Felicity Ward: The Iceberg

Oz standup Felicity Ward, with her bouncy corkscrew hair, voluminous print trousers and white micro vest, looks a 1970s exercise video instructor as she hops around her little Underbelly stage.

She’s got plenty of zip, has Ward, and she’s a master at getting the audience onside. For a start, there’s a lot of self-deprecating anti-Australia jibes and she’s quick to call herself out when she smugly tries to talk Spanish to a Portuguese man in the audience. She’s also happy to fully commit to a reverse body roll to demonstrate just how, exactly, to bring sexy back, and even the Scottish get an easy ride for once. The crowd interactions are always blithe and breezy, never confrontational.

It’s a handy trait to have, but, as Ward is keen to convey, it’s just a part of her “iceberg”. You see, the thing about icebergs, is that you only ever see part of them. Bits melt. And bits break off. And all of it is pretty transparent. And… well, you get the idea.

The theme seems like a bit of a hindrance at times, when in fact Ward’s at her best simply giving us little glimpses of life on Planet Felicity. She re-enacts the three stages of crying to the sound of ‘El Cóndor Pasa’, gorges on German “grief bacon” (look it up) and dreams of a more practical sex line for the over-30s. It’s matey, mostly successful and whilst the show mightn’t explode with originality, Ward’s finale is a real wrong-footing gem that proves there’s far more than mere whimsical wonderings at work here.