Did you hear the one about the girl on the bus with a dead squirrel? Sydney Comedy Fest kick off
By Cassie Tongue, James Jennings and Daniel Herborn
COMEDY
Catherine Bohart: Again, With Feelings ★★★★
Factory Theatre, April 24. Until April 28
Reviewed by Daniel Herborn
A couple of years ago, Irish comedian Catherine Bohart found herself alone on a London bus, nursing a broken heart and clutching a dead squirrel. Why the squirrel? Well, that’s a long story, but one that Bohart relays in her debut Sydney Comedy Festival show in an endlessly entertaining, digressive style.
Sydney Comedy Festival 2024 guest Catherine Bohart.
Bohart is now in a new relationship (she’s always in a new one, she explains), giving hope to her parents, who find it scandalous she’s unmarried and doesn’t have children at age 35. Her girlfriend is in her late twenties (“When I date a younger woman, that’s feminism. When men do it, it’s disgusting,” she quips), meaning she has had to get reacquainted with sharehouse living, inspiring riffs on “foraged” crockery and an alarming detour about a persistent bad smell in her partner’s lodgings.
Things are going well enough that she starts thinking about having children, prompting gag-filled trains of thought about how she might cope with pregnancy and how a child would change the dynamics of her relationship. The tone throughout is perfectly judged – tackling weighty life decisions but always foregrounding the funny.
There’s an appealing candour to Bohart’s storytelling. Though she describes herself as a “stressy gal”, she makes this energy work for her, coming across like a friend who is breathlessly enthusiastic to tell you the juiciest gossip she’s just heard.
While her writing is polished and consistently strong, Bohart also excels in off-the-cuff moments; her crowd work builds on her impish charm and quick wit, not least when she’s quizzing a family in the audience about their opinions on sperm banks.
Oh, and the squirrel? Don’t worry; she gets back to that, but as ever in Again, With Feelings, the conclusion of a yarn is never the point; it’s just a springboard into another hilarious anecdote.
The Sydney Comedy Festival is on until May 10.
MUSIC
JAMES TAYLOR ★★★
Darling Harbour Theatre, ICC, April 23
Reviewed by James Jennings
Battling drug addiction, male prostitutes and convicts: heavy subject matter that you’d imagine would result in dark, edgy music from a Norwegian black metal band. But in the hands of American singer-songwriter James Taylor, they’re used as inspiration for gentle folk/soft rock songs that your none-the-wiser grandparents would happily tap their feet along to while making their morning cuppa.
James Taylor in concert at the ICC in Sydney. Credit: Janie Barrett
Said grandparents are out in full force for the first of Taylor’s two Sydney shows – this one a sellout – and details like the ones above are revealed via humorous stories peppered throughout this night’s performance, with the spritely, incredibly likeable Taylor, 76, displaying the impeccable comic timing of a stand-up comedian.
The witty anecdotes and laughs they elicit are in stark contrast to the actual songs being played: largely mid-tempo and amiable to the point that they all become a bit uniform, a beige bath of sound that’s comforting but not particularly memorable.
This, of course, will be complete heresy to Taylor’s fans, of which there are many. In addition to this night’s adoring crowd, Taylor has sold more than 100 million albums, won multiple Grammys and been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
That kind of huge success typically doesn’t come from being an edgy provocateur, with Taylor’s popular brand of easy listening music designed for the masses – specifically those who like their tunes breezy and unchallenging – but not anyone who requires even the slightest hint of grit to be engaged.
So, breezy and unchallenging it is, with the stream of AM radio hits that are played – Sweet Baby James, Fire and Rain, covers of How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You) and You’ve Got a Friend – all going down a treat with the grit-averse audience.
The songs are played faithfully by Taylor’s All-Star Band, a collection of crack musicians and back-up singers who are occasionally given leave passes from the waves of soft rock via a spirited blues workout (Steamroller), some reggae-lite (Sun on the Moon) and Jimmy Buffett-style yacht rock (Mexico).
Taylor commenting that a second set arriving after an intermission will be “perfectly adequate” says everything about the show for anyone other than dyed-in-the-wool James Taylor fans: some decent gags from a charming performer mixed with songs that are like staring at clouds: a pleasant enough experience, but not something likely to stay with you long afterwards.
THEATRE
Tell Me on a Sunday ★★★
Hayes Theatre, April 18 until May 12
Reviewed by Cassie Tongue
If you have a long memory for musical theatre, you might know Tell Me on a Sunday.
Erin Clare in Tell Me on a Sunday at the Hayes Theatre. Credit: John McRae
Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine Andrew Lloyd Webber (The Phantom of the Opera, Cats) making something as small as this one-woman show about searching for love from 1979 but, then, it was collaborator’s Tim Rice’s idea initially – though an infidelity scandal saw Rice out and Don Black in as lyricist.
Locally, it might be best remembered as part of Song and Dance, the Cameron Mackintosh production that paired it with a ballet set to Lloyd Webber’s Variations, playing Australia in 1983.
Forty years later, The Girl (of course, the unnamed woman in a show by two men from the 1970s is called simply “The Girl”) has returned in a new production, directed by Blazey Best.
Played by Erin Clare, The Girl is alone on a small platform stage. She’s surrounded by the band who are dressed (delightfully) in period costume. This helps establish time and place on the minimalist set, thankfully – a show without much dialogue relies on its design for context clues – and gives us a framework through which to consider the work.
Erin Clare is alone on a small platform stage, surrounded by the band who are dressed (delightfully) in period costume at Hayes Theatre’s latest production.Credit: John McRae
And this is a work that really does make the most sense in its own time. The Girl has only a few lines that aren’t about, or informed by, a man – the show is about her, but we know so little about who she really is on her own.
Clare is charming and elegant, at her most sincerely poignant in the title number, but in a one-woman show without dialogue, we need a performer that will confide in the audience; as a co-conspirator with us, The Girl would have much more dimensionality and personality.
After all, it’s 2024 – contemporary audiences are less likely to need to experience a journey to accept The Girl’s value and worth without a partner, and we want to know her from the jump. That we never get to go too deep here feels like a real loss.
Still, the show finds ways to honours its original setting: Guy Simpson’s musical supervision provides a lively ’70s blueprint for music director David Gardos and band, and Best keeps her eyes on the show’s biggest prize: the narrative and lyrical motifs that guide The Girl towards self-love. That’s not a new resolution, but Best finds the sweetness of nostalgia in it. It’s a re-discovery and a reminder: you can always choose yourself.
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