Like a sip of sherbet that sizzles on the tongue and delivers a quick sugar hit, PopRox Improv is back for another 2025 run of monthly intimate shows. This time the troupe roosts in the enclosed upstairs portico of Circa Theatre’s ChouChou bar. The quirky space has a tiny stage, minimal lights and a very wide, shallow seating area. Yet it works. Or rather, PopRox makes it work. The group is no stranger to playing in these liminal venues. Their choice of scenes plays to the strengths such a compressed room, with lots of crowd work and forays out onto the floor.

MC Austin Harrison’s delivery confidently projects over the bustle of the downstairs café as they deliver just the right amount of introductory patter. Tonight’s audience is familiar with improv as a format, but almost all are new to a PopRox show. It’s a good fit for a cast that is working out the dimensions of the venue and gearing up for what will be a months-long run of Sunday night shows.

There is an interesting challenge to putting on a cabaret-style comedy show at the genteel hour of 7pm. PopRox navigates it deftly, allowing room for comedy fans to load up on drinks without losing the interest of theatre fans who are in it for the long-form long haul. Tonight’s musician, Lia Kelly, has perhaps the most stamina out of all the cast, cracking through at least an hour and a half of uninterrupted high-energy solo piano work from pre-show, through the interval, to the big finish. The music cuts an insistent bluesy groove through any breaks in the format, and really helps sustain the audience’s positive vibes.

The show’s format is classic: one big story preceded by a quick warming up of the cast. The initial game seems a bit extraneous but might exist to help the guest star of the moment, easing them into the fray. Tonight’s guest is Mo Munn, and she really shines with a little support (and friendly ribbing) from her comedian colleagues. She transforms what could have been a stereotypical mother-figure character into a wonderfully inept and lovable maverick. Nina Hogg embraces villainy with playful abandon, while Lesa McLeod-Whiting delivers some delightfully timed bon-mots with the straightest of faces and manages not to break accent for an entire hour. Dylan Hutton somehow retains a soft and wholesome mien despite the onslaught of Freudian whimsy unfolding around his character.

The show’s humour revolves around surrealist storytelling and scene painting, with frequent madcap but short flashbacks, transitions and side-scenes that snap straight back to the action. A great example is a scene where Harrison is roped into embodying a sentient goldfish, then made to relive their fishy offspring’s tragic toilet-bowl demise.

There is something truly lovely about seeing a tight team of professional funny people surrendering centre stage to make each other look good. There is a little raciness, as one would expect from a cabaret-style format, but the gags never detract from the story or its emotional message. The empathy and camaraderie between the players outshines any technical challenges or initial awkwardness, giving the audience permission to have a good belly laugh without pestering them or forcing moments of emotion.

All in all, it’s a lovely way to spend a Sunday evening.

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