David O’Doherty : Big Time
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David O’Doherty : Big Time

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“The UK has left the EU, so all of the stability that came post-war has been completely thrown into jeopardy. No one knows what’s going to happen next. It wouldn’t be all that surprising if the currency collapsed or something like that. Everyone will be walking around with wheelbarrows filled with money in order to pay for milk.

When I started writing this show, there were jokes about Pokemon Go and selfie sticks. Now, noone gives a shit about any of it. The vibe is just constantly like, ‘We might die!’ There’s no Pikachu to be found in this show.”

Comics like O’Doherty know better than anyone about the catch-22 that arises when attempting to perform comedy in hard times. Do you disconnect entirely from it in order to keep the performance as an escape; or do you hold up a mirror through your medium and remind audiences of the world outside? O’Doherty’s solution is to do both – but within reason. “The interesting part is in the tension, and how you figure it out,” he says.

 

“I love making stupid jokes more than anything, but you have to put it in the right context for people. Humans have always responded to bleakness by laughing. You know that bit in Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, where they come up from the bunker and everyone’s dead? They just start laughing, because they don’t know how else to process it.

“It’s an integral part of human nature. It’s what we do. There’s definitely a place for stupid jokes and for laughing in times like this.”

It’s anyone’s guess exactly how Big Time will end up by the time that O’Doherty arrives in Australia for his umpteenth Melbourne International Comedy Festival. All we know is that O’Doherty will still be standing, laughing at the wreckage in Dresden. “I’ve been getting a roll of carpet tape and writing ‘hopefully’ in big letters behind me on stage,” he says.

“The first night of the tour was at this beautiful music hall, and it was really hot. The lights obviously didn’t help, so over the course of the show the lights melted away the glue in the tape. Hope was literally collapsing behind me. At the end of the show, only the E and the F were left in the middle – and they had melted into a shape that one could only describe as a swastika. Naturally, the tone of a show changes pretty drastically when you go from a symbol of hope to a symbol of hatred.”

By David James Young

Venue: Forum Theatre – Upstairs 

Dates: Thursday March 30 – Sunday April 23 (bar Mondays)

Duration: 60 minutes

Tickets: $32 – $39.70 

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