the most reluctant audience member.

His heavily gelled side-sweep haircut, black canvas shoulder bag and panda-eye make-up are not the only things that feel dated. Today, it’s standard fodder for comedians to incorporate audio-visual elements into their shows with far more finesse than what we see here. Many of the song references have not endured, there’s no narrative through-line, and the over-reliance on props means the jokes take too long to set up. I didn’t find it funny in 2026, but judging by the post-show photo opps, enough of the audience was on board.
★★
Reviewed by Hannah Francis

The Age is a Melbourne International Comedy Festival partner.

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