Hamish Parkinson: Moon Baby (MICF)

Tonight I killed an out-of-control cokehead, robbed a granny and spat cheap red wine into a strange man's mouth. It's okay, I'd done at least one of those things before.

Normally I try to remain an objective spectator when reviewing comedy. I'm not a fan of the writer who places themselves central to a review. But I beg permission to do that here for one main reason - I somehow became the co-star on opening night of Hamish Parkinson's Moon Baby.

Next I need to explain that my number one fear in life is audience participation at comedy shows. It began when I attended my first ever show and was dragged on stage by Gina Riley to be a contestant in Bob Downe's gameshow. I left the stage humiliated (the joke was that no matter how many of the super easy questions I got right, it was rigged for the good looking female contestant to win - way to bruise a young man's ego). Most recently I was an unwilling participant in the hunt for Noel Fielding's kidnapper. In the intervening years I've been picked on, questioned and made fun of by a variety of comedians. I must have ‘punchline victim’ tattooed across my forehead in an ink only visible to comedians (or maybe I just laugh too loudly). I now fight my way to the back row of all comedy gigs I attend. Even then, if I sense a comedian is about to walk into the audience, I spend the rest of the show shitting myself. 

Sooooooo....

You can imagine my horror when I enter the Trades Hall's Evatt Room to find it empty. Well, empty except for a mad scientist-looking type waiting to greet me at the door. From the gentle New Zealand accent I guess this is Parkinson himself. He politely presses me to sit up the front - right up the front. It’s a small room. I sit with my knees almost touching the stage, holding firmly to my jacket and backpack.

"I’m soon to learn that this man is fearless"

Parkinson begins to chat. I’m unsure if he’s in character or is just trying to make me feel comfortable. He asks if I come to gigs alone often and tells me he likes going to movies on his own. He asks me if I know much about his show. He tells me that he had to pack a lot of props and suggests I leave my jacket on the seat next to me. NOW, I’m shitting myself.

Then I experience a first of many firsts for the night. We negotiate. Parkinson asks me if I’m happy for him to do the show just for me. I answer with a question, “Are you happy to do the show just for me?” He insists he is. I mumble a second chance to give him an out, something like “Well, if you are really sure...” He mentions that if no one else turns up that he will have to cut out parts of the show.

And at this point I falter... do I come clean and tell him I’m here to review? For some reason I decide not to, concerned it might make an already awkward situation even more awkward. I shouldn’t have worried as I’m soon to learn that this man is fearless. (At this point, I’d like to apologise to Parkinson for not being completely open but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Please don’t hate me for it.)

We have a little more pre-show banter where I confess to my fear of audience participation. He jokes that he’s about to test my limits. But then he says something really kinda sweet (maybe he noticed me white-knuckling), and points out that there’s no one there to see me so I’ve got nothing to worry about. That charming bastard. I was in. And, somehow for the next half hour, I did absolutely everything this guy asked of me (note: not one of my firsts).

Next thing I know I’m in a cubicle with a man I’ve just met stripping down to his boxer briefs (again, not one of the firsts). He hands me the wig, glasses and lab coat he’s been wearing. “Put these on.” But then we are interrupted. Another audience member arrives. Parkinson squeezes past me and pops his head out of the side-of-stage cubicle and quickly debriefs her on the situation. She agrees to stay (turns out she is Mary, a fellow Comedy Festival performer) and I guess this means we will now get the full show.

"Next thing I know I’m in a cubicle with a man I’ve just met stripping down to his boxer briefs."

Dressed for the part, Parkinson tells me my name is Labby (if I’ve got that wrong, my fault, I’m bad with accents), points to a tiny clipboard on stage and asks me to go out and begin to read. There’s a brief moment of confusion as I realise that I will actually need my own glasses to be able to read rather than prop glasses... and soon I’m to learn what Moon Baby is about.

If this situation wasn’t already surreal enough, I discover that I’m a scientist looking to send an astronaut to the moon (I’m pretty sure my script specified a New Zealand astronaut). That astronaut is Parkinson. But he’s not adult enough to be an astronaut and so begins a frantic-paced, prop-drunk story of his 12-step program to adulthood.

In the 30 minutes that follow: all three of us maypole dance, I win a date with Parkinson, he seduces me, he beds me, Mary gets him pregnant, he gives birth, we shakedown an elderly babysitter (Mary), there’s multiple homicides and we end up rubbing cream all over the once-again stripped-to-his-boxer-briefs Parkinson. There’s so so much more but hey, spoilers!

This is one of the bravest performances I’ve ever seen. I have no idea what it looked like from the audience though, the only time I ever left the stage was to follow Parkinson out of the theatre to score some coke (which eventually led to the murder I mentioned earlier). Both Mary and I trusted him completely. He asked, we delivered. Mary found herself lying across the front row being smothered while I found myself squishing grapes into his mouth.

Parkinson never let up, the pace was so dizzying I never once thought about shitting myself (even when he laid out a garbage bag for me to stand on - 'coz that never bodes well). His physical comedy is batshit crazy and his adventures in finding adulthood are gloriously absurd. But at the centre of it all are some dark observations about the cycle of life. 

While it remains to be seen if Parkinson has totally cured me of my participation-phobia, I’m feeling fairly certain he has earnt me a lifetime’s worth of getting-out-of-joining-in. I do know though that I will worry that maybe Parkinson is too brave for his own good - he made me spit wine in his mouth... that can’t be hygienic... 

"Batshit crazy and gloriously absurd"

Is it that the Trades Hall is too far away from the Comedy Festival hub or is 6.30pm too early to start a show in an already crammed programme? Whatever the reason for the lack of audience, there's no real excuse for not seeing Parkinson. The fact that he had a role in one of last year's most praised films — Hunt For The Wilderpeople — is reason enough to want to explore Moon Baby. Make the effort to hunt this mad show out because, guaranteed Parkinson is already making one helluva an effort to deliver one of this year's best shows.

Hamish Parkinson presents Moon Baby till 23 Apr at Trades Hall, part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.