How a pub joke became a comedy show teaching Auslan for Ben Richardson | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Wheat, Wine & Whiskey

What began as a tipsy joke in a pub has evolved into one of Ben Richardson’s most inventive performance yet. Drawing on his life as a CODA - a Child of Deaf Adult(s) - and his years as both a comic and Auslan interpreter, Richardson blends stand-up with hands-on language learning, inviting audiences to laugh while picking up the fundamentals of Auslan along the way. In this interview, he reflects on the accidental origins of the show, the influence of growing up between Deaf and hearing worlds, and why signing to a song could be the funniest way to learn.
 
"This came about from a drunken night out, as all good shows do," Richardson explains. "We were at a country pub and there was a live band playing the usual country pub songs. I drunkenly started singing them in sign language. My mates joined in after I showed them how to do the chorus. Then others on the dance floor jumped in and it became quite the scene. I realised hearing people enjoy doing these in Auslan and I also realised the only way people are ever going to want to hear me sing is if I do it quietly in sign language. Hence, Welcome to the Auslan Jungle was created."

Black Widow: Sex, Bugs & A High Death Toll | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | The Speakeasy Theatre

In Black Widow: Sex, Bugs & A High Death Toll, Isabel Knight invites audiences back into the web of Arachne, her razor-sharp, silk-spinning alter ego who blurs the line between seduction and satire. Part cabaret siren, part mythic avenger, the half-woman, half-spider creation returns to Melbourne stages with sharper legs, stronger vocals and a newfound depth. We spoke to Knight about how this remount is not just sting and spectacle, but a deeper dive into vulnerability, power and the messy thrill of transformation.

Knight admits that Arachne has never left her and has slowly been weaving her way back to Melbourne stages. "Honestly, I haven’t stopped thinking about her," she says. "She has made an appearance at some cabaret nights singing songs and finding a new lover or two, but nothing beats her in her full form, web and all. She is still itching to say more and who am I to stop her?"

Back to Te Maunga review | La Mama Theatre

In Back to Te Maunga, childhood Māori friends Tāne and Isaac reunite after many years apart, with Isaac living in England and Tāne remaining in Aotearoa, New Zealand. Coming together in a rural cabin, where Tui beer flows, whiskey disappears, and a feast is shared, this quickly becomes more than a simple catch-up. In a moving story by Joel Te Teira, secrets and shame surface, challenging their friendship and their connection to the land.

Joe Dekkers-Reihana and Jordan Selwyn generate compelling chemistry on stage. Their performances are naturalistic and deeply authentic, capturing the fractured tenderness of two men whose lives have diverged but whose bond remains intact. Verbal exchanges hit with impact, matched by some dynamic fight choreography by Lyndall Grant. Their dialogue reflects a long familiarity, and the emotional weight each actor brings elevates every scene.

Jenna Suffern on faking it, finding it and performing it | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | Motley Wherehaus

There is a particular kind of delusion required to work in comedy, the sort that tells you to spend money you do not have, back yourself anyway and commit to the bit no matter how unhinged it sounds. For Jenna Suffern, that delusion comes served with a posh accent and the rallying cry of a show that skewers ambition, image and the fine line between confidence and chaos.

"The back story for Lobster In A Glass is that I was at my friend's birthday and I asked them what they wanted to drink. They were taking aggggges to decide so I said in a posh English accent 'what do you want, a bloody lobster in a glass or something?' This then became a bit of a vocal stim for my friend and I and we adopted the mantra of 'fuck it, just order the lobster in a glass'. So when it came time to bring together what the heck this would be about, I realised Lobster In A Glass was perfect since it represents so many different things," she says.

All eyes on Samora Squid: The sideshow daredevil goes solo | Melbourne International Comedy Festival | The Tote

For 25 years, Samora Squid has been twisting, bending, and testing the limits of the human body in sideshows and circus acts around the world. Now, alone for the first time, they’re turning the spotlight fully on themselves in Squid's Sunday Sideshow. Equal parts daring, absurd, and unexpectedly funny, Squid’s solo debut promises a ride where the audience never knows whether to gasp, squirm, or laugh - and often all three at once.

After nearly three decades performing in circus and sideshow nights, it came down to alignment and timing for Squid to finally take the stage on their own. "It was all about opportunity, and simultaneously having the motivation and discipline," they tell me. "I met the right people who were running the right venue, and they gave me a space to present something unusual and original and at the same time that registrations for the Melbourne International Comedy Festival were happening."

Opera for the Dead | 祭歌 review | Arts House

Eight hours before stepping into Opera for the Dead | 祭歌, I had been at a funeral. It was a death that arrives without warning, even after a life well-lived. By the time I entered the space at Art House, the weight of the day had settled in. Rather than wondering how I might react, I found myself acutely aware of the strange symmetry, moving from a real farewell into an immersive exploration on life and death.

Created by Mindy Meng Wang and Monica Lim, the work fuses music, visuals and technology into a contemporary Chinese cyber-opera that is both ancient and strikingly modern. Before the show begins, the audience is gathered into a “waiting room”. Chanting hums through the space, cyclical and meditative, while an electronic sign suspended above us flashes the word REMEMBER, its glow washing over us like a quiet instruction. The atmosphere is deliberate, balanced between worlds.

Hear My Eyes - Terminator 2: Judgment Day review | Arts Centre Melbourne

It’s been roughly 20 years since I last watched Terminator 2. And it's been a decade since I last stepped into a Hear My Eyes presentation, back when they paired Xavier Dolan’s Heartbeats with an amazing live score by Melbourne’s GL. Both unforgettable. Both somehow left sitting in the “I need to revisit that” pile. Well, consider that rectified. Hear My Eyes have resurrected Terminator 2 and strapped it to a live, pulse-rattling score by Belgian electronic heavyweight Peter Van Hoesen. What this evening offers isn't just a rewatch, it’s a complete sensory overhaul. It's a blockbuster icon colliding with brooding, atmospheric techno. Propelled by electronic sound and framed by a laser show, it gives the film a new intensity and presence.

Terminator 2 is a classic, but this isn’t about revisiting it, it’s about the experience Hear My Eyes have built around it, starting with the music. Van Hoesen brings over four decades of expertise to the performance. Generally a solo artist, for this event he is joined by the Melbourne Electronic Sound Studio (MESS) Synthesiser Ensemble, gathered around a purpose-built liquid metal style table, where they, alongside lighting artist Robin Fox, perform and shape the sound and light in real time.