I propose a toast, to these Comediennes and particularly their wonderful host Jan Maree; Thank you for a wonderful night.  I toast on behalf of the almost capacity crowd at the Paramount on Tuesday night who were treated to over two hours of great comedy entertainment, and a wonderful variety of talent.

Jan Maree is a delightful host, with a courageous brassiness that is never brash or grating.  Her jokes range freely from the dirt crude (on blowjobs with a condom: "It’s like eating a sausage roll without taking it out of the bag"), to the joyously astute (on her mother’s mannerisms) without missing a beat.  She gives out prizes with the compulsive impetuosity of, say, Julian Clary – offering a magnum to an audience member based on the sound of their laugh, but refusing to award it when they don’t perform on cue.  She is rebellious and fun, like a drop-out student given the run of the assembly, and singling out the headmaster for detention.

The opening act strikes a bit of a flat note in comparison, a weary effort by the Improv Divas.  These four WIT affiliates limp literally and figuratively through a couple of ‘impros’ which lack pace, timing and… well, humour.  Improvisation is by its nature risky but this time it was just bad.

Fortunately ‘Ivanja Dabrowska’ the Russian bondage mistress lifts the bar with the next set, Ciara Mulholland performing only an hour before her solo show (50 Minutes with Ivanja Dabrowska)  is to open at Bats Theatre.  Mulholland has created a fully-realised character in Dabrowska, and she is commanding and in some ways deeply beautiful to watch on stage.  Although it’s more theatrical than stand-up and therefore doesn’t convince 100% in this abbreviated format, it’s a stunning performance and a great taster for the full-length show.

Caroline E Waltz lets rip with a hysterical opening salvo of gags, picking up some of the biggest laughs of the night.  She can’t quite keep this momentum for the whole set, but still presents some ripe, juicy material fresh from her obviously fertile (and somewhat sordid) mind.  The eccentric in a line-up of some considerable eccentricity, Waltz is a true original.

The second half is a rip-roarer, starting with another generous helping of Maree, followed up by fresh-faced Emma Osbourne, whose bright and brilliant set is a highlight of the show.  Osborne has scooped the pool of Comedy Awards both in Wellington and Auckland, and it’s no trouble seeing why.  Her humour is both sharp and impeccably fast-dealt, fizzing with the faux-irony of youth.  She leaves the audience breathless.  

Cathie Sheat follows in convincing style with a slightly slower but equally piercing set, each of her gags finding a bulls-eye.  Sheat demonstrates the cool accuracy of the professional.  Her weaker material, derived from her ‘day job’ as a lawyer, is still built on solid foundations and delivers on the punchlines.  Her more well-honed stuff, centred on life as a lesbian, is tight and furiously funny, delivered blow for blow to bigger and bigger laughs until she finishes triumphant. 

Irene Pink rounds off the programme with an effortless display of ‘diva-as-it-should-be-done’, demonstrating her techniques for toying with helpless All Blacks and Zambesi staff, abortion protesters and weight-watchers counselors.  Pink’s effortless delivery and rapport with the audience is deceptively skilful.  Her economy of gesture and volume belies the range of expression within her reach.  She gives a short and concise set that refreshes the audience after a long night’s laughing.

The star of the show, however, is clearly Maree.  Always in control, if not according to schedule, she delights and entertains throughout.  From the front row we could even hear her irrepressible guffaws from the wings as she watched her fellow comics on the stage.  She is currently exploring the logistics of bringing her comedy cooking show Eat Me to Wellington for Fringe 2008, and if she does, go!

Maree closes the set praising the current state of female comedy in New Zealand and with a showcase like this it’s hard to disagree.
_______________________________
For more production details, click on the title at the top of this review. Go to Home page to see other Reviews, recent Comments and Forum postings (under Chat Back), and News.  

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

First, my sincere apologies to Divas Penny Ashton and Jules Douglas-Smith. Due to last minute childcare issues beyond my control, I didn’t make it to the venue till Irene Pink was finishing off the first half.

However, I spoke to a woman who has worked in the entertainment industry for decades, who gave me a great summary of what I missed. It was her observation that:

1. Talented host Michele A’Court, struck up a warm rapport with the audience very quickly, and happily wove around global warming; Eden Park vs. paradise lost (water front stadium) and how happy New Zealanders are with "average" as the ultimate goal, making astute and humorous observations throughout.

2. Penny Ashton dressed appropriately for her routine and looked sassy and sexy, as she chatted about sex, her breasts and a very funny lap dance with a happy punter from the front row. The audience loved it.

3. Relative new comer Jules Douglas-Smith, while obviously not as seasoned a performer as her fellow first half Divas, again, chose sex, including a parody of a Nora Jones song, reworded to convey her feelings about bad sex, as the mainstay of her material. While my friend thought local references about Titirangi fell flat because they were a one-dimensional stereotype, she commented that Jules finished on a strong note.

I slipped upstairs into the gallery when Irene Pink was in full flight, and had the capacity crowd, (mainly women, though there were more men than in previous years), in peals of laughter, eating from the palms of her hands. There were shrieks of recognition and a strong sense of shared experience, as Irene recreated the smugness of a skinny speaker addressing a semi-circle of women at a weight watcher’s meeting. Irene is confident, warm, comfortable on the mic, as she makes her well-oiled routine shine once more.

MC Michele opens the second half, in her relaxed, professional manner. She too is at home on the mic, combining her smooth delivery and excellent, varied material extremely well, as both a giving and warm host and comedian in her own right: the perfect MC. Michele leads with a humorous routine about Holly, her 14 year old daughter, and the misery of moving from being a young Victoria University Women’s Rights representative, to being mother of an emo, buying spankies for her daughter’s cheerleading apirations.

Britney Spears, ¾ pants, Steve (now famous member of the Diva’s, having been on stage two years in a row), Hayley Westenra, accountants and Mother’s Day also get a thorough grilling.

Michele makes the point that female stand up comedians come in all flavours, though they are often lumped together as a single genre of comedy.  Agreed – and thank god for variety, as personally, I’m well over jokes about sex, hangovers, penises, slappers and blowjobs. Even though Jan Maree (self labelled filthiest female stand up in NZ and proud of her job as a host at the annual Erotica exhibition and much publicised parade), got some of the biggest laughs of the night, I’m over it. I know what’s coming. I’ve heard it all before. There is no shock value left for me here.

Justine Smith, with her trade mark eyes, via farts, miming the after glow of giving head and gratuitous use of the words f*** and c***, eventually got to Christchurch, her prudish upbringing, and some of her best material.  Driving stoned, strong thighs, and hangovers, also got a work out along the way. With her rapid fire delivery and inability to stay on track, resulting in hilarious asides and ad-libs, Justine is at the top of her game. It’s grubby, it’s hedonistic and the crowd loves her.

I fully appreciate that stand up is probably the hardest job in the performing world – you’re your own writer, director, editor, performer and producer. I fully appreciate how hard it is, and therefore going for the cheap, broad appeal of sex jokes, and shock material, are safe options. So maybe it’s the audience’s reaction I’m over, as both topics, uniformly, gave the guaranteed laughs throughout the second half. The women laughed at the comedians, just as heartily as the men. So what the hell do I know? 

From my perspective then: thank you, most sincerely, to Ash Kilmartin. While, in terms of her delivery, she is still finding the balance between set up time and punch line, (more of the latter, less of the former required), and while at times she over-intellectualises (stream of consciousness rants about theoretical multi choice dilemmas probably look much funnier on paper), at least Kilmartin concentrates on material other than sex.

The Diva audience were mostly 30+ with careers. Kilmartin is much younger and took a student perspective on most things – a tough crowd for her to find common ground with. She did well in the circumstances, especially when the audience, bar a small group in the balcony who laughed throughout her routine, grew quiet. See her show, if not for belly laughs, then at least for an insight into the mind of a clever astute young woman, who has intelligent perspectives on Goths, emo’s, Oasis, NZ Music week, the OC, and daring to be different. She’s got a fierce pout, she’s got stuff to say and she’s fresh.

But if you’re more into sex jokes and shock value? You can’t beat the irrepressible Jan and Justine, both of whom the Diva audience found hugely entertaining, I can’t stress that enough. They know what works for them, they spoke to their audience, and their audience loved it. Good on them – job well done.

To round off my seemingly prudish rave: two things define a comic. Their content and their delivery. Without exception, I witnessed confident, bold women on the Diva stage: their delivery is strong and they made a lasting impression. Content wise? In terms of the routines I saw: thank god for Michele A’Court and Irene Pink, and keep going Ash Kilmartin – good on you for daring to be different.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer