Hot Tub (Belvoir 25a) ★★★★

Written by Lewis Treston. World Premiere. Belvoir 25a. 6-21 Dec 2024.

Crass, crazy and thoroughly entertaining – you could do a lot worse than end your theatrical year at Belvoir’s downstairs 25a space watching Lewis Treston’s crime-family comedy, Hot Tub.

Young Dido (Melissa Kahraman) has come to the Gold Coast for Schoolies and to visit her dad, Murray (Kieran McGrath), and ask him for money. He lives at The Great White with his new wife, the mystical/mystifying Jade (Shannon Ryan), her avaricious, nihilistic twink son Reese (Jack Calver), and Jade’s mother, the family matriarch and owner of the building, the formidable Eunice (Diane Smith). But Dido’s plan isn’t working out. When Murray refuses to bankroll her drastic weight-loss surgery, she turns to more illicit means for the funds and finds herself under the eye of a well-meaning, not entirely mentally secure police officer (Ella Prince).

Belvoir has taken a big risk scheduling this uproariously funny comedy downstairs while the brilliantly bleak dramedy August: Osage County is upstairs – you wouldn’t want the sound of wild hilarity and dick jokes to bleed into the drama above. But there’s no denying the crowd-pleasing stupidity that Hot Tub is serving up. Treston knows how to create a scenario ripe with possibility and then stuff it full of filthy jokes like a Christmas turkey. Are the jokes cheap? Yes. Are they funny anyway? Definitely yes. Just when you’ve finished laughing at the pink dildo being waved in the audience’s face, three more punchlines have snuck up to turkey-slap you.

Normally, this is the kind of crude comedy I would roll my eyes at, but the laughs are backed up by a genuinely empathetic performance from Kahraman as Dido, who is just a young girl trying to figure out her life and make it into something better. She may make a series of bad decisions, but the motivation behind it all is sweetly relatable. Around her, the cast gets to run riot as they fully commit to the bit – whether that means squeezing into unflattering budgie smugglers, slinging on a jockstrap, or playing in the eponymous heated pool (in fact, a ball pit). The show is full of silly micro-moments, a look here and a movement there, that never steal the spotlight but come from serious character work.

Behind it all, the real star of the show is director Riley Spadaro, who keeps this three-ring circus of stupidity in check. The plot, as bizarre as it is, is always prominent, and the characters are focused. The action scenes are tight, and for all the apparent on-stage chaos, there is a clear vision and guiding hand. Unlike many similar comedies, this one never loses its humanity.

Nothing about Hot Tub feels like a 25a show. I say that as a compliment, but also as an existential inquiry. This show is so well presented it could easily be a mainstage show upstairs. A bespoke neon sign (13 letters, plus waves and a shark fin), carpentry, multiple costumes and props, not to mention a complete repaint of the theatre’s interior… they certainly got a lot of bang for their 25a (“less than $2500”) budget.

Hot Tub doesn’t have a moral or message to deliver; it simply exists to make you laugh and is very good at what it does. It’s clear that Treston’s comedy chops are well-honed and here to party in this homegrown slice of silliness.