Still only in her mid-20s, Melanie Bracewell has already established herself as one of Aotearoa’s most loved and successful comics.
As well as stand-up honours such as Best Newcomer at the 2017 NZ Comedy Festival, winner of the 2018 Billy T Award (“especially proud of that one as I remember watching the 2008 ceremony, when Steve Wrigley won, with my dad”), and the 2021 Director’s Choice Award at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, Melanie has been recognised for her writing on Wellington Paranormal by the NZ Comedy Guild.
If that’s not enough, she’s also written for and appeared on the likes of 7 Days, and Have You Been Paying Attention? and has a seriously substantial following on social media – where she went viral thanks to her impersonations of Jacinda Ardern. Little wonder that earlier this year she was pinched by the Aussies to co-host her own show, The Cheap Seats, on Network 10. I begin our chat by asking how lockdown life compares between the two nations.
“It was all open when we arrived, but then a week later we went into lockdown,” recalls the comedian from her Melbourne home, via Zoom. “It’s been a rather tumultuous few months, the lockdown here is kind of like a New Zealand level three – you can still get takeaways and Uber Eats.”
You’ll always have a strange kind of connection with Covid thanks your impersonation of Jacinda Ardern, were you shocked it went so viral?
“It was interesting because when I first started with the videos, I almost had to point out who she was. But then she almost became the face the of the pandemic and it reached the point where all I had to do was put lipstick on and people were like, ‘Oh my god, you look just like her!’ I guess I jumped on the train at the right time.”
Did Clarke Gayford share his thoughts on the impersonation when he appeared on Wellington Paranormal?
“I’m very disconnected from that part of the show, but he would sometimes randomly DM to let me know that Russell Crowe had just retweeted me and I was like, this is not the real Jacinda, just so you know!”
Much of your work revolves around current affairs, have you always had an interest in the news?
“To an extent, yes. When I was a young, like every kid, when my parents had the news on, I’d be like, ‘Switch to Friends!’ but as I’ve grown older, I feel a need to be up to date. It feels actually relevant to my life, especially at times like these. But I am really bad at news quizzes, I think I consume far too much and don’t hold on to it.”
“Kiwi comedy is very self-deprecating, very humble – you don’t want people to think you actually like yourself – but Australians don’t always realise and can think you’re being serious with the self-hate.”
It must have been difficult to come up with material over the past couple of years?
“Yes, it’s hard to be observational in the confines of your home! I’m very much someone who works to deadlines, so the fact that I know I’m not allowed to do any gigs certainly doesn’t help.”
Does that sum up the general feeling among comics?
“Yeah, we have a sort of group chat where we discuss shows and there was a question posed about who was doing one next year and no one could commit to anything. Everyone’s feeling a little bit jaded.”
It must be strange performing to a masked audience?
“When I did the Melbourne Comedy Festival earlier this year, the rules were a little more ambiguous – if you had a drink, you could take the mask off. So, it obviously just turned into a loud, boozy crowd! But then it got stricter. And the thing is, sometimes Kiwi and Aussie audiences think that a smile is enough but don’t realise that we can’t actually see their reactions. Comedians need the crowd to be audible, so we know they’re enjoying it!”
How does working across the ditch compare?
“Both countries have very strong tall poppy syndrome, but Australia is certainly more sure of itself. Kiwi comedy is very self-deprecating, very humble – you don’t want people to think you actually like yourself – but Australians don’t always realise and can think you’re being serious with the self-hate! Australian television is also more risqué, and, I would say, some of the shows are borderline problematic!”
You’ve talked about being initially quite starstruck about working with Jemaine Clement on Wellington Paranormal, have you had similar pinch-yourself moments since?
“Jemaine was a big one because I was so psychotically obsessed with Flight of the Conchords. My parents would joke about the fact that they had an obsessed stalker called Mel! So, it was surreal to be working alongside someone I’d idolised so much and although there have been others who’ve been influence, none that have been such a big deal emotionally. Something I have noticed in Australia is that if you make a joke about someone, they will end up seeing it. We made a joke about the UK TV show Loose Women, and the next day they played our clips, which is kind of crazy.”
Have you noticed more women getting more opportunities within the industry?
“There is still a way to go, but it’s getting better. I only got started because when I was 15 my Tumblr account ended up with 100,000 followers. I think the thing with women is that, because historically we haven’t sees ourselves on TV and things like that, we need a little bit more reassurance, maybe realising after our tenth gig that it’s what we want to do, that it is possible. Whereas guys will see themselves on screen and be like, ‘Yeah, this is for me.’”
Did your social media background, which presumably involved dealing with a fair share or trolls, help prepare for dealing with hecklers?
“It’s an interesting question. When I first started on Tumblr, there was this horrid feature where you could send messages anonymously, which, as you can imagine, is not the healthiest of places for children to be. But I think at the very least, it made me more thick-skinned. The thing about heckling in New Zealand, it’s usually if they think they can add something to the joke, or it’s a two-way conversation. People go to gigs to have fun, but social media is more toxic.”
I ask Melanie if she was the typical class clown at school, but, surprisingly, she admits to being “a bit of cry baby” – especially when taunted by her eldest sister (Melanie’s the youngest of six siblings) – who just wanted to “do a good job at school”. Her mum is a very artsy person, while her dad (“the funniest person I know”) introduced Melanie to Monty Python and her beloved Flight of the Conchords. “The rest of my family are funny in different ways” she adds. “I was also a very sensitive child.” Being sensitive is useful for observation, I suggest. “I guess. There’s a fine line between sensitivity and empathy.”
Melanie says she’ll often ask permission before using loved ones in the hypothetical worlds of her routines, and her dad continues to pitch ideas that he thinks are funny. Her old man, I say, sounds as though he’s her biggest fan and must be immensely proud.
“I know he’s proud of me,” recounts Melanie with a giggle, “he tells me a lot when he’s drunk!” Then, with that trademark Kiwi self-deprecation, she adds: “And his favourite dad joke is to tell me that he still loves me… regardless of what everyone else says.”
WORDS — Jamie Christian Desplaces
