While the boys showed promise, they weren’t performing to what would have been their target audience – Gen X and Y – as the crowd consisted of mostly older people. There were funny moments but the jokes fell short the majority of the time and the biggest laugh that was received was prompted by an obviously bored audience member.
Taylor has travelled extensively, and is able to effectively juxtapose his international cultural perspective with local experiences.
When [Emma Knights] suspended the Popeye under the King William Street bridge, the beautifully live acoustics provided by the cavernous space proved her point that there are other venues suited to the performance of Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” or Puccini’s “Turrandot”.
We sat Amy Michaels down for an interview (or, at least, another woman by the same name) and asked her the tough questions.
At once concerned with both the pursuit of truth and faecal discharge, his pacey performance is both reflective and refreshing, rather like the experience of taking a healthy poo (except instead of being left with a turd we find a golden bar of comedy).
There’s singing, dancing, twerking, and even the showdown between Kylie and Dannii Minogue that we’ve all secretly been dying to see happen.
Griffiths has a beautifully rich and deep singing voice. Paired with his own skilful piano accompaniment, his covers of the pop diva’s classics are totally unforgettable and, at times, haunting.
You’ll laugh, you’ll gasp, you’ll bop your head along to the music, and you might even question your sexuality after the priest performs a hauntingly erotic strip tease.
From a particularly adorable story about a dad joke going too far, to a man realising his dream of participating in a threesome with a married couple, all the way through to a character comedian who reminded me of every delusional safety officer I’ve ever worked with, the laughs were always forth coming.
As the night was working towards its crescendo the untapped energy of the audience began to become uncontainable, so much so that even the sixty-year-olds rocked out to the last song, Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky”.
Hilariously self-aware, the cast unexpectedly shine through the catchy musical numbers and witty jokes.
The set is striking; performed outdoors in an ankle-deep pit of mud, the first row of the audience is provided with plastic sheets to protect from the splatter. It’s a brilliant feature… there’s something undeniably and viscerally satisfying in watching people quite literally slinging mud at each other.
I laughed. Loudly. It was a little venue. That can be embarrassing.
Mickey D doesn’t carefully construct clever jokes, but more seems to start talking in the hope that it eventually ends up somewhere funny – luckily, it almost always does.
