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It is rare that you turn up to a show expecting so little and end up loving it so much. Tim Minchin has that much talent to burn, he glows red-hot. The Melbourne-based performer is funnier than most comedians, plays better than most pianists, and sings with a voice any pop idol would be proud to own.
His act can loosely be described as black humour cabaret, but it’s more like one long hilarious ranting story told in song, interspersed with staccato bursts of hysterically funny dialogue.
His spoken word persona is a nervous type with deep-seated anger management problems. And his musical maestro side is full of power and scintillating one-liners.
It’s not for the faint-hearted, the religious or the easily offended.
He kicks off with an ode to his artificial girlfriend called Inflatable You. Next is a song about a well-educated piano-playing guy who wants to be a rock star but has no deep painful issues to use as his calling card. “Jeez, hate to be him”, Minchin says.
He’s so sick, slick and clever that it almost beggars belief. His wizardry with wordplay makes the mind boggle even as the ears burn. His fingers move across the keyboard like lightning, a high-velocity virtuosity matched only by the speed with which ideas tumble out of his mouth.
Sharp satire on stockbroking types with more money than sensitivity, and a twisted poem about his psychologist are next.
Then, just when we are in the palm of his hand, Minchin takes a turn towards the oddly earnest. A heartfelt ode to canvas shopping bags and a song explaining he, too, has a dark side, are still hilarious and yet honestly moving at the same time.
The final number, which encompasses the planet, the nation, his body and his brain in a beautifully poignant piece of songwriting, leaves us breathless.
Catch him quickly before he leaves town. This is one of the funniest and most amazing shows you’ll ever see.