āIāve got the pussy, Iāve got the power.ā These are the pre-recorded lyrics Bridget Everett sings through the speakers after sheās vacated the stage of her show āPound Itā. Theyāre a fitting summary of Bridgetās whole deal, as with āPound Itā, she delivers an hour of weird, hysterical, oversexed cabaret and soliloquy, and one of the most radical entries to the comedy festivalās roster.
Most people will be familiar with Everett from her occasional appearances in Amy Schumerās outstanding sketch/stand-up series Inside Amy Schumer. In that show, Bridget delivered some immaculate comedy acting and bizarre sex-positive anthems. Her timing and half-weeping delivery in the former translated better to TV than the latter, so I was sceptical about how actually funny āPound Itā would be, despite Everettās vocal prowess. But her Melbourne debut delivers hilariously messed-up speeches (ranging in topics from āflap-jack tittiesā to ābutter pussiesā), as well as provides an even better atmosphere for her music. The debauched hilarity of these songs rely on Everettās interaction with the audience, and her borderline-bananas confidence in doing shit like sauntering up to the most uncomfortable-looking of her spectators and burying their head in her cleavage.
Apart from her brazen breaking of peopleās boundaries, much of Everettās show, particularly the gently-spoken, piano-backed monologues, is bolstered by her knack for absurdity. Think of Zach Galafanakis on Saturday Night Live, playing the piano and musing about Thatās So Raven with the conviction of Lawrence Olivier – except with Everett, her nonsense always relates somehow to sex, or incest, or titties, or dicks. Maybe that sentence doesnāt make Everett sound particularly clever, but she is; this is a radical, genuinely niche show that provokes both shocks (oh man, is she really gonna do/wear/say that?) and guffaws (holy shit, she did!).
āPound Itā also feels very timely in 2016, when returned interest in feminism is spiking and some may be frustrated that only itsā most palatable expressions garner the most mainstream attention. (It’s worth mentioning that Everett’s persona seems very genuine, so she’s timely but not manipulative; rather, itās the fashion thatās catching up to her). Here you have a very brash comedian prancing in a parade of tiny dresses and bikinis (spoiler: there are costume changes!) while singing the virtues of different kinds of titties, taking regular swigs out of a paper bag and alluding to her past pregnancies, while giving them all the importance of any dude comedian talking about the number of times heās put on a rubber. It might be redundant at this point to say that this is not a show for prudes, but if you like your comedy off-kilter, hypersexual, sometimes juvenile, mostly sung, and aren’t adverse to potentially being picked up and played like a guitar, then run, donāt walk, to āPound Itā.
Pound It is on at Max Watts until April 3
http://www.comedyfestival.com.au/2016/season/shows/pound-it-bridget-everett