Review: ★★★★ Celia Pacquola: All Talk (MICF)

Celia Pacquola, in keeping with the Australian tradition of self-deprecating to the point of tetchy absurdity, does not have big notes on herself.

Striding out onto the Comedy Theatre's lustrous blue curtained stage in obligatory Melbourne dark jeans and top combo, she immediately confesses to being just famous enough to be recognisable on the street and stopped by strangers convinced that they know her, but not enough for them to realise it's from her stand-up or, even more likely, ABC TV series like Rosehaven and Utopia. A fact she's loath to drop even as they scratch their heads, searching for the connection.

An enthusiastically charismatic presence from the outset, Pacquola's seeming ease working the room, eliciting raucous laughter from revealing her flatmate once mistook the high-pitched wines of her dog for the comedian's sex antics, belies a much more revealing vein that probes her occasional mental ill health.

As with many of our comic greats — and Pacquola is well on her way to becoming one of those — she struggles behind that impressive career facade with the extreme anxiety and depression she likens to a swarm of bees wearing her skin. It's a burden she freely admits drives her to four too many beers in a "fuck it" attempt to avoid the metaphorical "pit" of self-destruction. Of course, booze only greases an already slippery slope.

Something of a theme running through the female-led shows of this year's MICF, the odious extent of sexual harassment and assault women have to endure on a seemingly daily basis, the #metoo pushback pops up. Pacquola, in her disarmingly cheerful way, relays her surprisingly polite rebuttal to a flasher in a city park. There's a surprising amount of strength in the way she unsheathes her armour, guiding the show gently forward into thornier topics without ever losing sight of her bright disposition.

Hers is the sort of subtle delivery of deeper issues that's all the more likely to sink in with comedy crowds who will leave considering bigger questions than whether or not she has an extremely random chest tattoo or if a sex-tape scandal awaits.

Adept at the callback, even seemingly innocuous jokes that land thick and fast in the early stages of the show circle back around again laden with deeper meaning. The apologetic deprecation kicks in again at the end as Pacquola apologises to any audience members who came expecting, "that nice girl from the ABC," and is now leaving with one too many "fucks" and a boozy blow-by-blow of how she won over her current partner while legless at a wedding. But the truth is, this glimpse of struggle brings welcome depth. I hope Pacquola continues to be good to herself, gets the help she needs when she can't, and funnels all of it into ever more illuminating and amusing tell-alls in a way that hopefully empowers her.

Celia Pacquola presents All Talk until 17 Apr at the Comedy Theatre, part of the 2018 Melbourne International Comedy Festival.