Andre DiVenuto has a dream. A dream to host his own tonight
show on Foxtel. He’s planning to record a pilot episode with his band, Bryan Jovi – they do Bryan Adams and Bon
Jovi covers – but they have gone missing. And he’s waiting for his special
guest Sam Neill to arrive from Tullamarine. Nothing is going to plan.
I was enticed to see Andre
Tonight by the talent involved – writer and actor Chris Ryan and director
Mark Leonard Winter. As the press release reminds us, they worked together on
the brilliant Thyestes but I’m not
sure that’s exactly how to pitch this show, a parody of tonight shows; Rove, as
Andre explains, but darker.
The format of the night show is hackneyed. It’s barely
changed in fifty years. There’s a band and there’s a special guest. And the “things
go wrong behind-the-scenes” genre is one of my least favourite things. But Andre Tonight transcends this set-up
because it’s not just a parody of tonight shows, it’s an insight into our
obsession with fame and trying to become famous.
Ryan’s dressed in a terrible suit with an impressive bald
spot; he looks tired and when Andre describes himself as “double nervous,” Ryan
shows us exactly what that could mean.
Putting the show in the Comedy section of the Fringe
Festival guide is a bit of bait-and-switch; they’re selling you a parody but giving
you something much more fresh and exciting. Andre’s double nerves make you feel
for him, while he tries desperately to entertain the audience that have shown
up for his taping.
Early in the show, after it’s clear Bryan Jovi isn’t coming, Andre wonders if there might be anyone in
the audience who can sing a little and play the keyboard. A woman stumbles from
the audience, hair across her face, an almost-finished glass of red wine in her
hand. She spits out her name “Meg” and falls onto the stool behind the
keyboard.
In a shock to no one, “Meg the Egg” wows the audience, and
while Andre continues to wait for Sam Neill, his real special guest is actually
singer/songwriter, Megan Washington.
Ryan’s performance is filled with neat touches and his
script brings a very Melbourne feel with references to Epping, Gumbaya Park and
Clark Rubber. There’s a moment late in the show where Andre’s dream is slipping
away and he’s sitting there, forlorn, eating dry Milo straight from the can. It’s
hilarious and pathetic all at once.
Winter’s direction is loose without letting the show get out
of hand; you don’t want this show to be too silly or too serious.
Andre Tonight is
on late night, every night of the Fringe Festival, except Mondays. It’s a great
way to end a Fringe binge – in the company of a sharp script, a smart actor and
an exquisite singer.
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