Content Warning: Racism

It’s opening night. Ten minutes before the show, Andrew Locascio pokes his head through the ruby-velvet curtain. With a cheeky grin to his awaiting audience, he says, “don’t worry guys, the show’s purely rhetorical”. Assured that this wasn’t one of those awkward audience participation situations, the atmosphere felt tangibly at ease. Before even beginning his show, Locascio had managed to dispel discomfort - and he maintained this throughout the evening.

Locascio’s show, ‘Don’t Call Me a Wog’, as a part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, is lighthearted and effortless. It’s comfortable; it elicits a sense of ease. It’s a homey kind of funny, like telling your family daily anecdotes over dinner. Locascio is witty, with a sharp sense of comedic rhythm. His comedy is undoubtedly self-aware – he pokes at himself, not in a deprecating sense, but in a sincere way. This honesty is both hilarious and, at times, vulnerable. Locascio uses PowerPoint slides throughout his show. He starts off the show with a home video from his childhood. That niche Dad’s-old-videocam-nostalgia hits you from the outset, and it invites the audience into his life, home, and culture. Locascio’s comedy is unafraid, unrestricted and unabashedly funny.

He reflects on his childhood self with wisdom and a wince. Growing up half Italian and half Greek in Australia wasn’t always easy. Locascio centres himself between contrasting dynamics – in this interview, he describes how he is Greek and Italian, how he was an obese child, and now he’s skinny. He used to work in hospitality, and then he entered the corporate world. He was born into a world of VHS, and now he’s in the social media age. Being everywhere and nowhere, Locascio’s comedy is inspired by the in-between.

Of course, Locascio’s show is equipped with all the right jokes to make the ‘wog’ audience members feel right at home. As an Italian, I continuously chuckled at his hilariously accurate depiction of my upbringing. But of course, Locascio doesn’t want to be a token. Locascio makes it clear that his show isn’t just for people like himself. Locascio refuses to be pigeonholed into an arbitrary category of what kind of jokes he can and can’t do. He speaks of his experience in the specific entertainment niche of wog comedy – after which he decidedly labels himself as ‘Not Your Wog Comedian’.

Locascio’s show, at its core, tells a story. His quick quips steer the audience through the journey of his overarching narrative. His humour makes you feel comfortable - it’s not until later that you realise that maybe Locascio isn’t just here to make you laugh. Locascio isn’t just a jester; he’s here to make a point.

Locascio has a bone to pick with stereotypes. He hates how they tried to define his brand of comedy. He hates how they have been used against him in his past to make him feel ashamed. He hates that stereotypes are invasive, taking residence inside the minds of those they are wielded against, convincing them that they are nothing more than this category. But most of all, he hates that they fuel internalised racism, which led him to wield these stereotypes against his own people.

Australia’s home brand of racism has shifted from targeting Italians and Greeks, moving to other minority groups. Locascio recounts that recently he was asked whether the word ‘wog’ is even a slur anymore, given that racist narratives in Australia have deterred from targeting Greeks and Italians. Whilst the situation for this minority might have changed, Locascio tells us that the legacy of this racism lives on. In the show’s conclusion, Locascio holds up a mirror to himself, the audience and society in a surprise twist to the political.

Locascio’s show isn’t just for ‘wogs’. Locascio’s performance isn’t just about ‘wogs’ either. But, it’s funny, and it’ll make you think.