Ben Hurley is happy to be back at the San Fran where he started out as a comedian 13 years ago, and to have got to Wellington before the bad weather hit. He’s an ideal host: amiable, warm and very responsive to audience offers. A young woman throws him comedy gold by saying she met her itinerant English boyfriend at The General Practitioner. Perhaps he honestly doesn’t know that’s now the name of the restaurant and bar on the corner of Willis and Boulcott Streets.

Even when his material is prepared, Hurley has a knack of making it seem spontaneous. He links between most of the acts, keeping the laughs coming and preparing the ground well for the relatively inexperienced – but more than newbies – talent. [Ben Hurley plays the San Fran, 12-17 May, 8.30pm.] 

When Adam Wright kicks of his set with a reference to animal lovers, I’m surprised he doesn’t use the news of the day – about banning animal testing for synthetic highs – to his topical advantage. His ‘poor boy’ titles for cut-price children’s stories makes for whimsical comedy, as does his analysis of Postman Pat from the words of his signature song. [Adam Wright played Kitty O’Shea’s last week – see review.]

After the bearded Hurley regales us with what keeps happening to him on planes, Eamonn Marra brings his very different approach to the stage. He mines what he and/or society sees as his short-comings – not least a supposed lack of confidence – to generate empathetic laughs, especially with his pre-written compliments to himself. His commitment to gender-neutral insults, his claim to have faked it as a comedian in order to get a music gig at the San Fran, and his inspirational song pastiche complete the night’s best confidence trick. [Currently playing Puppies, 5-8 May, 8.45pm – see review.]

Nik Bruce-Smith riffs confidently on flats with thin walls, pillow talk, naked streaking, making a dick of himself overseas, testing the bound of liberalness and shared school lunches. Randomly standard stand-up fare. [See Rob Harris below.]

Hurley treats us to his 3 year-old daughter’s first joke and the difference between the advice you get about becoming a father and the actual experience before introducing the hugely talented phenomenon that is Hayley Sproull.

Her performing persona, comic compositions, keyboard skills and singing are world class. Whether it’s a song arising from anger management, trying out a new chord progression, expressing her love of moustaches, or teaching us fake singing trick – a veritable farrago of parody here – she has her audience in the palm of her busy hands. My only complaint is that her lyrics are so clever and her rhyming so wicked (e.g. literal / clitoral) that the otherwise admirable speed of her recitative stops us savouring the detail. Nevertheless, Sproull is the undoubted star of the night. [Hayley Sproull and Chris Parker’s Tighty Whiteys plays Bats Theatre out-of-site, 6-10 may, 6.30pm.] 

After a refreshment and restroom break, Hurley further develops his audience interactions and tells us the funniest thing he’s encountered during his extensive travels around NZ (not to be revealed here; you’re bound to hear it sometime from the proverbial horse’s mouth). And he betrays his Taranaki roots when arguing with us over the plural of hoof.

Most of Dan Shenton’s good ideas for material come over a bit half-baked. How to get out of a conflict situation, thoughts on becoming a PR consultant tp Black Power, his Jabba the Hutt impression, observations about the impact of Facebook on birthdays and ideas for the new flag all have potential, they just need more work. [Dan Shenton teams up with James Jobe at Kitty O’Shea’s, 13-17 May, 7pm.]   

Kade Nightingale’s adolescent humour (e.g. pooing in the shower to save time) counterpoints Jeremy Rolston’s conjuring skills in their set. Their cure for a bloodshot eye is bizarre and a cool card trick is enhanced by having its mechanics revealed. But when they take turns at reading out an all-purpose reply to future fan letters, their energy fizzles along with the humour. Maybe if they learned it and delivered it as if they were making it up on the spot …? [Kade Nightingale and Jeremy Rolston play Bats Theatre out-of-site, 13-17 May, 6.30pm.]  

Itinerant Canadian Rob Harris, currently domiciled in Wellington, works in an office and gleans his best comedy from showing us how he protects himself from RSI. His attraction to, and creative use of, our warning-illustrated cigarette packets also adds visual fun to his set. [Rob Harris and Nick Bruce-Smith play Kitty O’Shea’s 6-10 May, 8.30pm.]

Overall the Next Big Things showcase has given its well-disposed audience a good steer on where to spend their time and money over the next couple of weeks. Ben Hurley did caution us not to heckle these acts but to let him have it instead. Some may find themselves facing up to greater demands when they’re on their own. 

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Ben Hurley hosts a smorgasbord of ten new Kiwi comedians in Next Big Things.  It’s a challenge to get on stage and make an audience laugh, but the crowd is supportive of the new talent and each comic, despite a few wobbles, provokes some good laughs. 

Nic Sampson starts by leading us into a world of the zoo we’ve not encountered before. Starting is always hard, and audience engagement is a little lacking.

Paul Douglas’s set focuses mainly on sex and drinking: good classic material, but we’ve seen it before. Steven Boyce’s jokes about his brownness fall a bit flat, but he warms up into an amusing set. Becky Crouch has fun poking fun at herself, but her gig would benefit from overall cohesion.

Sam Smith is a highlight of the night with a ‘Did you know?’ fun fact section and some songs I would like to see developed into something further. Sanjay Patel gives us a great explanation of the origin of “yeah, nah” in full deadpan style. James Roque’s energetic riffs on rapping tie up nicely resulting in a streamlined, clever and funny set.

Maarten Idema’s set is slow to build, and there are some good laughs, but overall it feels lukewarm. Louise Beuvink’s dry humour is refreshing with some great observations on dating. Matt Stellingwerf’s confident set is a challenge as the final in a big night, but he pulls it off well.

Ben Hurley’s easy charm makes him a winning host. And the format is a good one: bite-sized chunks of fresh new comedic talent. However, with ten acts and plenty of Ben to keep us warm throughout, by act ten, even the most supportive audience members are flagging. This show might embrace taking on fewer comedians in future. On the flipside, it’s bang for your buck with almost 2 ½ hours of stand up.

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