Mark “Chopper” Read was one of the most popular criminals of recent times, gladdening his no frills, cheeky persona with universal tattoos and a set of handlebars rivalling the pair which get me to and from work every day. Read both intimidated and bedazzled; he disturbed but also educated – so you weren’t naïve to believe an impersonation effort was doomed to fail. Nonetheless, Logie Award-nominated comedian Heath Franklin knew he could grow the ‘stache, flaunt the beer-belly and manipulate the lisp to portray the gangland mastermind, but did he have the dogma and conceit to deliver the caricature?
A “fuck yeah” is followed by a “fucking hell” as Chopper guides his way through the last decade of Australian politics: the antithesis of the Republic of Anzakistan. A “revolving door of Prime Ministers” was piloted by Australia’s “albino dad” (Kevin Rudd) and passed onto our very own “ginger baby” (Julia Gillard). Now we are governed by a gentleman who makes us feel as though we are being “farted at by a thesaurus”. It’s only early on in the show but the audience is already led to believe they would have a brighter future under Chopper’s reign.
A shrewd jab at Australian politics to begin the show and the Athenaeum Theatre is perfectly poised to consume Chopper’s astute vision for his own republic. The insignia-laden army blazer and forage cap he wore charging down the central walkway to sound his entrance has been disrobed, but the aviators remain as he refuses to shed all of his ‘Chopper’ identity. Within Chopper’s republic, Scotty Cam DIY wannabes are not welcomed because their fantastical dreams of building a bird house are only “making a bird homeless for a week”, while cyclists are suggested to look elsewhere because they’re only deafening the population with the “clickity-clack” of their shoes.
Australians have always been romanticised for their laid back, blasé outlook on life but Chopper suggests we consider the New Zealand code of social functionality before stepping inside the Anzakistan republic. While Kiwis don’t really exist because they’re only “tennis balls with a beak”, Chopper feels the political stability within the nation, in contrast to Australia, has pacified the people to the point that it feels like you’re having a conversation with a pothead whenever you communicate with a “Zealander”.
Vegans and paleo dieters may find life difficult in Anzakistan, but if you live by the motto of,“yeah nah, fuck ‘em, good on ‘em”, then you’re going to fit in just fine. In fact, the orchestral melodies of a traditional national anthem are set to be overthrown and replaced by the vehement adage. Gracing the wobbly Athenaeum lectern, Chopper concludes with his Anzakistan ‘promises’ and then suddenly we find ourselves marching out of the theatre on Choppers tail to the chant of “yeah nah, fuck ‘em, good on ‘em” to signify the beginning of a new era. A truly un-Chopperlike but Chopperlike show at the same time, a comedy set leaving the audience hypnotised by one’s methodical vision to brazen the universe.
BY TOM PARKER
