Review: ★★★★ Steph Tisdell: Identity Steft (MICF)

When it comes to tackling an engorged beast like MICF, rolling out somewhere north of 650 shows in a manic four-week period, sure, book your absolute faves, but it often pays to take a chance on a newcomer too.

Steph Tisdell is one such star-in-the-making. The Brisbane-based comedian took out MICF's Deadly Funny prize in 2014, recognising the "freshest, fiercest and funniest Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander talent", off the back of a five-minute bit. Attracting buzz at the Edinburgh Festival after relocating to Scotland for a few years, she's now back in Australia and brings her first full-length foray to the festival, Identity Steft.

Taking an irreverent look at her mixed heritage, with an Indigenous mum and a white dad with "a black heart", it's a whip-smart dismantling of white guilt and the policy inaction of a country that isn't sorry enough to actually do anything about it.

A charged topic, without doubt, but this is no polemical sledgehammer. Rookie Tisdell, fond of a giggle during a deeply personal set in one of the Malthouse's intimate attic spaces, is disarmingly adept at working a predominantly white crowd. Bringing us along for the ride - all the while good-naturedly ribbing well-meaning if occasionally icky missteps, including those of her own best friends - she's smart enough to have us laughing at ourselves.

Charles Darwin and Captain Cook cop it, as do the inanity of Pauline Hanson and the seemingly innocuous axolotl, with Tisdell whipping the audience into a frenzy one minute then shocking us into silence with the white-hot fury of insults that have been hurled cruelly at her the next.

On the final night of her solo show (though you can still catch Tisdell in action at Aboriginal Comedy Allstars until 15 Apr), the stakes feel even more personal. Her boyfriend, who is on the Asperger's scale, is in the audience. She explains how his unique view of the world meant he thought a certain three-letter racist barb was simply a short version of Aboriginal, with Tisdell having to fill him in that it was a big no-no. As shocking as this revelation may be in the moment, it points to her practical outlook on how to fix things - communication, respect and education. For all of Identity Steft's dark moments, Tisdell keeps steering us towards hope for true reconciliation. 

Not that it's all nicey-nice. At her most outrageously funny Tisdell highlights white stupidity, embracing Aboriginal names they clearly haven't researched - let's just say you'll never look at Delta Goodrem and the recent Commonwealth Games opening ceremony the same way again, nor Melbourne's Moomba festival. A dab hand at interacting with the audience, including a nicely played moment with your humble reviewer playing on my Scottish origins and her eye-opening time there, Tisdell is a generous host. That spur of the moment trip was clearly a seminal moment in her young life, connected to her mental health journey, and it all ties in to the bigger picture of our nation's ignored wound and a need to bring us back together in a way that works for all, not just those privileged by violent history.

Already exuding promise, a smart sense of what makes her stand out in a crowded comedy scene and an impressive grip of complicated material, with more gigs under her belt and continually tightened writing skills we suspect Tisdell will become one of those must-book faves in years to come. 

Steph Tisdell is part of the Aboriginal Comedy Allstars line-up until Apr 15 at Trades Hall, part of the 2018 Melbourne International Comedy Festival.