Patchy moments in Laugh! Festival's opening feast of wit

By GRAHAM REID

AOTEA CENTRE, Auckland - This annual smorgasbord of the witterati is invariably patchy: given little more than three minutes to showcase their wares some comics find it hard to hit their pace, especially if their humour, like that of Andrew Clay, is of the anecdotal kind.

Telling a story that eats into a third of your time means that the punchline had better be very, very good. And certainly last night more than a few crawled their way to a disappointing payoff.

MC Jeremy Corbett hit a target early, however, when he quipped that MC stood for master of ceremonies, "although, given recent events, I have to declare I've only got a diploma".

And then came Craig Campbell - from Canada.

Swinging a bottle, his dry opening one-liners ("Ever sewn a guy to a couch?") led into weird anecdotes and, although he made the customary sheep joke, he turned it around adeptly: "Anyone can shag a sheep, moose have to like ya." He's one to see.

So is Londoner Simon Evans, whose measured, tart observations and self-deprecating wit crackled with wry sarcasm and some natty jibes.

Less successful was Peter Bergman of America's famous Firesign Theatre, who misjudged our sophistication (yes, we travel so don't find much humour in crossing the dateline and losing a day). But because of his credentials you suspect once he reads more on local events (as witnessed by his asides about former Maori TV head John Davy) he'll be on the money.

Of the locals, Brendhan Lovegrove - who pulled punches for the telecast - was again outstanding and offensive, Benjamin Crellin delivered a well-received set about women in Hawkes Bay, P-Funk Chainsaw (kind of gangsta WWF) was very funny, and Tarun Mohanbhai did some natty reverse-race jibes about Caucasians.

Rhys D'Arby's "physical" comedy went down like a lead wonton (too slow, not physical enough) but the three-piece of Gary had most people - once they realised what was happening - hooting at their deliberately bad jokes delivered with a faux nervousness and rewarded by gunshots.

Flight of the Conchords - an earnest folk duo singing a Lord of the Rings offering ("Frodo, don't put on the ring!") - looked very promising, but Raybon Kan, Paul Ego and Jan Maree fell short of expectation under the constraints of time.

The act many came for was Australia's Puppetry of the Penis, whose full-frontal genital contortions and gymnastics were plain outrageous, and not a little courageous. It does have to be seen to be believed - but would it play in Reykjavik?

So, as expected the gala was patchy. But as a showcase of some of the talent around over the next three weeks there was more than enough - even without the Rugby World Cup and Mr Davy references - to ensure some pretty sore sides and well-slapped knees around.





Sidebar1:

Caption1: STANDOUT COMIC: Brendhan Lovegrove.


Dinkus1: IN SHORT

Body1: This annual smorgasbord of the witterati is invariably patchy: given little more than three minutes to showcase their wares some comics find it hard to hit their pace, especially if their humour, like that of Andrew Clay, is of the anecdotal kind.

Telling a story that eats into a third of your time means that the punchline had better be very, very good. And certainly last night more than a few crawled their way to a disappointing payoff.

MC Jeremy Corbett hit a target early, however, when he quipped that MC stood for master of ceremonies, "although, given recent events, I have to declare I've only got a diploma".

And then came Craig Campbell - from Canada.

Swinging a bottle, his dry opening one-liners ("Ever sewn a guy to a couch?") led into weird anecdotes and, although he made the customary sheep joke, he turned it around adeptly: "Anyone can shag a sheep, moose have to like ya." He's one to see.

So is Londoner Simon Evans, whose measured, tart observations and self-deprecating wit crackled with wry sarcasm and some natty jibes.

Less successful was Peter Bergman of America's famous Firesign Theatre, who misjudged our sophistication (yes, we travel so don't find much humour in crossing the dateline and losing a day). But because of his credentials you suspect once he reads more on local events (as witnessed by his asides about former Maori TV head John Davy) he'll be on the money.

Of the locals, Brendhan Lovegrove - who pulled punches for the telecast - was again outstanding and offensive, Benjamin Crellin delivered a well-received set about women in Hawkes Bay, P-Funk Chainsaw (kind of gangsta WWF) was very funny, and Tarun Mohanbhai did some natty reverse-race jibes about Caucasians.

Rhys D'Arby's "physical" comedy went down like a lead wonton (too slow, not physical enough) but the three-piece of Gary had most people - once they realised what was happening - hooting at their deliberately bad jokes delivered with a faux nervousness and rewarded by gunshots.

Flight of the Conchords - an earnest folk duo singing a Lord of the Rings offering ("Frodo, don't put on the ring!") - looked very promising, but Raybon Kan, Paul Ego and Jan Maree fell short of expectation under the constraints of time.

The act many came for was Australia's Puppetry of the Penis, whose full-frontal genital contortions and gymnastics were plain outrageous, and not a little courageous. It does have to be seen to be believed - but would it play in Reykjavik?

So, as expected the gala was patchy. But as a showcase of some of the talent around over the next three weeks there was more than enough - even without the Rugby World Cup and Mr Davy references - to ensure some pretty sore sides and well-slapped knees around.