As I write this, my bloodstream is still volatile with the alcohol from the two glasses of wine I downed to help me get through Party Banana. They weren’t free, either; it’s a cash bar. I recommend budgeting an extra $10 on top of the ticket cost to cover the necessary mild inebriation.
Possibly this is because, on an unremarkable Thursday evening, I would otherwise have stayed in my pyjamas and watched an iView documentary about ducks. Instead, I found myself at the world’s most awkward gallery opening; the kind where you don’t know why you’re there, you’re making brittle, glossy conversation with strangers in an attempt to wring fun from the situation, everyone seems to know everyone else, the art is dreadful and the booze costs money. At least, at this gallery opening, you’re allowed to laugh at how bad the art is. Audience participation is compulsory, and not particularly light work. And, like a gallery opening, do not go solo.
There are two ways of mocking art: from without, and from within. Party Banana is all about mocking art from within. This is a send-up of artists that clearly spends a lot of time benevolently putting up with people who take their practice far too seriously. That said, as far as piss-take goes, beyond a few sharp and funny punchlines, it’s all pretty humdrum.
‘Party Banana’ is the new art-space-recording-studio-
Party Banana suffers from too much improv and not enough direction. The audience stands around for large swathes of time, awkwardly making conversation with their friends, a bunch of strangers, and, if they’re lucky, a performer being mildly amusing. I think this might be the first time in my life I’ve ever suggested that a work has insufficient stupid audience participation, but a few daft bonding exercises might at least have given us something to talk about. The ‘art’ scattered around the room is, by and large, a one-joke pony and not funny enough to generate conversation for more than a couple of minutes. (Though I did like ‘Milk Crate And Psoriasis Cream’.)
Possibly this is because, on an unremarkable Thursday evening, I would otherwise have stayed in my pyjamas and watched an iView documentary about ducks. Instead, I found myself at the world’s most awkward gallery opening; the kind where you don’t know why you’re there, you’re making brittle, glossy conversation with strangers in an attempt to wring fun from the situation, everyone seems to know everyone else, the art is dreadful and the booze costs money. At least, at this gallery opening, you’re allowed to laugh at how bad the art is. Audience participation is compulsory, and not particularly light work. And, like a gallery opening, do not go solo.
There are two ways of mocking art: from without, and from within. Party Banana is all about mocking art from within. This is a send-up of artists that clearly spends a lot of time benevolently putting up with people who take their practice far too seriously. That said, as far as piss-take goes, beyond a few sharp and funny punchlines, it’s all pretty humdrum.
‘Party Banana’ is the new art-space-recording-studio-
Party Banana suffers from too much improv and not enough direction. The audience stands around for large swathes of time, awkwardly making conversation with their friends, a bunch of strangers, and, if they’re lucky, a performer being mildly amusing. I think this might be the first time in my life I’ve ever suggested that a work has insufficient stupid audience participation, but a few daft bonding exercises might at least have given us something to talk about. The ‘art’ scattered around the room is, by and large, a one-joke pony and not funny enough to generate conversation for more than a couple of minutes. (Though I did like ‘Milk Crate And Psoriasis Cream’.)
The staged sections were more successful, crammed with self-mocking lines and quite a few laughs. But the performers don’t interact well together; they overact awkwardly like they’re playing their first game of SpaceJump and this whole ‘You’re at an art space opening’ schtick just popped into someone’s head fifteen seconds ago. It’s all a bit random and hammy and obvious.
Of course, as someone who actually spends time in the world being sent up in crayon drawing by Party Banana, it may be that my standards for satire demand a bit more incisive subtlety; if you don’t spend a lot of time talking srsly about art, you’ll probably find this no less scrappy and confusing, but you might find it funnier.Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
Party Banana
Written and Performed by Elizabeth Davie, Kieran Bullock, Glenn Luck, Hannah Camilleri, Genelle Lentini, James Rosier and Molly McKew.
Melbourne Natural Wellness, Level 4, 178 Collins St
Melbourne International Comedy Festival
www.comedyfestival.com.au
27 March – 20 April
