Vale The Cheap Seats 2024

Whenever the conversation turns to discussing what kinds of comedy programs we need in 2024, the same classics are pushed forward. “We need another Late Show,” we hear. “Bring back The Big Gig,” is another one. “It’s time to revive Good News Week,” says someone we didn’t invite. “What about The Glasshouse?” and yeah, we’re going to have to stop you there.

These views are all wrong and here’s why: when those shows were being made, they were all tapping into a pre-existing group of highly skilled and often very funny performers. That’s why they worked! Seriously, just look at the cast lists. There might be a few duds, and there’s definitely a few people we don’t find all that funny, but all of those shows featured, by Australian standards, A-grade talent.

But the temptation is to think that it’s the format that made the show great. “If only we had a regular show that was a collection of wacky segments fronted by various people, some of them would have to be great, right?” No, they wouldn’t.

Those shows worked because they were made by extremely talented people who had been honing their skills off camera for ages, and – this bit is often overlooked – were almost always getting their big break. They had a lot to lose so they threw everything into it: if the show had failed, they’d have gone to the back of a fairly lengthy queue.

(for an example of what happens when this kind of show doesn’t work out, where’s everyone from Tonightly these days? Sure, they’re still getting work, but they’re not getting regular TV hosting work. Tom Ballard is not the next Charlie Pickering, which is probably a good thing for all concerned)

The trouble with trying to revive the old Big Gig format today is that you end up with a bunch of people who all have their own solo careers and who all see the show as just another gig because in 2024 even if the show is a massive success you’re just one cast member out of half a dozen strangers brought together by a producer. You’re keeping your stand up career going in the background, you’re planning a move overseas, you can’t afford to burn through all your best material in a few weeks. Everyone is hoping someone else is the one who’s going to bring 110% and make the show a hit; everyone is sitting on the coattails but nobody’s wearing the coat.

The end result is something very much like Question Everything, a show that nobody would confuse with The Big Gig or The Late Show but which is very much the 2024 version of the format: five or six comedians showing off how funny they are on a low budget. Because today’s comedians are all stand-ups rather than sketch performers or hardcore buskers, you get stand-up rather than sketches or performances; because “low budget” now means “one studio, no rehearsal time, we bring in a different batch of stand ups each week because then they’re guests rather than cast”, you get Question Everything.

It’s certainly possible to imagine many of the panellists on Question Everything being part of a much funnier show. But that show would have to be one where they had the time and space to work up some really funny material. There’d have to be a clear benefit for them, whether it be decent pay or an obvious path to fame and fortune. Thirty years ago, if you were a comedian Australian television could occasionally provide those things. Today? Don’t make us laugh.

For a comedy format that does work in 2024, we take you now to The Cheap Seats, which is basically the opposite of The Big Gig format. Rather than a show where anything can happen, it’s a show where a very small amount of things can happen: jokes about television clips. It has a very small cast (it’d be slightly bigger if they could find a regular sports reporter) who do the same thing every week. It also happens to be one of the funniest shows on Australian television, which is not something you can say about Question Everything.

Rather than trying to do a whole bunch of things that might be funny, it does one thing that is funny over and over again. Rather than bringing in a whole bunch of people who might be funny, it has two hosts (and one arts & entertainment reporter) who are funny, and then lets them be funny for the entirety of the show. Rather than just slapping together a crazy funhouse where people are expected to tune in because anything can happen, it says “this is what we’re doing and we’re good at it”.

If only we had a half dozen more shows like it.