Centre stage at Hannah Playhouse is a white stove. The self-intro comes over the PA, then the oven door opens and Mo Munn is birthed from within, head first on hands and knees with microphone in one hand. Seventy minutes of intense comedy-as-therapy follows.

The “splash of OCD” mentioned in the promotional material is the central idea of the show. Is the oven off? The performance and the promo both indicate OCD is Munn’s diagnosed condition, not a character’s. Munn talks us through her experience amid edgy jokes, short skits and farcical songs in rapid succession.

The singing is not mentioned in the promo and it is one of the most impressive parts of the show. Munn is a beautiful singer, confident rapper and accompanies herself on keyboard. The songs continue the narrative, describing farcical events in Munn’s life. As well as her OCD, Munn links to her sex life, marriage, day-job, experiences of every-day racism, and bodily functions.

Short skits play out some of these events, showcasing Munn’s physical comedy and getting the most laughs. Her belly-button piercing is a standout memory, as is her crying behind a window in the rain. Her fearless comedic acting, relatable self-awareness and mobile face make these scenes hilarious.

By the end of the show we are all in her palm. She manipulates us at one point into being incapable of silence, a room of naughty children unable to stop laughing; while minutes later you can hear a pin drop, as she silences us with a quick change of tone and expression.

Standup comedy forms the structure and the glue of the show, around the skits and songs. The jokes are personal, uninhibited and often involve moistness. Munn is confident enough to carry this off and has a collection of verbal signals that water down the shock for the more sensitive audience members – letting them know she is aware she is transgressing. Sarah Millican’s homely and frank approach to intensely personal material comes to mind. In comparison, Munn is less certain of herself, but just as frank. While not as funny as her physical comedy, this material is worth developing for her. Like Millican’s comedy, it is honest, endearing and self-affirming for the audience.

We leave the show really liking this new person we have met, wanting to see her again. Whether it is this same show or her next creation, I will be coming again for Munn’s warm personality, dedicated preparation and performance, talented singing and acting and her wicked sense of humour.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

“Is it on?” are the first words Mo Munn utters, off stage. I assume she means her mic – but no. It’s the stove, the oven, which sits centre-stage in the compact Te Auaha Gallery.

Despite all the OCD anxiety it gives her, she loves that oven. And given the way she makes her entrance, one may see it as a metaphor for her mother. Not that she suggests that. We could even call it cupboard love, given the way it keeps on giving. Except that’s not what ‘cupboard love’ means. I can’t be more explicit without committing spoiler crime. The point is, it signals we are in more than stock-standard stand-up comedy.

Mo, who has just turned 30, confesses she’s incapable of keeping secrets so compulsively shares some, mostly about herself – about jobs, meetings, moisture, what she collected as a kid, teenage boys … She questions the value of such things as spiritual animals and washing towels, asks, “What if Mary Poppins was Māori?” and gives us hilarious highlights from that version.

It may be because we are her first audience that Mo peppers her performance with nervous-cum-delighted giggles, mostly because we’re reacting well. Or maybe that’s just who she is. Either way, she has devised a show that carries her through a range of emotions and moods that enrich her mahi most when she fully commits to each one.  

Pirates, pole-dancing and piercings each get a run for our money. The secrets of her marriage – 11 years and counting – include roleplays in the bedroom, birthday presents and her preferred colour of M&Ms. After inserting sausages into well-known songs – also hilarious – Mo plucks from a jar pre-written answers to what our obsessions are, and riffs off them.

Recalling the early 2000s offers nostalgia for most of the audience. I’ve noted ‘Beebo’ and now Google it to find a list of 13 possibilities. I’m guessing she means the furry blue toy, worshipped by Vikings. I also noted Juicy Fest only to discover that was liquidated early this year.

We learn what would be bitter-sweet for her father and are amused by mimed plastic gloves before being treated to her over-sharing rap-song, ‘I’m part of the Problem / But At Least I’m Part of Something’. This proves to be an ingenious way of recapping the wealth of material Mo has romped through for our entertainment

The thoughtfulness of her husband is exemplified through her sojourn in hospital and a getaway to Martinborough. His qualities are even compared to the oven! But when it comes to the love song that closes the show, guess which wins out.

When Mo Munn is on point in Is it Off? her show goes off in very good way. It deserves to travel far and wide, as long as the oven is up for that.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer