Jack McGee
I’m not the target audience for Don’t Lick That, because I do not have a child. When Walters polls the room and asks who is childfree, there’s only four of us brave enough to make a sound. Walters dismisses us eloquently, proffering that our days must of course be filled with “cocaine and ziplining.” The thing I respect most about Don’t Lick That is its confidence in its convictions. The show rightfully assumes that since we were all once children, we can confidently get our head around any parent-specific-anecdotes without needing a thesaurus (you can work out what dropping the nap means from context clues). It also understands that we don’t really matter. Most shows you’ll see at BATS are by childless young people, for childless young people. We can smile and nod for a change.
Out of the gate, I have to acknowledge two things that really limit my enjoyment of Don’t Lick That, Lana Walter’s Billy T nominated special. The first is its run time. Advertised at one hour, the show runs at least ten minutes over time. This is a cardinal sin during festivals and for good reason. Those in the audience hoping to hop down stairs for the next show are out of luck unless they’re willing to miss a lot of the opening. It also doesn’t compliment Walter’s material, which could have happily been condensed into a lean 50 minutes. Secondly, there’s Walter’s tendency to nervously laugh at her own jokes. These laugh breaks consistently break the flow of the show and get in the way of her building momentum. Ultimately, this combined with the longer show-length makes the show always feel like it’s dragging a little, and the material is never able to sing at full volume.
That all being said, Walter’s observational comedy is very strong. One of my favourite sections of the show unpacks a bizarre trend that’s shockingly prevalent, the player-ification of infant boys, pulling apart statements like “Oh he’s going to grow up to be a heartbreaker isn’t he?”. Walters takes great joy in milking this sentiment for all it’s worth, reversing gender roles, and playing it out to the point of absurdity.
The bulk of the show however, is storytelling focussed. Alongside a few more locally based parenting stories, the bulk of the show is spent telling the epic saga of Walters trip to Eastern Europe - Georgia and Armenia (and Azerbaijan) specifically. Walters is a solid storyteller and is able to make parenting a toddler sound like being the star of an action movie, but these stories sprawl wildly without direction. Likely exacerbated by the run length, it’s rare that these feel polished or pointed - strong call backs are few and far between. Often the comedic conceit of the story is centred around how insane Eastern Europe is (escapades through Georgia’s Stalin Museum is a highlight), and while many of these anecdotes are jaw droppingly shocking, they lose impact in their abundance. A story about a disturbing petting zoo, despite highlights, verges into diminishing returns, and it’s a relief when we return to a more personally grounded anecdote about Walters and her partner to close out the show.
It’s worth noting that all the parents in the audience enjoyed the show substantially more than I did, and if you’re specifically looking for comedy about this subject matter I’d heartily recommend Don’t Lick That. I also suspect there's a little bit of the Wellington-Testing-Ground thing happening here and Auckland audiences are going to get a much more polished show. I remain frustrated by this trend. All being said, Don’t Lick That is an entertaining and well observed hour(+) of comedy and worth a look.
That all being said, Walter’s observational comedy is very strong. One of my favourite sections of the show unpacks a bizarre trend that’s shockingly prevalent, the player-ification of infant boys, pulling apart statements like “Oh he’s going to grow up to be a heartbreaker isn’t he?”. Walters takes great joy in milking this sentiment for all it’s worth, reversing gender roles, and playing it out to the point of absurdity.
The bulk of the show however, is storytelling focussed. Alongside a few more locally based parenting stories, the bulk of the show is spent telling the epic saga of Walters trip to Eastern Europe - Georgia and Armenia (and Azerbaijan) specifically. Walters is a solid storyteller and is able to make parenting a toddler sound like being the star of an action movie, but these stories sprawl wildly without direction. Likely exacerbated by the run length, it’s rare that these feel polished or pointed - strong call backs are few and far between. Often the comedic conceit of the story is centred around how insane Eastern Europe is (escapades through Georgia’s Stalin Museum is a highlight), and while many of these anecdotes are jaw droppingly shocking, they lose impact in their abundance. A story about a disturbing petting zoo, despite highlights, verges into diminishing returns, and it’s a relief when we return to a more personally grounded anecdote about Walters and her partner to close out the show.
It’s worth noting that all the parents in the audience enjoyed the show substantially more than I did, and if you’re specifically looking for comedy about this subject matter I’d heartily recommend Don’t Lick That. I also suspect there's a little bit of the Wellington-Testing-Ground thing happening here and Auckland audiences are going to get a much more polished show. I remain frustrated by this trend. All being said, Don’t Lick That is an entertaining and well observed hour(+) of comedy and worth a look.