11/08/2026
𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰: 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐁*𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐗 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐭 (Darwin Fringe Festival, 17 July 2026)
“Fᴇᴀʀʟᴇssʟʏ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ, ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟʟʏ ꜰᴀʟʟɪʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢᴇᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟꜰ. Aɴɴᴀ Gᴏᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ — sʜᴇ ᴏᴡɴs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ sʜᴇ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ.” ★★★★★
𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.
It’s not the job of a reviewer to predict the future of a comedian or where their professional career might take them. However, after watching Anna Goat’s sold-out debut comedy show at Darwin Fringe Festival, it’s hard to deny that she could comfortably fill stages at much bigger festivals.
She would feel at home on them too.
Now, full disclosure: I was not going to review this show. Anna is a friend and fellow comedian, and I initially had reservations about reviewing her debut show because of that relationship. But sitting in the audience, I couldn’t deny increasing reasons I could assess the work objectively. I know comedy; I know the Darwin performance landscape. What happened on stage still had to earn my response — and it did.
As you entered Top Floor Comedy Darwin Goat passed out badges stated: "Gen X - you can go now"... but no one left.
Goat commands a room with an ease, relatability and connection that can take comedians years to develop. Perhaps her greatest strength is that she completely owns the woman she is at 50. And perhaps it has taken all of those years to understand that her biggest asset is exactly that: ownership.
There was clearly a lot of love for Anna in the room. But she didn’t take that love for granted.
Instead, she delivered a cleverly written, tightly constructed show with strength and confidence, balanced by just the right amount of vulnerability.
Goat’s triumphant first Fringe comedy show succeeds because she endears herself to the very people she represents. Whether it’s being ignored by her own children, admitting she was the kind of employee who couldn’t be led, or running triathlons because someone told her she couldn’t, there is a stubborn determination running through both her life and her comedy.
And it’s very funny.
Not simply because of the clarity of the writing and editing, but because no matter where you sat generationally — Gen X, Gen Y, Boomer or Millennial — there was something in Anna’s stories in which you could recognise yourself.
Importantly, she doesn’t rely on self-deprecation.
That can sometimes be the easy refuge of comedy: diminish yourself first and invite the audience to laugh along. Goat does something much more interesting.
She places herself alongside us.
She allows us all to be fallible and then finds the beauty — and the comedy — in that fallibility. She owns her mistakes. She owns her triumphs. She owns her stubbornness. And she doesn’t apologise for any of them.
She confidently shows us what it means to be a 50-year-old woman who has found herself on the other side of the planet from her posh upbringing — apparently without ever quite realising how posh she sounded — now navigating life in the hamlet of Rapid Creek.
And what a wonderfully specific world that becomes: There are the mung beans; the cyclist with the boombox; the parrot; the characters and idiosyncrasies of a suburb that, in Goat’s telling, has spent far too long playing second fiddle to Nightcliff.
Anna herself, however, has little interest in playing second fiddle.
She speaks intimately about work, family and her own inability to simply do what she is told, yet never feels the need to apologise for it. There’s something genuinely empowering underneath the laughs: an invitation to own our weaknesses as readily as our triumphs, to own the parts of ourselves that other people find difficult, and to resist the voices — even when those voices belong to the people closest to us — telling us that we can’t.
And this is perhaps where the show transcends simply being a collection of funny stories.
There is a clarity to Goat’s comedy that comes from knowing exactly whose story she is telling. She isn’t trying to be younger, cooler or more fashionable than she is. She isn’t asking the audience to pity the mistakes she has made or applaud her simply for surviving them. She presents herself as she is: stubborn, capable, fallible, competitive, occasionally difficult and completely comfortable with the contradictions.
That confidence creates connection.
It also explains why a show containing stories so particular to one woman’s life can feel surprisingly universal. You don’t need to have run a triathlon, raised Anna’s children, survived her workplaces or lived among the mung beans of Rapid Creek to understand the experience of being underestimated, being told you can’t do something, or discovering that some of the qualities you once regarded as weaknesses might actually be your strengths.
𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 — 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞.
For a debut comedy show, there is remarkably little sense of Anna Goat asking an audience for permission.
Perhaps that’s because, at 50, she has finally realised she doesn’t need it. Anna Goat hasn’t arrived on stage asking us who she should be: she has arrived knowing exactly who she is.
And judging by a sold-out room at Darwin Fringe Festival, there are plenty of people very happy to come along for the ride.
About the Reviewer:
Shalom Kaa is a Darwin-based comedian, performer, producer and director whose work has appeared at Darwin Fringe Festival, Darwin Festival and festivals around Australia. He is the creator and host of Harmony & Humour Bar Choir and has performed, produced and directed theatre, comedy and cabaret across the Northern Territory. He founded The Seen NT in 2018 to support the local arts scene.
Photo: Happiness & Other B*llocks, 17 July 2026, Darwin Fringe Festival
