DeAnne Smith: Post-Joke Era (MICF)

By her own admission, Canadian comic DeAnne Smith might just be the worst gender-queer, lesbian, tortured slam-poet, hipster vegan in the world.

While she's sworn off mammals and their lactations, she has no issue tucking into seafood. She has a rescued Chihuahua instead of the standard (lesbian) issue pair of Pitbulls. Her preferred non-gendered pronoun is "hot Harry Potter", she freely offers relationship and sex advice to clueless straight blokes, and she's squandering a poetical treasure trove of existential angst by taking anti-depressants. It's fortunate then, that the one thing she is indisputably accomplished at is being a comedian. For all her self-alleged shortcomings with regard to her other tribes, she's at the top of the pecking order amongst her fellow stand-ups.

Smith is not a new face at MICF, in fact, you could almost describe her as a Festival veteran. There is, however, something distinctly fresh about this year's turn. She's ditched the ukulele-accompanied comedy ditties common in her previous routines, and allowed a harder-edged, no-holds-barred quality to percolate through her show. Gone is the somewhat gentle, slightly apologetic bent of previous offerings, replaced by a no frills, no faff, no fucks-given shtick; the kind of comedy that leaves you mildly concussed from the number of walloping zingers taken directly to the face.

That's not to say the proverbial baby of Smith's comic identity has been thrown out with the bathwater. In less seasoned hands, adjusting the tone and character of an already established aesthetic could prove a Faustian pact, perhaps attracting some new punters but ultimately disengaging the existing fan base. However, Smith brings all her comedic nounce to bear on this reinvention, preserving the fundamental Smith-ian essence - a style that has, in the past at least, relied largely on personality and tone to hit its mark - while plugging in a more rigorously written, taut, structured approach.

There's still an element of endearing self-consciousness present, but it's used as a springboard rather than a gimmick. She lets her audience in on the mechanics of her craft, 'fessing-up about newly penned jokes or how comedy lovers overseas have reacted to her punchlines, wringing every millilitre of comic potential from her material, even when a gag doesn't quite land as expected. This tried and true awkwardness is now mingled with an element of grandstanding confidence, allowing her to push the more caustic bad-taste moments to even sharper levels of pearl-clutching shock, while preserving the sophistication and intelligence we've come to expect from Smith. Strangely, this feels like a drift closer to the mainstream, although somehow there's no hint of cynicism or hackery about this shift. Authenticity and humility are key to making Smith's comedy soar, and she finds a perfect equilibrium between self-effacement and showboating.

When she's not roasting herself, the jokes turn to American politics. Post-Joke Era, in some respects, tackles rather predictable territory - it's hardly ground-breaking for someone as conspicuously left-leaning as Smith to take the ramshackle Trump Presidency to task. It's the fact that Smith manages to negotiate these topics with such unexpected creativity that stands her apart from other comedian's trawling the murky depths of the geopolitical zeitgeist for material. This success hangs on the flexibility of Smith's execution, which leaps effortlessly from one-liner to story comedy, observational humour to improv crowd patter, and even some 21st century, hashtag-generation prop comedy. It's a virtuoso display of smart, slick, silly brilliance — a metaphorical (and literal) mic-drop of a show. Do not miss it.

DeAnne Smith presents Post-Joke Era til 23 Apr at Taxi Riverside, part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.