The show begins as a rambunctious Oliver Pol runs centre stage, and as soon as this happens, we know that we are in for 60 minutes of pure chaos. Oliver Pol: Featherbrained is a no-holds-barred comedy set destined to make you honk with laughter.

Pol has unwavering confidence and is unabashedly himself, which makes his set feel more personal and, as a result, more engaging. By the end of it, we know the details of his life, perhaps even more intimately than we bargained for (in a good way). He connects us to early 2000s culture in New Zealand, exploring the struggles of obtaining a pen licence in primary school, the 2007 Guinness Book of World Records, and the Fish and Chip Song, which was, apparently, the major craze at every school in the country apart from mine.

Pol is not afraid of the tricky stuff. He finds the humour in hard-hitting topics with tact and sensitivity – a delicate balance to strike. At the same time, he doesn’t hesitate to talk about whatever seems to spring to his mind, giving the show a spontaneous and authentic feel. He will make you question the morality of a seagull eating a pigeon. His flair for comedy will leave an imprint on you like a hickey. I absolutely adore his unhinged comedic stylings.

Using props and a presentation screen adds to the performativity of the routine and further illustrates the passion Pol has for the topics he discusses. If only there was ventriloquism involving a goose… though that would reveal the innermost thoughts of said goose, in turn uncovering a brain possibly even more wonderfully chaotic than Pol’s. And besides, this is a show about him, not about geese (though they do feature a lot).

This show will make you laugh more than an article on drunken geese in the 1881 Lyttelton Times. Oliver Pol: Featherbrained is a wild ride, and you would be a silly goose to miss its run at BATS Theatre this NZ International Comedy Festival.

Wellington-based comedy couple Mo Munn and Q Potts put their relationship on show in this sketch comedy performance. Most couples would likely cringe at the thought of teaching their partner to drive, and that makes the core premise instantly relatable.

But teaching a partner to drive is merely the vehicle for an exposé of the social constructs that define the roles of men and women in relationships, and the boundaries surrounding control and trust. Every relationship is different, but Munn and Potts’ affectionate prodding of gender relationship stereotypes kept this happily married reviewer cackling for most of the evening.

As a sketch comedy show, Driving Me Crazy relies heavily on seamless transitions between scenes. This worked well, although some in-scene delivery felt slightly stilted at times as Munn and Potts invented their next line. Munn in particular covered these momentary interruptions of flow well, adding to the comic rhythm of the performance.

Each sketch added to the emotional range of the show, moving from domestic argument to parody, physical comedy, and genuine affection. Potts offered some of the best comic timing of the night during a parody of Greased Lightnin’, with a simple repeated line that contrasted with Munn’s exuberant performance. Munn, meanwhile, was especially strong when ordinary anxiety tipped into full catastrophic fantasy.

Props were well hidden amongst the main set piece, allowing the stage to look clean and uncluttered. Occasional slides added context without distracting from the action on stage.

This was a cleverly designed, smart sketch show that kept the audience laughing while offering enough relationship truth to create comedy warmth. Perhaps it would benefit from a touch of editing to keep the audience focused on the core relationship dynamic (rather than the occasional mild bout of regional parochialism), but beneath the competitive grievances and driving-related trauma was a portrait of two people who know exactly how to wind each other up, and why they still choose each other anyway.

Driving Me Crazy: a show full of laughter that many couples will recognise, even if they would rather not admit it.

Hoani Hoani Hoani Must Be Funny in a Rich Man’s World is Hoani Hotene’s latest set and is filled with jokes that will encroach on you like baked beans on a big breakfast (or the English in general). Just as humans gave lemons life, Hotene gives life to the room, with constant laughter after every joke.

Having previously performed his set in Auckland, Hotene now relates it to a Wellington audience, drawing on our café culture, what it’s like being from Lower Hutt, and the famous moa button at Te Papa. He even infuses a fraught situation – the current state of New Zealand politics – with light and humour.

Crowd work is certainly one of this comedian’s many fortés. Throughout the set, he improvises jokes based on our conversations, which not only engages us more but also makes things feel more genuine. It’s nice to see a comedian tailor their show to their audience, even if there are disagreements about whether people attending a conference together are genuine friends. And just when you think he can’t amp it up any further, Hotene brings out a guitar and plays a song that ties everything together in a perfect bow, making the audience buzz with laughter once more.

Another skill I commend him for is his ability to make his personal life hilarious. Hotene is able to use seemingly normal interactions, such as watching your three-year-old cousin learn about social clout, to make the whole crowd go wild. This is no ordinary feat.

You will laugh like you never have before watching this show. Don’t be like someone who washes old toothbrushes around the house to reuse them. Instead, use the money you would’ve spent on a new toothbrush to buy tickets to Hoani Hoani Hoani Must Be Funny in a Rich Man’s World at The Fringe Bar before it’s gone like the moa.

What do ghost hunters, gangster rap, hula hoop, and comedy have in common? If you guessed nothing, you clearly have not been to Stamptown. This popular five-time New York Times comedy pick combines acts from around the world to form one wild and unique experience. I got to see the first night in Wellington as part of the NZ International Comedy Festival, and when I tell you this show has it all, I mean it.

It all kicks off with an impressive rollerblade performance (Dylan Woodley), which quickly develops into a full-blown dance party. It’s an unexpected start and certainly won’t be the last time I’ll be surprised tonight. The show continues with Stamptown’s host and creator Zach Zucker, whose manic performance is underlined by a variety of sound effects that are equally funny and irritating. Be it kangaroo calls, rap music, or gunshots, Zucker hilariously adapts and improvises around whatever noise he is given.

Throughout the night, various artists show up on stage, mostly making it up as they go. There is no plot or plan, only pure chaos. Classical stand-up comedy, fire breathing, and pantomime striptease all come together in what is probably the craziest, weirdest, and most unhinged show I’ve ever seen. You truly cannot anticipate what’s coming next. However, this unpredictability is also Stamptown’s biggest strength, and I can’t help but laugh at the outrageous things unfolding before my eyes. The chaos also makes me understand the extensive trigger warnings at the entrance, as nudity, fire, and flashing lights don’t just appear; they happen all at once.

Judging by the reviews, Stamptown is something you will either love or hate. Either way, you will never forget it. Whether it is a circus, a comedy show, or performance art, I am still unsure. Is it, at times, obscene and insulting? Yes. Does it leave me dazed and confused about what I have just witnessed? Yes. Would I go again? Absolutely.

Beloved Wellington pairing Ginge & Minge give failed comedy ideas a second chance for this year’s NZ International Comedy Festival. They’re at pains to point out that this isn’t an original idea. However, their format just might be.

As the audience arrives, we’re each offered a scrunched-up ball of orange paper that matches the giant silky sash draped across the back of the stage and the paper crown ready to be awarded for successful sketch redemption. Proclaiming “We love s*** ideas!”, our energetic hosts introduce their four Vessels of Comedy (Austin Harrison, Matt Hutton, Mo Munn, and Ralph Hilaga), improvisers who will act out each previously unloved sketch by a guest comedian.

Wiremu Tuhiwai is the first to offer an idea inspired by Herman’s Head and Inside Out. Somewhere in Minge’s mind palace is the missing link between a good Subway sandwich and how to look fly. With four emotions from the audience, the troupe embarks on a hilariously chaotic sketch about vegan mayonnaise. When your audience has only one vote per person, it’s tough going first and, sadly, Tuhiwai’s sketch is ‘redumbed’ rather than redeemed.

Next to run the comedy gauntlet is Zach Mandeville. His sketch centres on a boyfriend being introduced to his new girlfriend’s besties but who is unable to recognise himself in a mirror. Hilaga does a particularly well-developed job of taking on the role of the boyfriend who keeps trying to order drinks from his own reflection. I decided this clever idea was worthy of my orange ball and flung it at the end along with many other audience members, so redeeming Mandeville’s sketch and earning him the paper crown.

Last up was an improvised musical from Lia Kelly called Pacifist Praying Mantis Wedding. The on-the-spot songs were a little hit and miss, but Harrison and Hilaga’s arm-swaying duet with dubious backing vocals was a winner. Sketch redeemed!

With a fresh spin on improv, vibrant hosts, and a talented cast, Redemption is another success for an award-winning duo.

Henry Yan is an Auckland-born comedian, now based in Melbourne. His stage persona is “nerdy but cool”, with a quirky delivery style that emphasises social awkwardness. Whether ‘real’ or not isn’t relevant; in Mum Wants A Girlfriend (For Me)?, it becomes the engine of a superbly warm, funny, and unexpectedly affecting performance.

Yan riffs on dating apps, office life, Excel, engineering, weddings, Instagram algorithms, and, in one glorious detour, the case for replacing cars with horses. The topic jumps are more cleverly constructed than they appear; they all return to the central anxiety of being single, wanting connection, and not quite knowing how to ask for it.

What lifts the show is Yan’s control of discomfort. He tells us early that part of his comedy involves sitting in tension until it moves, and he keeps that promise. Pauses, soft “yeahs”, and sudden reversals become part of the rhythm. A punchline often arrives just after the moment when silence has become almost too exposed.

That leads to an authentic performance. The key theme underlying this show is to find the love in yourself before seeking it in others. Easy to say; hard to do.

Nonetheless, we can all relate. Not everyone enjoys being single. Yet Yan is not afraid to tackle this head-on. The angst around reciprocated affection, the judgement of a person only just met, and the social pressure to find a partner form a structural backbone supporting the underlying theme.

My personal surprise was Yan’s effectiveness at interacting with his audience. Audience members were gently drawn into the performance as it unfolded, with the exchanges creating a sense of shared vulnerability. That allowed the bigger laughs to land harder and the reflective moments to feel earned.

Authentic, quirky, skilfully uncomfortable, and utterly relatable, this was a genuinely impressive hour. Yan is already a very funny comedian. He has the craft and emotional intelligence to become a distinctive one.

Have you ever wondered what teachers talk about when nobody else is listening? I found out for myself at Australian teacher and comedian Ben Knight’s first-ever performance in New Zealand, as part of the NZ International Comedy Festival. In his show The Parent/Teacher Interview, the self-proclaimed bogan-hippie invites you for an evening filled with hilarious insights into the life of a teacher. These insights include, but are not limited to, the most outrageous kid names he encountered (my personal winner is Crystal-Beth) and the relatable fear of forgetting where the ‘h’ goes in yoghurt while spelling it out on the whiteboard.

Throughout the night, Knight interrupts his witty reflections on teachers, students, and parents with self-written rap songs about the difficulties of teaching the English alphabet, performed at an impressive speed. One of my favorite sketches of the night is his lesson on ‘teacher code’, in which he shows the audience how to interpret annual student evaluations. Who knew, for instance, that ‘Billy is a spirited child’ can be directly translated to ‘Billy needs to sit the f*** down’. This makes me look back and smile at some of my own report cards, wondering what my teachers might have actually thought about me.

What’s almost the most entertaining, however, is Knight’s warm engagement with the crowd. From bonding with the only other ginger in the room (Hey, James!) to teacher banter and even ordering a guest a gin, the way he includes the audience is outstandingly funny. His quick comebacks turn this ‘supportive classroom environment’ into a space that’s instantly welcoming and inclusive.

As Knight himself admits, he has the same sense of humor as his third-grade students, and I am not mad about it. He says out loud what teachers are not allowed to say, but, judging by the laughter in the crowd, most certainly think. The Parent/Teacher Interview is a hilariously entertaining show for anyone in education, or just simply anyone who has ever gone to school.

It’s a little difficult to know what to say about the sequel to a cult classic like The Devil Wears Prada. Set 20 years after where we left off, Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) has become a successul investigative journalist, Emily (Emily Blunt) has become a fashion executive at Christian Dior, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) is still the editor-in-chief of Runway magazine – though the magazine is struggling with the decline of print media, and she is no longer allowed to throw her coat at her interns due to HR complaints – and Nigel (Stanley Tucci) is still as loyal and charming as ever.

What ensues is a tide of glamour and high fashion (with a surprising number of sequins, dungarees, and culottes), endless references to the original lore to make the fans happy, and a movie that oscillates from so-bad-it’s-good to plain bad from start to finish.

But can we ask for much from a sequel? The script was sharp and full of the quotable one liners that made the first such a hit – especially from Miranda, Emily, and Nigel. The plot was modern, with talk of Ozempic, glow ups, and viral memes. Streep and Tucci give phenomenal performances. It was fun picking out the celebrities making brief cameos, from Lady Gaga to Donatella Versace. It was slightly amusing watching them poke fun at the rise of tech bro giants and the subsequent loss of artistry and humanity that comes with AI.

What really bothered me was Andy Sachs. Following an online faux pas from Runway she is called in to save the day. It’s hard to believe in her moral integrity as a do-good investigative journalist when it slips out the backdoor the second she enters the high-fashion building, is taken to the dressing room, and loaned a Gabriela Hearst maxi dress before heading off to the Hamptons. What’s more, and this is a personal preference, but watching The Devil Wears Prada 2 in today’s climate felt almost as tone deaf as when the makers of Sex and the City 2 thought offering up a glitzy sequel would provide an escape from the gloom of the financial crisis of 2010. But hey, it was fun. I laughed. I cringed. It’s a sequel to a classic. You might as well go check it out.

2026 Billy T Award nominee Samantha Hannah is back from maternity leave with a killer new show this NZ International Comedy Festival. Peekaboo! is about parenthood, pregnancy, and finding joy wherever you can. If that sounds heartwarming and life affirming to you, well, you’re nearly right. “I like to use the ring camera to watch my partner almost miss the bus”, Hannah says wistfully, as security footage of the father of her child plays on the projector screen behind her. The audience chuckles as he lollops up the driveway, half-breaking into a run. He’s late, and just as he rounds the corner, an impeccably timed bus sails past. Hannah looks back at us and grins. She’s practically glowing with joy.

Under the pretence of developing a ‘family-friendly show’, Hannah gives us storytime and sex jokes, toy boxes full of bubbleguns, body horror, a giant teddy bear that has to be seen to be believed, and a little bit of ‘screentime’ (as a treat), all the while revelling in the absurd specificities of how we communicate with adults and children. The game for the audience is in the gleeful sense of transgression that ensues when Hannah crosses those boundaries. “And how old are you?” she asks the man sitting next to me. “29?” she gasps encouragingly, “You’re a big boy!”

There were some technical hiccups on opening night, but Hannah is so enormously funny and quick-witted that I’m not convinced flawlessness would have improved the experience (watching her ‘gentle parent’ the stage technician through their botched cues almost killed me).

Hannah has total control of the room, never misses a beat, and by 10 minutes in, the audience was so completely on her side that she got away with eviscerating national treasure Lynley Dodd live on stage. An absolute icon.