REVIEWS

Rachel Berger - Perfect

There is no doubt Rachel Berger is one of Australia's favourite stand-up performers. She's been near the top of the comedy tree for a very long time, being well established before becoming one of the mainstays of the ABC's Big Gig of the late '80s. To turn on a show of such freshness and vibrancy in 2002 says a lot about her ability.

It's not a perfect show, but that's the point. As Ms Berger will frequently and rapidly remind you, you can only hurt yourself if you try to achieve perfection. Perhaps the show could be called "Imperfect".

The evening contains a lot of very personal material: a far from perfect relationship with mother, odd recollections of limbless father and his butchered mates (the results of Second World War persecution), and annoying chit-chat in the middle of a gynaecological examination. During one of these intimate inspections she discovered she has the testosterone levels of a man; apparently the by-product of years of running on performer's adrenaline. Experience this hour of machine gun delivery and ricocheting thoughts, and you realise she must be as pumped as any AFL footballer.

So, like Rachel and her Jewish family, we are all a mess and most of the world is rooted. There should be theme parks based around people's problems. Politicians like Philip Ruddock should understand that refugees can't stand in queues with orderly immigration papers. As a tender child, you might have to be photographed from an angle that hides your imperfections. Even the Hire-A-Hubby bloke will turn out to be like the couch-potato you married. And at some stage of your life you can depend on suffering from some sort of syndrome. However, Tourette's Syndrome can be useful when dealing with idiot customer service officers over the phone.

And you can even make mistakes with the lyrics when trying to close the set with an ode to Sara Lee. The audience will still love it, because if you're Rachel Berger you may not be perfect, but you are damned good.

- Reviewed by Colin Donald, Stage Left