In a dark corner of the Bull & Bear Tavern (and I mean that literally: it was dead dark, the only light coming from what I imagined was an incandescent globe probably strapped to something with gaffer tape), a plastic cactus and a cork board with ‘yum’ written over and over occupied prime seats next to the corner pinball machine. The space was small, but it felt dirty and real. The emcee loped out from one of the many dinner chairs, most of which were empty.
‘Ah… let’s get a clap going for the guys,’ he said, as he slowly clapped himself, as if to show us how. We kind of half-clapped, but it was awkward, because emcees usually say, ‘Let’s hear it for [insert name here].’ We thought maybe he was starting a Mexican wave. He wasn’t. He sat down.
Matt Ford came on, and started to tell us things about Brisbane, and his life. Ford was aggressively relaxed. Most of his life seemed to annoy him, and a bit of it was funny – mainly because we could see where he was going, often a long time before the joke finished.
At times, Ford’s commentary was more like being at dinner in Brunswick, Melbourne with a loud, opinionated friend. A lot of his observations were from current events but could have been more original, and more polished. A lot of the bits were about his friends, and how much he didn’t like them. For example, he hated when his friends embraced being bogans and called women ‘bitches’ (but then later he referred to himself as a ‘bag bitch’ at the supermarket).
Some bits – largely the bits he called his ‘crazy ideas’ – were original, pithy, and showed a hell of a lot of potential, perhaps more so than his social commentary.
Angus Gordon came out to more awkward clapping (FYI, the comedian-speak for ‘clap now’ is ‘Thank you, you’ve been a great audience, and I’ve been [insert your name here].’)
Gordon stood rigidly, but somehow exuding more relaxation than Ford, in one spot as if he had been called in front of the principle’s committee. Short one-liners and intelligent cultural references – a few of them over my head, then slowly dawning – came out as if he had sprung a leak.
Obviously a fan of absurdist comedy and a natural at it, Gordon has a juvenile smile that he turns on and off like a spark, immediately controlling the audience, making it his own. It was a smile that could make a depressing piece of performance art about clocks and death suddenly become a joke. Apart from an awkward bit of audience participation at the end, it was a brilliant set. I hope to see Gordon on stage or on the telly some time in the future.
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
I’ll Do Better Next Time
By Matt Ford and Angus Gordon
The Bull & Bear Tavern, Flinders Lane
Melbourne International Comedy Festival
www.comedyfestival.com.
27 March – 20 April
