The good, the weird, and the unmissable from this festival’s final fortnight​on April 10, 2025 at 4:19 am

There is a particular Peep Show feel to Casual Receptionist, with obvious nods to other satirical shows such as Parks & Recreation and Utopia.

We witness Gulaksekharam’s activities and gaffes up-close as she interacts with a myriad of invisible people off-stage. Her acting is a delight to witness: she shifts from mirth to disappointment through minute facial expressions and small movements that reveal a latent helplessness and angst. Her comedic timing, too, is incredible.

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As the show builds up, multimedia and musical elements come together for Gulasekharam to showcase her multiple talents, a true joy to watch.

If art is about reflecting the times, Gulasekharam’s show has it all: interrogations about labour and its expectations in this world, delivered in a way that’s engaging, well-paced and non-didactic. The fact that Gulasekharam does indeed have a decade of experience working as a gym receptionist is the icing on the cake – autofiction, but done live.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Cher Tan

Ahir Shah | Ends
The Westin – One, until April 20

British-Indian comic Ahir Shah isn’t your average stand-up. His routines characteristically wade into dark and difficult material – mental health and mortality in Duffer, the rise of authoritarianism in Control – but there’s a tinge of something different this time. Shah has found love and refuses to be anything other than “staggeringly naïve”, even as the UK devolves into a place “calling its last drinks”.

Speaking at a frenetic pace, spurting out more words in a minute than most people are capable of in 10, Shah warms the audience up with punchlines about his name, learning Latin, and arranged marriages. It’s but a mere prelude to his central preoccupation: the privilege to “go without saying” as a person of colour in the UK, which Rishi Sunak’s appointment as prime minister heralded, and the generational progress that’s unfolded since Shah’s nānājī migrated to London in 1964.

The laughs evaporate as Shah moves into the emotional terrain of unacknowledged sacrifice, the dislocation of migration and the sheer dehumanisation of racism. But he’s a consummate performer, always holding the tension of the room in the palm of his hand as he oscillates between passionate raving orations and punchlines designed to dispel the pressure cooker atmosphere of the room. Whether you believe or not in the merits of representation politics, Shah poetically and resoundingly argues that 2025 would’ve appeared positively utopian to his nānājī. If you’re closer to tears than you thought you’d be, it’s proof of Shah’s skilled extrapolation between the personal and the political.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Olga Koch | Came From Money

Melbourne Town Hall, until April 20

A show that centres on your own affluence, at a festival where a swathe of performers are destined to incur a financial loss, in the time of a cost of living crisis? It’s a bold move – but Olga Koch circumnavigates the awkwardness of checking her own privilege ingeniously.

The Russian-born comic was born into unfathomable wealth due to her father – the once-deputy prime minister of Boris Yeltsin – who was a benefactor from when the riches during the collapse of the Soviet Union were divided. A wealth not one that Koch took for granted, but politely declined to receive furthermore from her family in her early 20s. Came From Money is a piercing skewer of capitalism, socialism, oligarchies, class divides, and how we are defined by our bank balances. Koch’s ability to heel-turn from economic inequality into societal critiques and observations is superb, be it a borderline disgusting comparison of the fall of the Berlin Wall to the female reproductive system, call-backs, or impeccable crowd work.

She ends with a line I’m sure her promoters must hate: “If you know someone who wants to see the show but can’t afford it, just get them to message me – I don’t want someone not to be able to see a show about money because of money.” It’s an ode to the ideology that money should never be a barrier to life in a perfect world – or at least a damn good comedy show.
★★★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

Nish Kumar | Nish, Don’t Kill My Vibe
Arts Centre Melbourne, until April 20

British comedian Nish Kumar barely utters a breath as he delivers his politically-imbued, rage-fuelled set at pace. He argues that Rishi Sunak and Usha Vance don’t represent his ideals despite their shared Indian heritage.

There’s a false start as his walk-on music plays prematurely: an altered version of Kendrick Lamar’s Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe, which inspired the show’s name. He sheepishly confesses he was busy eating an orange and using the bathroom at the time. The pre-election timing of Kumar’s show is fortuitous. The first half draws humorous comparisons between UK, US and Australian politicians and their policies, encouraging the audience to use their upcoming vote wisely. The second half is a notable shift towards personal observations, revealing his battles with anxiety and its origins.

The intended 70-minute set runs for just under two hours. He promises to rectify this for future shows, graciously creating an opportunity for audiences to exit if need be. An intelligent jokester with a moral vendetta.
★★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Con Coutis | Escape from Heck Island
Malthouse – Playbox, until April 20

Armed with an impish grin and decked out in a boilersuit, Con Coutis is the “correctional system’s favourite comedian”. But what happens when a case of mistaken identity results in Coutis becoming a prisoner himself?

With over an hour of immaculately incorporated pre-recorded audiovisual cues, audiences are plunged into the immersive world of Heck Island where different cliques rule the roost and a certain iteration of MasterChef holds the key to Coutis’ escape. Incarcerated alongside Coutis, the audience – and therefore audience participation, albeit of the most unthreatening kind – is a big part of the show. It’s testament to Coutis’ easy affability that not even an unco-operative audience member in the front row throws him off.

Escape from Heck Island is a clever show that seamlessly melds multimedia components with live interactions – culminating in something that feels dynamic, vibrant and open to the vagaries of possibility. There’s a healthy dose of misdirection in the way Coutis constantly subverts expectations while obscuring his working. Simultaneously interrogating the social contract between audience and comedian while acting in an ensemble cast where he’s the only onstage performer, Coutis has assembled an exceedingly well-crafted hour of throwbacks, cultural references and suspended disbelief.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Anna Dooley | Endhoe
Queen Victoria Women’s Centre, until April 19

Endo’s no joke. Frequently listed as one of the 20 most painful diseases of the human body, tonight she is personified by comedian and actor Anna Dooley. Endo takes centre stage after being promoted to CEO of Dooley’s nervous system. She’s a powerful CEO giving a rousing presentation to the other organs and nerves of Dooley’s body.

Facing down a variety of foes from home-brand f-boys to painkillers and doctors, she’s running the show right here in front of us. Tales of hijacking her host-body’s attempts to work, socialise or otherwise live life connect with the audience, eliciting knowing laughter and groans of familiarity. Highlights included a vigorous pain-scale workout/dance routine as Endo works on her crescendo of pain rising from one up to 10.

Dooley has taken a sadly common experience that isn’t acknowledged enough in medicine or society and found a way to make it funny: no joke.
★★★
Reviewed by Lefa Singleton Norton

Kevin Han | Extremely Tall and Incredibly Chinese
Storyville, until April 20

Up-and-coming comic Kevin Han has a new show and its title can be taken literally. He is Extremely Tall and Incredibly Chinese. On the night I go, it could be that the crowd was too awkward or sober, but Han is quick on his feet and isn’t deterred. Halfway through the show, the lights suddenly go off, but Han’s quick-wittedness makes me think it is part of the performance. It was a true accident.

Not everything is completely refined. But it is his second night. Jokes are targeted at an Australian audience, often delivered in surprising ways – his material moves from the relationship between Vietnamese and Lebanese people in western Sydney where Han grew up, to mixed-race relationships, Streets ice cream, and white Australian farmers.

“There are racial jokes and there are racist jokes,” Han explains about two-thirds into the show. It’s true, and he’s a master of the former – his work teeters on the edge of tipping into offence but never does, and often offers ​remarkable punchlines. At one point, Han admits that comedy is hard. He’s not wrong: it requires much attention to detail while juggling multiple creative skills to deliver a show that looks effortless. A comic worth keeping an eye on.
★★★
Reviewed by Cher Tan

Urooj Ashfaq | It’s Funny To Me
Melbourne Town Hall – Powder Room, until April 20

Urooj Ashfaq is on a mission to deliver a sexy, dirty, edgy show – mostly to disprove a British critic who called her “conservative”. The miniskirt is part of it, as are smutty double entendres about reading erotica and being the first woman in her family to be diagnosed with haemorrhoids.

The show is strong on crowd work, though it’s mostly utilised to implore embarrassed young South Asian men to maintain eye contact with her when she’s talking about sex – to great comedic effect. She’s nimble in responding to her surroundings, garnering some of the loudest laughs as she remarks on a passing ambulance. Ashfaq is at her strongest when she’s delivering darkly funny throwaway lines that belie her persona as a fresh-faced ingenue, whether it’s about living as a Muslim Indian woman in the Subcontinent or why being grounded doesn’t make cultural sense as a punishment.

There are two extended bits in her routine: one about her exploits as an ill-disciplined high school student, the other drawing on a piece of One Direction fan fiction. They’re amusing at the offset, but perhaps mined beyond their comedic potential by the end. On the back of Ashfaq’s award-winning 2023 debut show, Oh No!, It’s Funny to Me is a solid set that veers towards the expected with moments of brilliance.
★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair

Bubble Laboratory | Bubble Show in Space
Melbourne Museum, until April 20

Eccentric duo Dr Bubble and Milkshake take children on a high energy, sudsy adventure through space. The show is filled with non-stop mayhem, incorporating shadow and hand puppets, slapstick comedy and high-stakes bubble tricks. There’s audience participation as kids are invited on stage as “aliens” to engage in the foamy fun.

As a parent, it might feel chaotic and the space storyline a little tenuous. However, constructing an almost hour-long, all-ages show with enough variety to keep kids entertained is no mean feat. Even when the stunts go awry, the entertainers do well to stall, restart and keep the show going.

It’s a joy to watch young audiences gasp in awe as the pair create a giant bubble that snakes around the stage or giggle as Milkshake and Dr Bubble play tricks on each other. It eventually descends into carnage as bubbles fill the theatre and kids race towards the stage to immerse themselves in it all.
★★★
Reviewed by Vyshnavee Wijekumar

Taylor Griffiths | Sublime Avenue
Theory Bar, until April 20

It’s never a good sign when the biggest laughs in the room are coming from your own tech person. Taylor Griffiths is a mainstay on the sketch and improv scene around Melbourne, and it’s clear where she gets her influences from. But unlike the utter commitment to the bit of Hannah Camilleri, or the audacious and ridiculous characters of Nat Harris, her act is poorly structured and centres on cookie-cutter depictions with clumsy delivery.

A sketch portraying a Metricon Homes sales pitch well outstays it’s welcome, before returning again … and again. A boorish construction supervisor berates his fellow tradies with a bro-first mentality. There is little creativity and individuality within the characters that live on the titular avenue – worse, many of them are accompanied by D-grade jokes.

Griffiths is no doubt trying to channel the bogan-chic of Kath & Kim, but the finesse and slick writing that made Fountain Lakes shine is in another stratosphere. There are bones of a decent sketch show here – but little else.
★★
Reviewed by Tyson Wray

Sharam Namdarian | From Brunswick with Love
DoubleTree Hilton, until April 20

Not every stand-up show needs to push the boundaries of comedy, but sticking to a tried-and-true formula can work against an artist – familiarity begets a certain colourlessness.

Sharam Namdarian’s latest show, From Brunswick with Love, is a bit like that – it may be that he’s used to radio and TV formats, having appeared on triple J and Channel Seven. It isn’t really about Brunswick either. But that’s fine: the label on the tin doesn’t necessarily need to match what’s inside. He moves swiftly between bits, and reveals, as mentioned in the show’s synopsis, that he used to be a “relationship coach”. Yet that’s the joke and the punchline – we never get to hear much more about it.

So, toxic masculinity: tick; being mistaken as white as a light-skinned person of colour: tick; “the ethnic voice”: tick; artificial intelligence and apps: tick; “this modern life”: tick; “not seeing colour: tick. Namdarian is not entirely unfunny, but the material isn’t particularly refreshing. There’s a feeling of having seen this before; there are only so many ways to rehash a joke.
★★
Reviewed by Cher Tan

The Age is a Melbourne International Comedy Festival partner.

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