Sometimes, effective comedy is just about committing to the bit. Stepping out of the iconic Nicholson Building on the evening of Friday, March 31, after seeing Brendan Wan’s Yummy Yummy Cha Cha I couldn’t help but express admiration at how wholeheartedly Wan committed to the bit.

The advertising copy promises that “if you're looking for political satire, cathartic comedy about the Chinese-Australian experience or observations on modern life – this is not the show.” And it isn’t! Wan, who has previously appeared across broadcast radio and television, delivered an hour of sketch-PowerPoint-musical comedy where he slipped between personas with ease.

The show opened with a solemn Wan in the role of weekend Chinese school teacher, leading a half-aware, half-unsuspecting audience through such sentences in Mandarin as “I like to cry” and descriptions of impending divorce. From there, we were taken across a comedy show that is wholly irreverent, leaning heavily upon “toilet humour” more than once—a totally serious blues song about eating ass, a Chinese doctor who diagnoses people by the sound of their farts. At other times, he’s a cabaret performer song parodies about bread (a.k.a. a ‘cabread’ singer, a bit complete with a joke about other cabread singers selling out); he’s ordering the assassinations of audience members; he’s seeing us out on the ukulele.

Wan is supported by Randy Adeva, who introduced himself to us in an interlude as “Brendan’s stunt double” while radiating “effortlessly laid-back surf bro” energy. At first, the audience seemed unsure of what to make of Adeva even whilst taking him onboard with enthusiasm. Mostly, Adeva’s skits seemed to build Brendan-as-comedian into his own character. As it turns out, Adeva helped set up an elaborate, bizarre, yet strangely fantastic twist—the payoff is delightful in how startling it is. Vague? You have to see it to get it. 

A particular highlight for me came early on in the show when Wan stepped into the role of triad leader at a business meeting in an obvious spoof of corporate marketing meetings—stock photo slideshows and all. Young people love Gong Cha! Wan even committed to filming a TikTok in character, checking every box for this corporate satire before drawing the scenario to a satisfying flourish of an ending.

In introducing another segment, Wan told us that karaoke is all about committing to the bit, and this may as well have been the thesis of the show. Naturally, he then proceeded to continue doing just that—commit to the bit. Wan performed ‘Creep’ by Radiohead over a music video filmed around Melbourne in a clear spin-off of East Asian karaoke places pairing songs with totally irrelevant music videos, and then performed a breakdown, taking us from Brendan-as-comedian right back across the line to Brendan-in-character and never once breaking immersion. 

The wryly-named “cultural part of the show” has a similar fate, deliberately undercut and then played as. It is perhaps the closest Wan came to cultural commentary, to critique the idea that it is necessary. Sorry, but the reality of writing on a comedian of colour in a very white arts industry is that it can’t go unmentioned, wherein the absence of cultural commentary in YYCC is also its presence. Wan was content to embody Chinese characters for various sketches and occasionally to draw upon cultural shorthand for the sake of a punchline. He has far more interesting things than shaping his comedy around his ethnicity and vice versa; for example, there are fart jokes to tell.

YYCC is like if your youngest uncle or oldest cousin with the cool guy persona decided to put on a comedy show and remind everyone that he can both sing and act while he is at it. When many comedy shows are working to deliver on a tightly wrapped concept or take us on a journey, Wan demonstrates the virtues of just being silly in the best ways and generating a roomful of laughter while he is at it.