You know when you go into something knowing exactly what to expect?

Well, that was me going to David O’Doherty’s new show. I know I find him very, very amusing. I know he’ll sit on the chair on the stage with his cute little keyboard and play songs at times, and stand on the stage and do more traditional stand-up at times, and it’ll all be good.

But in case you didn’t know any of these factors, you now do. Also, just to clarify, I don’t mean that getting what I expected was a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. The jokes were all new and the songs were new too, but the show itself felt familiar, like going to a place you haven’t been in ages and thinking: that’s right, this place is cool. I should come here more often.

I knew that I was going to enjoy the show and how it would probably play out. That said, I can sometimes be incredibly hard on something based purely on the fact that I had high expectations going in, but not in this instance. D O’D didn’t disappoint.

O’Doherty began with a song about how hard life is, and despite the subject matter it got a lot of laughs. The rest of the show is basically about O’Doherty tumbling into a depression after a relationship break-up and how he eventually got himself out of this funk. There are few mentions of things unrelated to this topic, although he does regale the crowd with the tale of how he got the Visa stamp that means he can do shows in America.

When I first saw O’Doherty several years ago I was surprised how much of the show is just like a regular stand-up gig: the musical comedy isn’t always its main focus. I think this is a definite plus for him because some people find musical comedy a bit hit-and-miss, but with his show there’s enough pure comedy without music to keep those people interested. It also proves that he has more going for him than a kids’ keyboard as a gimmick.

For this particular show, O’Doherty delivers material on the tired topic of heartache in his own charming little way that makes it seem fresh. O’Doherty’s take on even the most mundane things can be hilarious so there’s certainly much for him to mine from this particular theme. There’s no real crowd interaction until he calls for requests at the end because the show itself is quite tightly planned. This isn’t a bad thing, and I don’t really know where he’d fit crowd interaction in – I wouldn’t want anything that was in the show to go.

At the end of the show he offered to pose in people’s stupid photos and sign their stupid tickets and this wasn’t a sales pitch as he wasn’t selling anything, he just seemed like a nice guy willing to meet his fans.

Anyone who was in the Adelaide CBD Wednesday evening can tell you of the torrential downpour forcing people to have umbrellas at the ready, but the turnout for O’Doherty’s magic was still very solid, indicating that I’m obviously not the only fan in town. Also, that anyone keen to see this show should get a ticket quick-sticks, that’s if there’s any left.

When I said to my boyfriend, ‘Do you wanna come see Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre with me?’ I could see that he didn’t really want to but after taking the chance and coming along he was glad he’d done so. It was a weird and wonderful show proving itself to be funny, silly and enjoyable. It would definitely not be for everyone, and you can probably tell if you’d like it or not just by considering whether you’d want to see it based solely on the name.

So, on Monday night we walked into the Campanile and the song that greeted us was ‘We will rock you’… except on closer listen it was actually We will sock you’. I was already giggling a little just at this; it wasn’t really that funny but it was a silly gag and it warmed me up for what was to come. We sat down and waited, and when the show began we met two sock puppet characters, somewhat akin to Pinky and the Brain; one is the straight man, the brain of the pair and the other is Pinky the comic relief. Unfortunately, the characters didn’t have names, a missed opportunity for hilarity. The two bicker and taunt each other all night, with threats like ‘you’re going down like a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest’, being thrown around willy- nilly.

The show unfolds as a mix of songs, and then various little sketches of things like a period drama a la Downton Abbey, musicals that the crowd called out, TV shows and films, which were pronounced ‘fill-ems’. Basically, no form of pop culture is safe from a gag at the hands of Kev F. Sutherland the man behind the eccentricity that is Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre.

It didn’t always quite find its mark, sometimes due to cross-cultural references that weren’t recognised by all in the audience, but it did have me chortling like mad at most parts – even doing that silent laugh where you’re shaking too much to attain your proper air supply (or something, I don’t really know what causes the silent laugh). There was something charming about the whole set that felt like it was someone having a red-hot go with an act that they obviously enjoy doing. If you had the definition of pretentious at one end of a spectrum, Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre would be at the other end entirely. And my use of the word spectrum would be bumping right up against the pretentious end.

As I said earlier, it wouldn’t be for everyone and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who takes things too seriously as you certainly don’t walk out of the show ruminating on the meaning of life. But I did walk away with a smile on my face.

Before I end this review I feel obliged to say ‘insert corny sock removal pun here’. Something like, ‘See it, you’ll laugh your socks off’ will do. And if you think you know what Michael Jackson’s best song was, or the lyrics to said song, check this show out. You’ll be in for a treat and a learning experience.

The concept of Mindblown is pretty awesome and a little strange for a Fringe show.  Basically, you might be sitting having a drink at a venue in the vicinity of Adelaide and be approached by one of three young men who will attempt to blow your mind with some pretty suave up-close magic. There will be no rabbits and no hats in sight, just many baffling displays of coolness and sleight of hand. In various locations and all for free it isn’t surprising to see people responding warmly to Mindblown.

Magic is a strange pastime for someone in this day and age but Tarrant can still remember being a kid in ‘97 when his dad took him to see Rudy Coby, a kitschy 90s magician who dressed as a mad scientist and whose neon doorframe clip on youtube is worth a look, if only for the song.

Having someone perform for you personally is a unique and enjoyable experience, particularly when it isn’t just your usual tricks with cards. I picked a card and gave it back to the magician, he then somehow morphed the back of the cards so when laid out in order they showed the Mona Lisa, and the big reveal? The lovely Lisa holding the 9 of spades, which was the very card I’d picked out. Awesome. This was a fun trick too as just before we were talking about magic as an art-form and how few people today view it as such.

Seb He and Tom McMahon are the other two members of the act. Tarrant claims that they are the better close-up magicians, but says that his stage show, which he plans to take on the road in the future, is pretty good.  All three guys have to be a bit ballsy for their show to work. One of the best things about it is that it’s a really good introduction to the Fringe for people who wouldn’t normally go see something, and as it’s free there is nothing for someone to lose by rocking up to one of the venues (and there are a few of them). Before seeing the show I wondered if it was like a free walking tour overseas where they basically try to guilt you in to paying at the end. Thankfully, this is not the case. If you’ve enjoyed the show the best way for you to thank them is to log on to the Talkfringe site and give them your vote for best act. This is something that is working for them as they are currently, and deservedly, winning this competition.

The other great thing about the act is that there is the chance for personal interaction with the performers, something that most Fringe shows do not offer, in such relaxed circumstances. It isn’t like you’re sitting in a theatre watching someone known for having audience participation and just hoping that they don’t actually call you up for embarrassment in front of a crowd. Because you’re just chilling with your friends if there’s a question you want to ask there’s no need to feel scared to ask it; there’s no large crowd of strangers in front of whom to be embarrassed.

There is a thriving subculture of magicians the world over according to Tarrant, with big scenes in America and Europe, and to a lesser extent here in Australia. One of the aims of the show is for them to promote magic as something that’s still relevant today and that it’s not just about the cutting the lady in half gags that people do think of when they think of magic.

Some people do try to pick their tricks apart but I preferred just to watch and be impressed. Sometimes it’s more fun to believe in the magic than to figure out how it works. If you haven’t been to much for the Fringe this year, why not pop down to the pub with some mates and see Mindblown in action. It’s completely free and if you don’t like the tricks, you still get some beer. Dates and venues available on the Mindblown site, and if you do get along and enjoy the magic, why not give the guys your vote and help them take their show on the road.

Ross Noble is a very funny but strange and weird guy. His description of himself as a deranged scarecrow is probably as close as you’d get to an apt description of  his appearance. One of my friends said that she finds him too manic, too energetic, too over the top to deal with, but I personally don’t find this to be the case. That said, seeing his show is certainly tiring. Your face and stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and for one lady sitting across the aisle from me, an oxygen mask falling from the ceiling to help her breathe probably wouldn’t have been amiss.

His stage backdrop is pretty interesting and I suppose the easiest way to sum up the show is by saying that the images in the publicity shots are pretty much what you get: a bizarre assortment of things that spring from the weird and wonderful mind of Mr Ross Noble on the night.

The lemon-coloured polos of security staff at Thebarton Theatre created quite a long off-road section at the beginning of the show, and when he brought up his experience in a restaurant here in Adelaide he rapidly got veered off topic. It took all the rest of the first half and part of the second half to get back to the story.

His humour is largely spontaneous, very little seems like it could be part of a plan. Anything that could be seen as part of the show’s general plan Noble quickly links back to various other sections of the night’s proceedings that you know must have been impromptu. For example, I’m sure he didn’t plan on someone leaving him some smiley fritz on the stage during the intermission, and I’m equally sure he didn’t plan on putting it on his face like a mask until just moments before he did so.

He also dangled said smiley fritz, into the face of a woman in the crowd while singing about making love to her. Then he asked to borrow her sunglasses, put the fritz back on his face and the sunglasses over the top and danced around claiming that now he had the mobility he required. Upon trying to return the sunglasses he was mortified to discover that the woman did not want them back as she is a Muslim. He felt really terrible, apologised and offered her some free merchandise and to reimburse her for the sunnies.

I should also point out the educational nature of his show: if you’d like to learn about throwing urine on koalas, you should have been there Friday. As this conversation too came from a gift left on stage, it’s unlikely to come up again unless someone leaves a koala for him at every interval.

The show would be very different from night to night, but things covered include ‘the leg with the most twitter followers’ at the Oscars with an interpretation twist, or twisted interpretation perhaps I should say, and his musings on his human child. His use of the word human before child made me wonder – what other kind of children does he have?  Noble himself wonders about things like why we turn our heads to the side when we’re slightly confused about something, and what exactly we think this will achieve. He also doesn’t stay still for more than five seconds at a time. My Nan would’ve said he has ants in his pants.

His show really lives up to its title offering an overload of nonsense. He also took us on a journey into the lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody, gave us a very bizarre look at how a man might make a lovely cup of tea for his lady-friend with his testicles but warned of the dangers of lulling said lady-friend into a hypnotic state should the movement be too rhythmic.

I have the sinking suspicion that this is all sounding very weird and in a way it was, but that isn’t to say it wasn’t all very funny too, which it was. I guess you just had to be there … and if you weren’t maybe you should get yourself a ticket to an upcoming show of his? I know you want to know how to hurl urine at koalas and make tea with your balls or acquire similar necessary skill-sets.

His brand of comedy may not be for everyone. It’s a belly-laugh inducing kind rather than the kind greeted with a smattering of polite applause and murmured comments including the words witty and very droll. And quite a lot of it is firmly placed in the oh-so-funny but oh-so-wrong category. He even noted this, impressed with our capability to laugh and clap at a joke while also making grunts of disapproval. But if there are many things I disapprove of, having too much of Ross Noble’s brand of nonsense is not one of them.

Two lamps cast a dim glow across the stage as we enter the theatre. Somewhere out of view a flickering light creates a slightly menacing feel to the set, although maybe that’s because I know what the play is about. We are presented with a kitchen, and a bed with a chair alongside it. There is a bedside table with one of two lamps and a mug next to it, and beside the bed is a drip and the pole it is attached to. These ‘rooms’ are separated by a strip of carpet with planks of wood that indicate doorways and walls.

At the end of this strip of carpet there’s a cupboard with a phone, the other lamp and a framed photograph of Paul Sheldon on it, along with several books including the Misery series. This cupboard is in the hallway.

A video begins to play of Paul Sheldon delivering a speech to his fans. The speech ends in rapturous applause which raises to a deafening level before changing into the sound of a car horn. A hunched silhouette sits in the chair next to the bed and a figure is asleep in the bed. The lights come on and we meet our two characters. Joanne Hartstone as Annie Wilkes and John Maurice as Paul Sheldon.

Annie Wilkes is Paul Sheldon’s self-proclaimed number one fan. As Paul shudders awake in the bed Annie forces him to suck painkillers off her finger. When we see the look of erotic pleasure cross her face at this close contact we know that this is not an ordinary situation. Annie is not the good Samaritan she tries to pass herself off as and Paul is in big trouble.

By now, most people seeing the show will know the basic story, or at least about the most famous scene. But this performance is based upon the book not the film, and there are a few differences.

The basic story is as follows: Paul Sheldon, famous author of the ‘Misery’ series of novels, crashes his car. Annie Wilkes finds him and takes him back to her house to be nursed back to health. But upon reading his latest work she discovers that he kills the Misery character off, something of which she does not approve. Annie decides to have him resurrect the character. But he can’t just pretend  she survives the events of the last book and change what he’s already written. That would be a cheat, and make him a ‘dirty birdy’, and now Annie can not have that. It’s not fair. Paul is left to concoct a story that explains away those events but  which also doesn’t pretend as though they didn’t happen.

Running for over two hours it is remarkable how quickly that time goes as you’re immersed into the dysfunctional world of Annie and Paul. Sometimes there seems to be a genuine warmth between the two characters, at others there is only fear and power on display. The psychotic mood swings of Annie are played to perfection by Hartstone. In the first act Maurice is given very little to play but considering he is confined to a bed with little to act but pain he does exceedingly well.

After the intermission the set has seen a shift; we now have a desk with a typewriter on it at the front. This makes me hopeful that we’ll see some more from Paul in this act. Seeing Annie sitting in the wheelchair drizzling honey onto her tongue from a knife while listening to Paul read to her from his new Misery story is disturbing, to say the least.

Maurice indeed is given more to play in this act. His building frustration and his turn to a mild madness as he thinks of poisoning Annie, or setting a fire while she’s out show us just how desperate he becomes and he does well with this solid material.

Hartstone said on reprising the role after a sold-out session at the Bakehouse last Fringe, ‘it was really interesting … when you come back to a show the character and the story settle down in you… in some ways it’s more intense and a lot harder to step away from… you get so immersed in what you’re doing.’

It would be easy to play Annie with no depth, but Hartstone does not do this. She notes an awareness of Kathy Bates’s performance but emphasises the play is based on the book and how she came to know the character through  this medium. She says of the character, ‘she is really damaged… she’s really done some horrible things… and yet she’s still a human being with wants and needs and she’s trapped by her own thoughts and the emotions that run through her body that she can’t control.’ It is an absolute pleasure to watch the rapid fire changes of Hartstone as she moves through the spectrum of emotions jumping from happiness to anger, or frustration to sadness rapidly and with believability.

Hartstone also commented on her commitment to bringing the best quality theatre to Adelaide, and not just importing but also exporting some of our fabulous talent, as she believes that in terms of theatre ‘Adelaide should be acknowledged for being on the international playing field.’  Now, with plans to tour this show, interstate readers should keep their eyes peeled for when it hits their city.

Basically, you should go see this show, you don’t want to be a dirty birdy and make Annie mad now, do you?

So Stephen K Amos thinks we all have an agenda. He believes these agendas are formed in various ways by our parents, where we grow up, and many other details in our lives. This is the basic idea his new show revolves around. His agenda, as advertised, is laughter. Having only seen him on TV in small doses before, I wasn’t sure what to expect from a full-length show. Quite a lot of it was audience interaction and when a heckler came up with a quick-witted comment relevant to the show Amos was quick to show his appreciation commenting, ‘That’s fucking hilarious. I wish I’d said that.’

He began the sold-out show by discussing the political leadership challenge that was all over the press on his arrival here, comparing it to the topic the media was so concerned about last time he was in the country just after the Queensland floods: that there were no bananas! Like many comedians he does his research. He really seems to know his stuff about Australia and Adelaide. We were also a test crowd he informed us. He had a sheet of paper with jokes that were getting the tick of approval to remain in the show or not depending on how big a laugh they received. Or he said he was. And even though this joke continued all through the show it kept earning laughs. It seemed the majority of the new jokes were staying.

Then we were onto his childhood. Being half Nigerian and half English was something that he spoke about, as was his family. He touched upon his parents comparing his career as a comedian with his brother’s as a scientist and them thinking that maybe he doesn’t quite measure up. I’m a little scared as I pen this after he read aloud to us a less than complimentary review he’d received after a show in Townsville some years ago. The reviewer was quite annoyed and wished for him to leave Townsville, or better yet the whole of Queensland, off his next tour schedule after he’d insulted both the town and the mayor. Amos eventually apologised for the slights he committed against Townsville to earn this harsh review, but as he told us, it was just lip service, he didn’t mean it. This led into a discussion of whether we thought the apology the Government gave to the Indigenous people of our country was a good thing and to a conversation he’d had with an Indigenous man on the streets of Sydney.

My personal highlight was when the whole crowd joined him singing Ramadan to the tune of the Banana Boat song. It was just so absurd to be sitting in a theatre full of people singing this, this part actually had me laughing a lot.  During much of the rest of the show I often found myself thinking yes, that’s funny but not actually laughing. The rest of the crowd were chortling like mad for most of the show though, so what would I know?

I like a comedian who isn’t afraid to diverge from his planned material and I enjoyed the clearly spontaneous material more than some of the planned stuff. However, his story about a case of mistaken identity at a fancy resort in Thailand after a night on the drink was gold. With so much crowd interaction the show will be quite different from night to night, and this will help to keep it fresh and fun for Amos. When he’s on the stage he seems comfortable and happy, and at times his manner is so relaxed that it’s just like he’s having a chat with the whole audience at a very large bar. He comes across as very intelligent, and it isn’t gung-ho comedy, he’s calm and in control. This made me think that he’d be ok with my not being doubled up with laughter the whole time, like just the fact that I recognised the joke or ‘found the funny’ as he’d say would be enough of a reaction to this laid-back humour.

When he had a punch-line mishap he redid the joke, for his own sanity he said. When everyone laughed as if it was the first time we’d heard it he told us not to patronise him. He’s unafraid to make a mistake and admit to it, unafraid to be a bit of a snark to the audience and unafraid to do accents that could very easily be taken as racist. And as far as agendas go, Stephen K Amos certainly succeeds in his.

Shadows of Angels is Melbourne-based writer Fleur Murphy’s first theatre script. The piece aims to break down the stereotypical image of femme fatales as having glamorous lifestyles, and to reflect them more accurately. We don’t have to look far to find examples of Hollywood glamorising criminal women. One example that is close to home is the Underbelly Razor series. The play unfolds as four connecting monologues, each performed by a different actor. The characters are sometimes loosely based on real people, but the piece itself remains fictional.

The set is sparse when you enter the theatre and you can tell that you will get a stripped back show. The lighting is simple and effective. With this stage set-up, and in such an intimate space, there is nowhere to hide. Three of the actors were in place on the stage, and as I took my seat Erin Dewar met my gaze with an ice cold stare. As my face automatically relaxed into a smile hers did not. It was as if she was challenging me to look away before the piece had even begun. Her expression was bored and slightly annoyed, and it started to feel like she was waiting for me to begin not the other way around.

The horror of the hidden closet-room up the narrow stairs and through the sewing room of 777b will be familiar to anyone who has read Ruth Park’s The Harp in the South set in a similar time period. This is where an illegal abortionist practises and where we are taken by the first character we meet, dubbed ‘Good Femme’ in the program and played by Kara Stacey Merrin. The descriptions of the smell of the room and the stains on the bed strongly evoke the desperation one must have felt to seek an answer to their problems there. Good Femme clutches a dress in her hands and tries to distract herself from where she is with talk of its colour and texture, and then of the view she sees of the clear blue sky outside through a window.

We meet ‘Old Femme’ played by Rosemary Johns first through Good Femme’s imitations of her and then we get the real deal herself. She leads another young lady into her closet of horrors and tells her to lay on the bed while she crouches over a tan leather medical case. The tools that Old Femme takes out of her doctor’s bag are appalling and include a wire coat-hanger crudely fashioned into a utensil with a handle of closely twined metal leading to a single but crooked strand of wire that ends in a hook. When Old Femme describes the actions she performs with this tool I’d be surprised if anyone didn’t feel uncomfortable, which is the point. Circumstances lead old femme to visit a pawnbroker that she knows will give her a fair price for some goods she wants to move.

And so, H. Clare Callow is the next performer we meet as ‘Man Femme’. So convincing in her role that if I didn’t already know she was female I don’t think I would have guessed it. It’s not just the costume and the hairstyle, it’s the mannerisms and the way she holds herself on stage that are so believable. Her character is loosely based on a serial murderess who lived her life as a man. As such it would have been easy for her to self-consciously mimic manliness. Instead she embraces the role fully and seems to become rather than imitate this character.

Finally, we come to ‘Pretty Femme’ played by Erin Dewar who, as I haven’t seen her yet, I know must be she of the steely gaze from the beginning. I am expecting her to be good and she doesn’t disappoint –  she is the strongest link in this already strong chain. Having to play a character who is tough but vulnerable, and cover emotions including fear, grief and pain, the impressive writing is met with an equally impressive performance. It could have sunk into caricature but she dazzles and brings the show to a close with style and elicits the most emotional response I’ve felt apart from squeamish (that coat-hanger… shudder).

The subject matter isn’t pleasant and not everyone would enjoy being confronted with issues that we’d like to believe are only of the past but in reality still exist today. Shadows of Angels is largely successful in its aims, however, I did find the reduction of each character to ‘Good’ ‘Old’ ‘Man’ and ‘Pretty’ Femme in the program somewhat narrowing. Luckily, this effect was not reflected in the writing or performances.

Featuring a sharp script from a talented emerging playwright, deft direction and lighting along with convincing performances Shadows of Angels is well worth experiencing if you don’t mind theatre with a bit of bite.