Geraldine Quinn’s voice can go from an operatic high note to a feminine growl in the space of a few moments, and the comparative contrast between the angelic and the acrid is an apt description of this accomplished comic force’s new show Dumb Things. Maintaining a good balance of both music and the comical anecdotes that inspires it, Quinn (or ‘Geri’, as she referred to herself when vocalizing her often dazzlingly complex internal monologues) opened the show with a rap song about how tough it is to die a dignified death if you’re a famous woman; moving swiftly along to a funnier number about the difficulties of being a fetishist in the recent hot weather; and finishing out the show with a catchy singalong number (unfortunately borrowed from last year’s comedy fest entry Sexdeathbowie) called ‘We’re all fucked, they’re all cunts, and no-one cares’. This last track epitomizes the lightly cynical, misanthropic tone of the show. Geri may harbour a deep suspicion about her fellow humans, but that’s doesn’t mean she can’t make a joke about it.
Interspersed between the songs she weaves a series of personal stories of growing up in Wagga (where as a girl she tried to enlist a random old woman to be her surrogate grandparent) and life in contemporary Melbourne (in which she confronts Robbie Williams-loving bogans who have their portable music players up too loud on the tram by the somewhat unpredictable tactic of loudly reading Vanity Fair to them). Songs and stories aside, what every festival-goer wants to know is: Am I going to laugh? The answer to this is yes, both frequently and loudly, as Quinn keeps the show moving along at a brisk pace, barely able to cram all of her myriad tunes and ideas into the hour.
This show comes recommended. And hey: free badges.
Visit the comedy festival website for bookings and further details