Updated April 6, 2026 — 12:46pm, first published April 3, 2026 — 12:49pm
Hannah Gadsby, The Evening Muse
Malthouse Theatre, until April 19
Hannah Gadsby might strive for the cosy life, but their live gigs have an electric edge. It was there when game-changer Nanette was first unleashed on Melbourne, but if your only exposure is via the filmed version (or other specials since), you’re reading a recipe and thinking you’ve eaten the meal.
Hannah Gadsby performs The Evening Muse at Malthouse Theatre until April 19. Gadsby once walked the breadth of England despite a hatred of, well, walking, and once again a kind of self-pranking has led to the creation of a show that seems destined to fail. The mildly agoraphobic, socially awkward solo performer is hosting a live talk show complete with crowd work, quiz segment and different guests every night. Gadsby’s mastery of the pregnant pause and meaningful silence is a world away from the overstuffed gladhanding of Letterman or DeGeneres, but damn it works.
Easter Sunday’s show had Jenny Tian and He Huang on the couch, with back-up from Abby Wambaugh and a surprise canine companion whose Jesus-y resurrection bit brought down the house. TV execs take note: picking up this show should be a no-brainer. Everyone else? You really want to be in the room while Gadsby cooks.
★★★★★
Reviewed by John Bailey
Sam Nicoresti | Baby Doomer
The Westin, until April 19
“A joke a minute” is a low strike rate for an hour of comedy. Luckily, we have a true professional steering the ship, an alarmingly confident talent that belies Sam Nicoresti’s age.
Sam Nicoresti performs Baby Doomer at The Westin until April 19. The transgressive transgender comedian is in full control of her set from the get-go, bringing up the benign “one laugh per 60 seconds” compliment-not-cliche from a previous review then barbecuing it for the next 59 minutes. She blasts sharp line after line to an adoring crowd, similar to comedy icon Rhys Nicholson’s ratatat success rate.
Perhaps the most tightly written hour of stand-up comedy this year, Nicoresti is at the top of her game. The sassy, acerbic UK comic covers themes such as finding the perfect skirt suit, the difficulties of fitting in as a woman and the undeniable truth that her chosen vocation is autistic.
★★★★★
Reviewed by Mikey Cahill
Emma Holland | The Dog Dies at the Start
Comedy Republic, until April 19
The loss of a pet may not seem like a funny premise to predicate a show on – and to be clear, it’s not – but Emma Holland is a master of mining the absurdity of any experience, chief among them that of profound grief. In her trademark droll fashion, Holland charts the immediate aftermath of her greyhound being put down: a period of 10 days mired in a routine of mind-numbing tasks to distract her from the business of grieving. That she transforms this into a rhythm rap is one of the show’s many highlights.
The Dog Dies at the Start is at Comedy Republic until April 19 Breaking into dance seems to be Holland’s new thing and I can’t complain – one particularly well-timed, self-congratulatory jig brings tears to my eyes after an unexpected punchline that flourishes in the split-second of anticipation between misdirection and reveal. Subverting the audience’s expectations is indeed what Holland does best, whether she’s interjecting jokes with her hilarious slideshow, leaning on old aphorisms, bounding around the room taunting the audience about something inconsequential, or revelling in an immaculately calibrated callback.
There are many beautiful moments that serve as metaphors for grief, whether it’s Holland rearranging her set’s furniture to illustrate the chasm of loss, or her literal reimagining of a “canary in a coalmine”. But the fact that Holland has crafted such a riotous show while honouring the memory of her sweet dog Teddy is perhaps the most impressive part of all.
★★★★
Reviewed by Sonia Nair
Sam Jay | We the People
Melbourne Town Hall – Cloak Room, until April 19
Sam Jay is a “triple minority”, she tells us more than once, “black, gay and a woman”. But she’s not parading her exceptionalism, merely saying “so what”. Everyone’s a bit weird, a bit different – “there should be a spectrum of the spectrum,” she suggests – but instead of making differences the focus, we should be looking for what binds us. That, she argues in this very funny tour through some of the biggest issues of our times, is the only way out of our current and very real malaise.
We the People is at Melbourne Town Hall until April 19 Her material is free-ranging, touching on her own dyslexia, alien abductions (a hilarious bit about the “f–ked farmers” phenomenon of the 1990s), the pace of change demanded by trans rights activists and the inevitable resistance to it from bull-punching rodeo riders in Texas, and a visit to England in which she reels at the sight of her first white ladybits (“raw”, she judges them, “like tartare”).
It’s a remarkable set that deflates righteousness and anger on both sides of the political divide, and manages the near impossible task of making a journey to common ground via laughter seem not only desirable but actually possible.
★★★★
Reviewed by Karl Quinn
Annie Boyle | To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before
Melbourne Town Hall, until April 19
You’re going to need a drink after seeing
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