From Ten to Seven and the feeling of bringing their show to the new home after a year off the air is all there with host Shane Bourne and judge Tom Gleisner bouncing back on the tepid wait before the performers come out to play. Rusty in parts, basically the same old, same old.
Kicking in the first of the introduction segments, Colin Lane starts rubbing mystic belly-to-belly with a heavily pregnant Cal Wilson. No idea on the background, if any, but their eyes dilate and their expressions connect in an entertainingly odd shiver of kismet kooky. Not as strange as hearing about Wilson's baby brain mode and dumping clothes into the dunny.
Merrick Watts is on the construction set with a full brim hard hat stacking up the first load of bricks. Noting an "iron head made out of metal" for one of the delivers, the rest are as quick and done with as that missive. Calm and showing no signs or exploits of drama, able to turn a few lines in his favour.
Lane is out next as Reptile Rick in khaki shorts and a classroom full of kids. The pauses are long between Lane and ensembler Nicola Parry. Spelling Bee activation mode, the kids take off some time from the scene to then have the frame move into a larger volume area with Lane shouting "Run" but not quite at the level of the top. Snoozing wombat in the background not bothering to notice anything going on.
Lane, with the wands of head hair, slightly greasy to the sheen, sparks an uncanny resemblance to CommSec's Tom Piotrowski. Especially in the quick scenes of the cast over the cable TV shows with Lane in a market/stock analyst role no less. The other warm up, for a car repair spot, is spry, irritating and done with but drips a bit trying to find the initial grip.
Wilson, taking the lectern to where it wasn't going to go in a funeral looks like she wants out. Shouting "Purse" for effect and ramping up the decibels on each ring, there's just not a quick enough exit to match the wit. Flat and pushy.
The volume throttles back down as Rhys Darby goes Captain Midnight in a highway robbery. Losing the plot and making waves with it, Darby cannot keep a single thought on track, contradiction getting up high flavour. Looking to go somewhere, but not knowing when or how to.
Showing off the transplant of authority to sports stars, Damien Fleming gabs on about the Australian Synchrotron in a smooth ad that makes it seem slightly interesting to outside science.
Group challenge in a birthing class, Watts in white coat and Lane in drag. Belabouring the start, it's not until half of the game is over before things start riffing up the laughs and the show ends on a higher note than an hour ago. Admittedly it doesn't really begin until Lane takes the reigns of the scene to lower his female voice to where his ankles are, but getting there is just as fun as watching the car smash into confetti. Lane with the win.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Hair of frenzy and jeans so tight octaves raise, Russell Brand selling the comedic stylings of his wordplay and examinations of old footage from who knows what kind of archives.
Ranting, loudly no less, to the place of bringing it up and showing exactly what's happening. A handing over toward the screen, Ponderland serves up the most obscure docos to slice and rip apart. Times, they have a changed. But the fashion is still the other half of the house, stuck in an era of tan and brown.
Fricatives work magically well in the stream of things. Loose flowing diatribe on language constructs, dialects and accents. Setting up a nice, well made comment, and the thing itself questions why there aren't more comedians who drop in language constructs and other such angled examinations. Not as if there was a big market for jokes about maths and the English language.
Erratic presence on the screen, a boisterous delivery of the lines where they feel all over the place. Kind of like some noodlerama about the brain and the inner workings of human foils, perceptions and practicalities of preponderance.
Raucously pleasant rough knuckle baring internal dialogue/soliloquy, the kind of viewing that gets the mind going.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Elemunk scrambles the loose connections bouncing about the mind of Soon Van.
Feel free to ask questions on any topic. Or spend some quality killswitch time poking about reading the vintage synapses
Or maybe a torrid trail of job interviews?
Elementary Funk by Soon Van is licensed under a Creative Commons License. Feel free to read up on the scope of the copyright over the posts and photos.
Kiss of a burning flame full of desire