Felicity Ward: The Iceberg

Since moving to London Felicity Ward has noticed something rotten in the state of Australia,  whether that be a male Prime Minister naming himself Minister for Women despite a fairly disappointing track record on that score, or Australia only having three rousing pro-Australia songs to sing at the cricket. Her show The Iceberg is all about perception and whether the parts of our selves we try and present to the world are what the world really sees. Ward easily skips between moments of gentle whimsy and absurdity (watermelon hats) and letting her feminist flag fly (the phrase ‘oestrogen Mardi Gras’ is not one you’ll often hear at the Comedy Store). Though there are moments when one angry male audience member threatened to disrupt the show, Ward’s quiet rebuttal and genuine concern for her audience proved this sharp comedian is in complete control. Even the odd technological hitch is brushed off with a deft touch and a quip. But the joy of Ward’s show isn’t just in the sharp tongue. Ward is a wonderfully physical performer, body-rolling her way across stage. And just like the show’s titular iceberg, flip Ward’s show over and what you’ll find underneath is, at once, both shocking and dazzling.