Cabin Pressure review | Sunny Youngsmith | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | The Motley Wherehaus

If only all on-boarding processes were as enjoyably hectic as Sunny Youngsmith’s Cabin Pressure. In a suitably small black box theatre space, Youngsmith transforms the room into an aeroplane, the seating arranged with a central aisle for every audience member to walk down, flanked by rows pressed against the walls. It’s an effective bit of staging that immediately sets the tone of the show that is supported by a score of low hums of engine noises and in-flight movements. From the premium economy seat covers to the single lush business class throne, the details create an environment that is playful and a little unhinged.

For the most part, Youngsmith takes on the role of our lone flight attendant, abandoned by the rest of the crew who have all called in sick. Slightly frazzled and under the pump, they ask a 'passenger' to help with the pre-departure safety demonstration. Audience participation is handled with real care, with eye masks handed out as props for the long flight but also as a gentle opt-out signal for anyone not keen to be involved. It’s a smart, low-pressure system, though the atmosphere Youngsmith establishes so quickly is so relaxed and disarming that I don't see any masks on heads.

Anything But The Dyson and Other Excellent Monologues review | Katrina Mathers | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Trainscendence

The first thing you notice about Katrina Mathers’ set is how 'Fifty Shades of Pink' the dressing room inspired design is, every surface drenched in it, right down to her outfit, with only her purple shoes daring to break rank. They do not stay on for long, though, as Mathers launches into a series of monologues on menopause and the other particular delights middle age throws your way.



Anything But The Dyson and Other Excellent Monologues is Mathers’ first show in 23 years, but you would not know it. She is completely at ease on stage, slipping seamlessly into character and impressions of doctors and newsreaders, with a confidence that suggests she has never been away.



Love Letter to Heephah review | Amelia Pawsey | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Trainscendence

Amelia Pawsey has been living in a sharehouse with three others: her two housemates, and Heephah, a 60cm-tall taxidermy fox purchased from the Art Gallery of Ballarat. The fox has been watching - and not-so-quietly judging - Pawsey and her housemates for several years, so it was only natural that her debut solo cabaret would be dedicated to it in Love Letter to Heephah.

The structure is straightforward enough, with Pawsey discussing an event or situation in a sharehouse before performing a song. We get numbers about how cutlery should be organised in a drawer, and the realities of privacy in shared living, including “Hymn 69”. She uses a mix of live guitar and pre-recorded tracks, which allows the storytelling, physicality, and songs to move into spaces that would not be possible with guitar alone.

Huge Ass Mindset review | Frankie McNair | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Victoria Hotel

With a beaming smile and wide eyes, Frankie McNair tells us she is a survivor of childhood sexual assault and sexual assault. She laughs as she calls herself a high achiever. In Huge Ass Mindset, McNair reframes resilience through an unflinchingly self-aware, fast-moving set that refuses to linger in victimhood. She leans into ambition, survival instincts, and the absurdity of how the world expects people to package trauma into something neat and palatable. There is bite in her delivery, but there is also a disarming openness that keeps the room with her, even as she pushes into darker territory.

Rather than using it as background context, McNair places this experience directly into the foundation of the work, challenging how sexual assault and trauma are spoken about, particularly in comedy. The hour builds as a series of escalating reflections, with ideas that recur and steadily gain weight as the set progresses.

The Performers review | Dolly Diamond & Skank Sinatra | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Grouse

To save themselves from a very high and very overdue Edinburgh Fringe tax bill, cabaret producers Dolly Diamond and Skank Sinatra decide to stage a deliberate flop for the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. But when word of mouth begins to spread and ticket sales start climbing, the two drag divas realise the show has taken on a life of its own, and they are no longer in control of its success.

The Performers features a vibrant mix of live vocals and lip-syncing, including Dolly’s riotous interpretation of Dolly Parton’s sombre "Me and Little Andy", driven as much by facial expression as performance. Skank’s medley of Kylie Minogue songs is slickly executed, as is her delightful theatrical rendition of the South African national anthem. It's a random group of songs, but it all works so well.

Dry Think, Therefore Dry Am review | Nick Schuller | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Trades Hall

Nick Schuller would have to be the least excitable person performing at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. The stand-up comedian returns with Dry Thing, Therefore Dry Am, another set of dry, unhurried observations, delivered in a tone so measured it undercuts the absurdity of the material.



There’s no overarching theme here, just a running list of thoughts and views from Schuller. They feel like the kind of weird and random ideas you’d say with your mates at the pub, except these aren’t the kind of thoughts most people are having. That’s because Schuller’s brain seems to operate on its own unique frequency.

Welcome to Hell review | Andy Balloch | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | The Improv Conspiracy Theatre

In these trying times, with the world seemingly on the brink of World War III, it feels more important than ever to find stable employment to carry us through this period of uncertainty. In Andy Balloch’s Welcome To Hell, Chief Officer of Recruitment, Admissions and Retention Ramone leads an onboarding session for our new role working for Hell. Literal Hell.

As we take our seats and prepare to learn how we, as fresh recruits, can help bring Hell on Earth, we’re briefed on past “success stories”. We don our lanyards and are encouraged to speak in one unified voice. The seminar is, we’re told, sponsored by the Catholic Church, a line that neatly signals Balloch’s willingness to push boundaries.