Eli Matthewson: Night Terror ★★★★

Enduring a series of personal, close-to-home incidents, including robbery and attempted murder, and then documenting the resulting anxiety that follows, doesn’t sound like the most jovial premise. But award-winning New Zealand comic, writer and broadcaster, Eli Matthewson’s show makes light work of what could have been some heavy-duty fare.

Night Terror seamlessly trades vulnerability and irreverence, transforming a potentially harrowing event – being mistaken for a home intruder and briefly strangled by his own partner – into the emotional pivot point of a buoyant and sharply observational offering. What might have triggered a descent into trauma is instead used to introduce stories of queer relationships, pop culture, and the absurdity of modern life.

Matthewson’s delivery is effortlessly laidback as he shifts from tales of performing fan fiction about Margaret Thatcher, to recountings of a gay cruise with 2,000 men and the inevitable messy escapades that flow from that. Even a potentially downbeat segment about installing security cameras after multiple break-ins becomes a means of delivering surreal, self-aware humour involving the theft of decidedly camp garden furniture.

This is comedy that balances camp with candour. Matthewson tackles a broad gamut of themes, from his own mixed feelings regarding political activism, to the evolution of religion, and the exhausting and exhausted dominance of superhero cinema. It’s all delivered with an arched eyebrow rather than a wagging finger. His reflections on queerness, class, and growing older feel refreshingly nuanced rather than hectoring. A take on one-upmanship during art gallery visits is particularly incisive and hilarious.

The show’s structure may feel loose at times, with tangents on Ed Sheeran and supplement-based sex advice, but this meandering is part of its charm.

Night Terror is that most generous of comedy things: a personal show that feels inclusive, offering a series of vignettes that invite introspection without ever getting preachy. Matthewson manages to find joy, absurdity, and even a few kinky surprises in the disorder of life—and you’ll leave laughing, and possibly checking your own security camera footage just a little more closely. You’ll, certainly, never think of a Berocca in the same way again!