Review – Best of the Fest Late Show
I can’t decide what food analogy to use for that longstanding Fringe stalwart, the ‘best of’ show. Is it a sushi train, ferrying a parade of comedic dishes past you? A degustation, with course after course of different tastes (albeit paired with the same expensive beer each time)? Perhaps, given the number of competing ‘best of’ shows out there, they are the kebab shop. A blend of local and imported talent, all serving the same blend of ingredients in the same sort of locale, and hoping that you’ll pick their establishment to stumble into late on a Saturday night. Hold the garlic, if not your drink.
So yes, we have the Best of Adelaide Fringe: International Showcase, Best of Adelaide Fringe: Late Show, Best of British, Best of Edinburgh Comedy, Best of the Edinburgh Fest, Best Fest of the Edinburgh, Best Comfest of the Edinbedy, Festco Edbest, & so on. This, of course, is ostensibly a review of the Best of the Fest Late Show but has so far spent two paragraphs on sushi and linguistic regression, proving rather elegantly that sometimes you don’t get exactly what you were hoping for, but hey, maybe the next guy will be funnier.
On the night of my visit, we were treated to a healthy four-course sampler, emceed in between by the viciously camp Joel Creasey. While the middle-aged audience was gasping in shock at the frankness with which he described certain sexual exploits, for the more comfortable of us in the crowd it were the throwaways that had us in stitches. An innocuous but recurring note Creasey would brush over about his parents’ substance problems made it clear that behind the huge stage persona is a devilish mind with great comedic timing. One can only hope that with likable performers like Creasey leading the charge, those with delicate constitutions will see their perceptions of this style of gay comedy shift from being merely shock jokes to clever, albeit blue, humour.
The first half began with Daniel Sloss, a young and softly-spoken Scotsman. He wandered leisurely through the typical relationship material of many rising comics, but several killer punchlines elevated his material about the standard set. A routine about the noises made by female tennis players could have been stale but quickly escalated into one of the best bits of the night.
Leading to interval was Dave Hughes, veteran of stage and small screen, whose particular brand of comedy will be familiar to most. Hughes brought an authentic demonstration of his indignant dissatisfaction shtick and with it the underlying sense that, despite the platitudes otherwise, he still didn’t really want to be in Adelaide. He got distracted early on by an obnoxious heckler correcting him on the pronunciation of ‘Salisbury’ and from that point on his set felt somewhat stop-start. He seemed most at home relating tales of his home life, but with the whites of his eyes showing that trademark tad too much, it did feel a little, “We Need To Talk About Hughesy.”
After a slightly indulgent in length but very funny start to the second half from Creasey, Tom Ballard took the stage. Tom Ballard, gay twenty-four-year old Triple J morning presenter, that is. Apparently the audience could only get behind one gay comedian that night, so Ballard found his not quite so blue, not quite so flamboyant act falling flat. “Why couldn’t he just fit all the fun stereotypes like the other nice boy?” Unfortunately, Ballard blinked a little and despite getting several solid laughs found the uphill battle for common ground with a drunker older audience a hard one to overcome. Plus, having a guy yell out racial epithets mid-set probably didn’t help.
Eddie Ifft, this year’s self-described Arj Barker substitute, capped off the night in strong fashion. A consummate pro, he ambled onto stage with the confidence and ease of a man in complete control. While there were many strong bits across his set, he seemed just as happy – and got plenty of mileage out of – audience interaction, particularly at the expense of a man and a woman who were left abandoned on the front row by their partners. After ending on a high note, Ifft handed off the mic for Creasey to wrap up effortlessly.
That’s the benefit of the best-of model. You get the excitement of not knowing what you’re in for, the variety without the running around, and the fun of trying something new without the risk of putting all your eggs in one basket. If The Blast Festburgh Show can keep booking this calibre of guest – and there’s no reason to think it can’t – then it’s an easy kebab to recommend.
