Objective reality is up for grabs. Sarah Pascoe, the ‘always clever and occasionally exquisite’ UK comedian isn’t convinced by the nature of things as they are presented to us. Her MICF show, Sarah Pascoe vs The Truth, is about is an exploration of, alongside other topics, the fact that she can’t imagine being dead, can’t fathom not being conscious. Pascoe’s been thinking about such matters since she was very young. “I used to keep three diaries at once,” she says. “Now most of it goes into stand-up. It’s about separation versus universality, about our individual world view. It’s not preachy or moralistic. The routines are me musing about things…” What wouldn’t Pascoe joke about? “There are some words you can’t say; I’m not saying I don’t think people should say these things, other people do it really well, but there are certain words that elicit a personal response.” Such as? “’Cancer,” she says. “People in the audience would have had some experience of cancer. They have a visceral reaction – they’ve been at someone’s bedside and they get a visual. If you’re going to talk about cancer, your joke better be bloody good.”
Pascoe is sure not to denigrate women’s appearances in her routines. Or anybody’s. “You’re supposed to start a show being derogatory about your own appearance to make everyone else feel comfortable, but you’re still putting women down,” she notes. “You’re contributing to something ugly.” There’s an art to comedy, Pascoe says, and avoiding a certain stance is part of that art. “There are some tired tropes that have been done many times –‘I’m single, I can’t get a bloke’ ‘this is what’s wrong with me’– it’s lazy, well-trodden material.” You might, if you wanted to be unkind, perhaps say that it’s all very well for her – Pascoe is exceedingly pretty, slender and blonde. Is she being disingenuous here? “I’m on the right side of it,” she answers. “It doesn’t matter; beauty can be a prison, anyway, if you rely on your looks as a young woman. The most gorgeous girls are insecure. I’m on the right side of it but I’m not going to present the wrong image, I’m not going to come out in a mac and no make-up saying ‘please don’t think that I think I’m pretty,’ because that’s wrong, too. I shouldn’t be ashamed of how I look.”
Pascoe reckons life just gets better after thirty. “Everything calms down a bit. You stop worrying so much about what boys think of you.” Performing comedy can create a live of extremes, she reckons. “Adrenaline’s an addictive drug. Every gig is scary, new material is scary. But it keeps you liking your job. But once you’ve played the big rooms, been on television, you can plateau. People can get unhappy. Human beings are tribal: for one hour you’re the alpha in the room. But once you leave that room you’re back in real life. Queuing up to buy things, waiting at a train station; there’s a cognitive dissonance. Boys are so pumped after the show and that can translate into a certain need. Watching the boys after their shows – their bodies are pumped up and they think women should be queuing up to sleep with them. And often they are.”
Pascoe would like to write a book if she could take the time out to do it, and she’s just finished writing a play. “I love my life, in terms of stand-up and crafting a show,” she says. “But stand-up is so flippant; I’ve got other things to say that I’d like to say without the pressure of having to do jokes.”
BY LIZA DEZFOULI
Venue: Melbourne Town Hall – Old Met Shop, Cnr Swanston & Collins St, CBD
Dates: Currently playing until April 20 (except Mondays)
Times: 8.30pm (Sundays 7.30pm)
Tickets: $25.50-$33
