For reasons too convoluted to go into, I’ve only managed to make this show on the third night instead of the traditional first. This can have its pros and cons – the show may have been tightened up that little bit more, but the crowd may not be as full and openly enthusiastic as at the opening. 

Not an issue as it turns out, given (a) the show’s still basically a shambles, and (b) there’s a good 50 to 66 percent crowd in Q’s new underground Luna space – wherein the open concrete ceiling and makeshift renovations remind me of the original 90s basement below the Watershed, without the grime.

Said crowd includes many comedians, laughing hysterically pretty much from the opening refrain of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’. The fact so many fellow funnyfolk are so rapt is also potentially ambiguous: are they respectfully impressed with this fledgling local lad, or are they whooping with joy at the lack of competition?

I’m joking of course. That’s one of the side effects of Comedy Festivals isn’t it: everyone starts to utilise humour as currency, often without even realising it. I really have no doubt the considerable mirth generated during Boyce’s eclectic, ramshackle hour to be entirely genuine.

While it’s difficult to give any descriptions without risking spoilers, I think it’s safe to share some of the personal info that Steven Boyce nonchalantly reveals along the way: he’s 24, an only child of Cook Island descent, from the shore (I think), literate in film, sci-fi and Pokemon.

He’s particularly given to the literalisation of common phrases – not a novel concept in itself, but the shameless, cavalier attitude keeps it fresh. This is epitomised in the unique shock ending, which a thousand comics must have thought of doing before, but it has taken the nerve of a relative newcomer to actually attempt it, let alone get away with.

There are plenty of typical post-modern references to the sub-standard quality of everything going on. At least half the time is taken up demonstrating various concepts he’d brainstormed to make this hour-long show, but didn’t make the cut … except of course he’s doing them anyway. As is often the case, infectious natural humour forgives any amount of overwrought or mistimed bits.

Production values-wise Boyce is very generous with a limited budget – especially given the cost of Christmas Wrap in the off-season! (That’s the one gag I’m giving away. Ha – Christmas! Giving away! Shit this stuff’s catching.) Investing in a bottle of clear-eyes possibly wouldn’t go amiss though.

Personality-wise he’s gentle, laid back, charming, nicely dressed and as Kiwi as they come. He resembles a young pint-sized Sly Stallone with his puppy-dog eyes and the mildly devilish knowing smirk he routinely shoots at us, almost like he’s daring us to be amused. 

Bottom-line wise, in regard to the only actual criterion for stand-up, he’s hilarious. 

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