Review: Med Revue 2022 — I Write Jokes About COVID Not Tragedies
The veritable Brendon Uries of Australia’s top-ranked medical school parlayed three years of momentum into what was, at times, a double-edged sword.
Picture this: You’re a Medicine student at the University of Sydney. Time poor and sleep deprived, you languish through 30-odd hours of class a week in first year, and pull 40-hour plus weeks at the hospital by third year — the mere thought of which would make any Arts student’s eyes water. Now add rehearsals for a sketch comedy show on top of it all.
This is the plight we must assume of the assorted performers and musicians behind Med Revue 2022: Pandemic! At The Disco, which graced the Seymour Centre’s Everest Theatre following an extended absence. A narrative familiar to the faculty revues (read: Science, Law, Arts, and Commerce), the veritable Brendon Uries of Australia’s top-ranked medical school parlayed three years of momentum into what was, at times, a double-edged sword. For every double entendre about the use of a speculum in the bedroom, there were lockdown, Gladys Berejiklian, and other generally COVID-pilled jokes that erred on the side of overfamiliarity. That said, the intended demographic was undeniable: if you’re a Medicine student, you will enjoy this show.
Our performance opens on an ‘Unnamed Cast Member’ stumbling home from Med Revue 2019 (‘A Registar is Born’ for the uninitiated) and falling asleep for three years. It’s unclear whether the subsequent show occurs in their absence or in their dreams, but the audience is promptly thrust into an odyssey of riffs on over-caffeinated medical students on the brink of exam failure and two (2) Encanto parodies (‘We Don’t Talk About Lockdown’ and ‘Surface Pressure’).
Some of the greatest strengths of the revue were when it dared to stray into the left field. A clinical school rap battle a la Epic Rap Battles of History, where we learn that nobody wants to work at Nepean Hospital and everyone forgets that Concord Hospital exists, managed to evade the potential cringe-factor with sharply written lyrics. One of the show's highlights was a slapdash heart, brain, and bowel surgery performed entirely in mime with accompanying side stage foley. I won’t soon forget the squelching sound of the patient’s small intestine as the surgeon used it as a skipping rope, nor the genuinely loud laugh I let out when he played peekaboo with the patient’s removed — still-beating — heart.
While the show was blessed with a live band, they could have been utilised more, with only a few instances of performance in cohesion with the actors onstage. Live musical transitions between sketches were an unfortunate missed opportunity, with many instead concluding with a fade-down of the lights and the audience being left in dark silence while the next sketch was set up. Yet, when the band were given moments of stardom, indeed they shone. An extended ‘medical musicology’ segment in which the band’s conductor addressed the audience directly and illustrated the spread of disease through a rousing performance of ‘Tequila’ gave ample opportunity to boast their musical chops. Particular props go to the trumpeter who, with disposal face mask slung over the end of their trumpet, performed some impressive licks.
Of the several AV sketches in the revue, one head-scratcher was a facetious guide on how to break staff strike picket lines in order to get to classes, including — but not limited to — using brute force to break through and pretending to be in cardiac arrest. This was something of a peculiar dichotomy when considered alongside the later ‘Doctor’s Licence’, a fairly serious, deadpan Olivia Rodrigo parody that bemoaned the overworked and underpaid experience ubiquitous to students and interns entering the profession.
However, ensemble song and dance sketches, of which there were several, were able to bring me back on side. An early ‘Be Prepared’ parody spun the Lion King classic into a retrospective warning on the dangers of pandemic, where soloists Siupeli Haukoloa, Bella Kontorovich, Marc Aloi, and Nayana Jose, showcased ample vocal talent as disgruntled students and the COVID variants themselves alike. An exceedingly jazzy rendition of Peggy Lee’s ‘Fever’ was a highlight to close out the first act, and allowed several members of the dancing ensemble to perform various acrobatic moves that were downright impressive.
Despite the odd song proving that some performers were more up to the challenge of singing while dancing than others, such is to be expected on the opening night of a production where the goal is to simply have fun. While Med Revue could have dispensed with a handful of its pandemic and disgraced politician humour that felt more circa September 2021 than 2022, the evident zeal of its performers wasn’t lost on the audience, and for that director and script editor Alisha Sethi, and the rest of the creative team, should be commended.