Keeping it seemly, by Fiona Scott-Norman - 9th February 2007
(Credit: The Age)

Noughties comedy is riding a new wave of nice, writes Fiona Scott-Norman.

Anyone who's spent an hour trapped at a family do by a distant uncle with a bottomless store of jokes about women, Aborigines, sheep and randy travelling salesmen knows there's no such thing as a universal sense of humour. This is why stating "GSOH" in a personal ad is essentially meaningless; what makes one person laugh like a drain impels another to stab themselves in the eye with a fork just to make it stop.

That said (and notwithstanding the perennial appeal of the knob joke), comedy has trends. In the Middle Ages a bladder on a stick was considered hysterical; in the 1970s it was mother-in-law and take-my-wife jokes. In the late '80s and early '90s, comedy was identified as the "new rock'n'roll", and stand-up had an aggressive, assertive energy, typified by comics such as Bill Hicks, Austen Tayshus and Ben Elton, wearing black and shouting a lot about politics and the stupidity of the audience.

The latest breed of emerging stand-ups are different again. Shy, awkward, geeky and gentle, there's a groundswell of niceness on the comedy circuit, which is increasingly populated by comedians who rally under the flag of whimsy and wouldn't know testosterone if it ate their man-bag.

Melbourne comic Lawrence Leung, who was described by a fan as "a thinking woman's Tickle Me Elmo doll", and whose Melbourne International Comedy Festival show last year, Puzzle Boy, was an homage to the Rubik's Cube, puts it this way: "There are a lot of cardigans and badges. It's not so much rock'n'roll now as indie pop. Belle and Sebastian comedians."

The most prominent members of the new born-to-be-mild comedy gang are Spicks and Specks host Adam Hills, whose latest publicity shot sees him wearing a T-shirt that reads "Respect your mum", and joyous musical geek trio Tripod (who symbolically inherited the "three guys and a guitar" mantle from the belligerent Doug Anthony Allstars).

Others include the intensely vulnerable Justin Heazlewood (aka The Bedroom Philosopher), the happily old-fashioned Andrew McClelland, book nerd Asher Treleaven, juice-sucking Sammy J, the very awkward Justin Kennedy, absurdist supremo Sam Simmonds, retro smoothie Oliver Clark, apologetic Adam Vincent, gay softie Anthony Menchetti, lesbian softie Hannah Gadsby, lucent Claire Hooper, sweet Bec Hill - and Damian Callinan, Michael Chamberlain, Tommy Dassalo, Adam McKenzie, Josh Earl, Sylvio and the almost startlingly fey Josh Thomas. And this isn't even factoring in international dags such as Daniel Kitson, Ross Noble and The Mighty Boosh.

Lawrence Leung, whose latest show is about his futile pursuit of cool, thinks there's been a big shift in comedians' style and what they write about. "There's been a reaction against the 'Don't you hate it when . . . 'style of comedy. It's not about shouting and being angry with everything any more. Some comics are talking about what they like, what they love, what they're passionate about instead. It's a positive energy. I think our generation is gentler. Some male comics struggle with the ' . . . and then I f---ed her' style of comedy. We don't want to be doing that."

Adam Hills, a three-time Perrier award nominee who puts his sunny nature down to a happy childhood, and whose new show is called Joymonger, says he became determined to do pleasant comedy as a rebellion. "I was onstage at Jongleurs in London and the MC came out and was getting the audience going by yelling, 'Right! Who wants to hear arse and dick jokes?' I thought, I want to do something uplifting or positive to rebel."

He has also worked out through experience that negativity and aggression on stage is usually counter-productive.

"I had a road-to-Damascus moment in Adelaide. I was compering and ripped the shit out of a table of butchers down the front for 10 minutes, and they hated every act after that and were hostile. I realised I'd introduced this really negative energy into the room. I went back on stage and apologised, they cheered, and loved the rest of the night."

Hills continues: "I think every really successful comedian is very, very slightly effeminate or camp. Eddie Izzard's a good example. It's about being vulnerable and sensitive on stage. You've got to be low-status so the audience won't be threatened by you."

Claire Hooper, who recently moved to Melbourne from Perth, and whose festival show last year was called Oh, about the possibility of losing her voice after surgery, also thinks optimistic comedy serves an important purpose.

"The '80s was full of angry, arrogant people who were saying, 'Isn't it great to yell?' Audiences aren't uplifted by that any more. They're enjoying being emotionally moved, or seeing people celebrate their meekness, or talking about their struggle to remain positive and optimistic in today's world. It's like comedy now is about stories of survival. I struggle with my awkwardness every day - that's what I talk about."

The revealing of awkwardness, vulnerability and the inability to cope is a theme common to all of the new breed of comics. If the '80s was about covering a lack of confidence with shouting, new-millennium comics are letting it all hang out. It's probably an inevitability in Western societies that are evolving because of personal development, New Age philosophy and therapy.

Justin Kennedy, self-deprecating on stage and a host of Channel 31's breakfast show, does the bulk of his material essentially about self-sabotage. His new show, Ladies?, pays attention to the gap between who we think we're going to be, and reality.

"It's about how love can just pass quite normal people by. On stage I'm a hyper-extended version of myself - so many times I've bollocksed-up my various endeavours. People are very insecure; they don't know the answers, but they're pretending the best they can. I like to celebrate that and say, 'It's OK, you're not the only one.' Change happens within people, and within a society - guys are a lot more enlightened now, and are prepared to open up."

One of the newest talents on the circuit, nervous, juice-drinking and loquacious musical act Sammy J, is also surfing the new-generational wave.

"I think it's OK today for a guy to wear a skivvy on stage. It's OK to be a nerd. I've always turned my disadvantages into advantages - I was militantly against alcohol and smoking at school; I turned it into a persona even then. I'd walk around at sports day wearing a multi-coloured shirt saying, 'Houses unite, we're all winners.' "

Sammy, whose wordplay was inspired by a Noel Coward CD given to him by his grandmother, also thinks geekiness is a good way to get away with being intelligent on stage.

"If you're awkward, the audience doesn't feel threatened. I try and juggle it so the joke's on me half the time. You have to pick your audiences, though - a group of jocks aren't necessarily in the mood for some post-modern piano-based musical comedy."

Audiences are the key. A number of rooms foster gentle, sensitive non-threatening comedy - most notably The Local in St Kilda, and Hash Brown and Cuddles, and The Oyster Club in Fitzroy - but outside of festivals, many audiences demonstrate an ongoing appetite for broad, blue, material.

"It's a challenge," says Justin Kennedy, "to balance being a unique, gentle comedian with appealing to a mainstream. I hope this new wave of nice isn't just a niche, because it's the obscure, the personal and esoteric that I find wonderful."

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