REVIEW: Thank God You're Queer - Second Beat Productions, Big Fork Theatre

Walking through the rainbow door of Thank God You’re Queer, I immediately thought, “Okay, this is either going to be brilliant or super difficult to review without mentioning the word dildo.” Turns out, it was both.

Brought to you by Brisbane Powerhouse in partnership with Second Beat Productions and Big Fork Theatre, this improv show took the popular format of Thank God You’re Here, added a splash of queer chaos, and turned it into a competition to crown Brisbane’s Best Ally. The show was held in the big tent at Brisbane Powerhouse during the Brisbane Comedy Festival. I'm really hoping it returns for the Melt Festival because I arrived late, having been outside awkwardly shouting at Will Gibb from my scooter, letting him know I'm a fan.

I grew up watching Thank God You’re Here on TV and absolutely loved the thrill of seeing someone walk through a door with no idea what they were walking into. This version kept that same panic, but gave it a sharper, queerer, more unhinged twist. The setup was a showdown between a queer cast and a straight cast, with the straight guest improvisers tossed into scenes based on audience-submitted prompts. They entered each scene with only seconds to catch up, smile through the fear, and pretend they understood what was happening. It was beautiful...

The show was hosted by Daniel Kirkby, who kept things lively with their quick wit and easy command of the room. The pace was fast, with scenes launching before anyone had time to overthink them. Ideas appeared, mutated, and became fully formed comedy in the space of seconds. The joy of improv is that no two audiences will ever see the same show, which means I can technically spoil everything and ruin nothing. That is a very freeing feeling as a reviewer! So, I can tell you that there was a pirate search for buried treasure, aka boobs, a sexy caveman scenario, a Mary Poppins moment that took a sudden turn away from Disney innocence, and a kink fair featuring a hand-holding stall that was so stupidly adorable.

The comedy worked best when it found the sweet spot between cleverness and nonsense. This cast was insanely intelligent and witty. They were building worlds, picking up cues, setting each other up, and then gleefully knocking the whole thing sideways. I loved the fumbling humour of it all, especially in those early moments when the guest has about ten seconds to figure out the prompt, the scene, the tone, and make sure they didn’t accidentally say something totally off the wall.

The straight cast, made up of Taylor Edwards, Luka Dale, Liz Talbot, and Rhys McCane, understood the assignment, which was essentially: “be game, be goofy, and let yourself be roasted for heterosexuality.” There was no defensiveness to their performances, only willingness. They made fools of themselves with great skill, which is exactly what this format needs. As with any improv, not every line hit the mark, but that was part of the thrill. The show moved too quickly for any weaker moment to matter for long. Writing your own dialogue in real time, while also listening, reacting, building character, following the scene, and trying not to derail the entire thing, is no small task. The best moments had a slightly edgy feeling, as if everyone onstage was only one choice away from disaster, but trusted each other enough to jump anyway.

Liz Talbot was particularly brilliant as a science teacher, explaining complete nonsense with the confidence of a Year 10 biology teacher who's seen it all. Rhys McCane was also a standout in the caveman scene, which reached a level of ridiculousness that made me wonder how many centuries of human evolution led us to that moment. And when elderly Mrs. Mabel showed us “safe spanking,” the show reminded us that it is definitely not family-friendly programming. At one point, a Mary Poppins-inspired bit gave us the immortal line, “When there’s a job that must be done, you just stick it up your bum!” I do not know what Julie Andrews would have thought, but I know what the audience thought, because we were howling.

Taylor Edwards snagged the title of Brisbane’s Best Ally, chosen by a crowd reaction. Her scene redesigning and rebranding a glory hole for council approval was so committed that I had completely forgotten the original prompt by the end of it. That's the power of great improv: you kick off with a basic concept and somehow wind up at a civic infrastructure planning meeting for sexual innovation.

The queer cast, including Ollie Windsor, Beef, Caitlin McGrath, Cameron Watson, and Kelsey Wynn, were the engine of the show. They stayed alive to every shift in the room, feeding each other ideas, redirecting scenes without derailing them, and knowing when to heighten a joke or hand the spotlight over. Kelsey Wynn really stood out to me with her strong character choices, playful voice work, and sharp instinct for shaping the story.

One of my favourite scenes involved made-up queer terms being explained to a supportive mum and a deeply confused dad because it also captured what the show did so well: celebrating queer experience without flattening it into one thing. All the prompts allowed room for identity, awkwardness, language play, community, and the challenge of explaining yourself to loved ones who are still catching up.

I left feeling part of the joke, part of the crowd, and completely unable to hear Mary Poppins the same way again. Thank God You’re Queer worked because underneath all the filth and nonsense, the cast were seriously good at what they were doing. Thank god.