Hannah Gadsby’s previous show, Nanette, is a tough act to follow.
It was a joint winner of the Edinburgh Comedy Award and a Netflix hit, with the Tasmanian comedian’s onstage rage about toxic masculinity chiming perfectly with the #MeToo movement. If she has not topped Nanette, its sequel, Douglas, certainly matches its brilliance.
There is less of Nanette’s volcanic ire and more mischief here. Proceedings open with the black-suited stand-up running through the upcoming bullet points of her set. These are not spoilers though. They are an intriguingly cunning way of seeding extra punchlines.
Any remaining anger is mostly aimed at unexpected subjects, such as Where’s Wally? and golf. She does, however, still include some major “needling of the patriarchy”, from dissing a male doctor’s misdiagnosis to mocking being mansplained while walking her dogs in the park.
Every detail matters. The title has twin meanings — it is the name of one of her pooches and it also references the Pouch of Douglas — a female body part named by a man. A subsequent highlight is Gadsby imagining what a particularly intimate part of the male body would be called if a woman had named it.
For anyone concerned that things might get too earnest, a deceptively smart mid-set lecture on classical art combined with an instructive critique of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles allays fears. Everything feels as skilfully crafted as the Renaissance paintings she discusses.
Towards the end she talks about how she latterly learnt that she was autistic. This was not a bad thing, she says. It finally explained her particular perspective. Gadsby might have a unique way of seeing the world but judging by the standing ovation she received, it is a vision that many can relate to. A masterpiece of a show.
Nov 3 (020 3879 9555, southbankcentre.co.uk)
