There was an unmistakable energy in the room at the Aunty Donna show on Wednesday. Despite being late on a work night the venue was packed with people; some, in fear of missing out, stood for the entire show. Max Watts, a small underground venue in the heart of the city, was dimly lit and buzzing with murmurs of anticipation. Abruptly, as if wanting to shock us off our seats, blaring music and lights welcomed the comedy trio onto stage whilst the audience clapped excitedly.
Personally, I was familiar only with Aunty Donnas YouTube skits, whose one-liners were so good that they are quoted many times amongst my friends and I. Still, I was unsure how they would create an hour long show or what it would be about, but I was not disappointed. The premise of the show revolved around a high school talent show and its contestants. It began with Broden, Zach and Mark singing an original song that was accompanied with a choreographed dance that, much to my enjoyment, went on far too long. There were three small wooden rectangular structures decorated with a basketball hoop, graffiti and a school logo setting the scenes at Glennridge Secondary College. I attended the show with my brother who was newly graduated with a diploma in, you guessed it, secondary school teaching. It was amusing to sit beside him and gage his reaction as the performers played different types of teachers, which ranged from the ‘old drunk’ to the ‘young relatable’ and everything in between.
The surreal, non-naturalistic show comprised of minimal props and costume changes and yet it was completely compelling and engaging. Each of the boys played an abundance of characters ranging from high school students to members of the terrorist group ISIS. I would attempt to explain how ISIS plays a role in an absurdist story about a high school talent show but that would ruin all of the fun, you just have to go see it.
The show is fast-paced, bombastic to the utmost extreme and simply preposterous. I would highly recommend this show if you want a good hearty laugh.
