The Project is over. Love it or hate it, that's bad news for Aussie comedy
Channel Ten has dropped the axe on The Project, and as the South Yarra studio goes dark, many words have been written about the show's impact on news and culture. But for me, a former head writer, the greatest loss will be felt by Aussie comedy. For 16 years, The Project has platformed comedy on-screen and behind the scenes, and its cancellation is nothing but bad news for those of us who make a career out of playing silly buggers.
On air, The Project' s commitment to comedy was plain to see. Every night the show featured at least one comic at the desk who was tasked with keeping things light, even when the news was dark. The comedy on The Project was like punctuation, allowing the panel to tackle the big issues and still get out on a laugh. Some days this was easier to achieve than others. I always felt for comics who made their desk debut on days dominated by bushfires or bombs.
Loading
Perched on the far left of the desk, it was the comic's job to keep things interesting and to lob a few curveballs into the guest interviews. That guest chair was a welcoming spot for different voices, too. Multiple times each week, local and international comedians would drop by The Project desk to plug their stand-up, movies or podcasts. These chats resulted in thousands of hilarious moments and only one or two national scandals. In an age when our tastes are curated by the all-powerful algorithm, 6.30pm weeknights was a time slot that showcased new talent and introduced viewers to a comedy voice they might just fall in love with.
Off the desk, The Project had a reputation for giving comics their first live TV gig. Countless stars were born via the very hectic and very eclectic 'Metro Whip', a Friday night segment that crossed to five locations around the country to find out what was happening in our capital cities.
Names such as Em Rusciano, Mel Buttle, Sam Mac and Nath Valvo all cut their teeth trying to be funny while fighting to hear Carrie Bickmore over a cheering audience and simultaneously flogging a giant garage sale, agricultural show or spaghetti festival.
Even during the darkest days of COVID, the show turned to comedy to help lift spirits and fill the rundown. Socially distanced sketches, jokes performed to empty studios and insane crosses to Ross Noble in his bunker where he would turn a three-minute Zoom call into must-see TV. A rare bit of paid work for an industry completely shut down.
For the complete run, those on air were supported by a full-time comedy writers' room, a team made up of comedians and writers who worked to wedge humour between the headlines every day. Except the day the Queen died. We got to go home early that day.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Herald Sun
21 hours ago
- Herald Sun
TV journalist Denham Hitchcock on new show 10 NEWS+ which is replacing The Project
Don't miss out on the headlines from Entertainment. Followed categories will be added to My News. Television journalist Denham Hitchcock believes the daily news and deeper investigations of prime-time news show10 NEWS+ will cut through and reach wider audiences than other programs, like the recently-cancelled The Project. The Project aired its last episode on Friday and will be replaced by 10 NEWS+ from Monday, which will be the first commercial free-to air news program to also be available as a video podcast via global streaming service Spotify. 'That's the great unknown,' Hitchcock told Stellar in a new interview. 'The journos, the network [are] fully behind it. No-one is half-hearted about this show. And the platforms it will be on is also revolutionary in a way.' The 48-year-old will co-anchor the show with his former Seven Network colleague Amelia Brace. Both Hitchcock and Brace were poached from Seven by Network 10. The father of two is looking forward to being 'let out of the gate' on stories and revealed he had one up his sleeve for months. 'It's an absolute blockbuster,' he teased. 'It's a story 60 Minutes, Four Corners and Spotlight would kill for.' While he is excited to get started, his dad Kevin, a former Network 10 news anchor himself, is possibly more excited. '[Though] God forbid I get any of my grammar wrong,' Hitchcock said. ''Cause he's the first one on the phone.' Growing up watching his father work on news investigations like the Lindy Chamberlain trial, Hitchcock was destined to follow in his footsteps. 'Dad would sometimes get me to write news stories and he would sub them at the dinner table for fun,' he told Stellar. 'One day he got extremely upset because I finished a story with 'time will tell'. He hates the cliché. I always knew I wanted to be a journalist, even at a very young age.' Starting off his career straight out of high school in 1995, Hitchcock answered phones and filled the biscuit barrel for Today Tonight on Seven. His work as a reporter took him all over the world, and he went on to work as a foreign correspondent at the Nine Network before returning to Seven to launch current affairs program Spotlight. 'To truly try and make a difference and enrich the lives of the people you come across is what I'm most proud of,' Hitchcock said of his 30 years on the road. 'I've managed to do that in a lot of cases, and that gives me the most amount of hope. There's still beauty amongst the rubble and devastation. You just have to look for it.' Originally published as Inside the 'revolutionary' show replacing The Project
News.com.au
a day ago
- News.com.au
Inside the ‘revolutionary' show replacing The Project
Television journalist Denham Hitchcock believes the daily news and deeper investigations of prime-time news show10 NEWS+ will cut through and reach wider audiences than other programs, like the recently-cancelled The Project. The Project aired its last episode on Friday and will be replaced by 10 NEWS+ from Monday, which will be the first commercial free-to air news program to also be available as a video podcast via global streaming service Spotify. 'That's the great unknown,' Hitchcock told Stellar in a new interview. 'The journos, the network [are] fully behind it. No-one is half-hearted about this show. And the platforms it will be on is also revolutionary in a way.' The 48-year-old will co-anchor the show with his former Seven Network colleague Amelia Brace. Both Hitchcock and Brace were poached from Seven by Network 10. The father of two is looking forward to being 'let out of the gate' on stories and revealed he had one up his sleeve for months. 'It's an absolute blockbuster,' he teased. 'It's a story 60 Minutes, Four Corners and Spotlight would kill for.' While he is excited to get started, his dad Kevin, a former Network 10 news anchor himself, is possibly more excited. '[Though] God forbid I get any of my grammar wrong,' Hitchcock said. ''Cause he's the first one on the phone.' Growing up watching his father work on news investigations like the Lindy Chamberlain trial, Hitchcock was destined to follow in his footsteps. 'Dad would sometimes get me to write news stories and he would sub them at the dinner table for fun,' he told Stellar. 'One day he got extremely upset because I finished a story with 'time will tell'. He hates the cliché. I always knew I wanted to be a journalist, even at a very young age.' Starting off his career straight out of high school in 1995, Hitchcock answered phones and filled the biscuit barrel for Today Tonight on Seven. His work as a reporter took him all over the world, and he went on to work as a foreign correspondent at the Nine Network before returning to Seven to launch current affairs program Spotlight. 'To truly try and make a difference and enrich the lives of the people you come across is what I'm most proud of,' Hitchcock said of his 30 years on the road. 'I've managed to do that in a lot of cases, and that gives me the most amount of hope. There's still beauty amongst the rubble and devastation. You just have to look for it.'
Courier-Mail
a day ago
- Courier-Mail
Stand-up comedian Anisa Nandaula on on trusting your gut
Currently on the road with her debut comedy tour, the Ugandan-Australian comedian and slam poet talks navigating career changes, post-show comedowns plus her current pet peeves. You were born in Uganda and moved with your family to Rockhampton in regional Queensland at the age of seven. What do you remember of this transition – was it a culture shock? I vividly remember being so shocked at the bridges in Australia, the perfect roads and the Billabong ice-creams shaped like a heart. I was so in love with this country and thought it was incredible. I think the biggest culture shock would be that I didn't know I was going to be the only black person in my area for the next five years. Rockhampton is quite regional and, at least when I was there, there wasn't much of an African diaspora, it was just my family. It's especially difficult because when you're new to a country, you want to make friends but you're like, 'Ok, do I just get rid of my culture so I can fit in?' At the height of Covid you quit your 9-to-5 to embark on a career in stand-up. Did this feel like a risk and what gave you the courage to take the leap? I made the decision to quit poetry and that did not feel like a risk. What felt like a risk was continuing to live my life doing something that didn't exhilarate me, that didn't make my heart race. When I stood up on that stage, I felt reborn. I felt like I had a purpose and this was my calling. The risk would be not to dedicate my life to this forever because I love it. X SUBSCRIBER ONLY Comedy is known for its gruelling schedule, with late nights and the pressure to perform. What self-care practices do you prioritise when the demands can feel like a non-stop hustle? That's a really tricky question because for me comedy is my therapy, comedy is my safe space. So, comedy itself is my ritual. If I go a night without performing, my mental health starts to spiral. I love being onstage. I remember when I was doing a TV show, you're working these late hours and you're so tired, thinking 'Oh my god, how am I going to perform?' As soon as you get on stage you're like, 'Oh, I love it. This is what I was born to do.' Is there a come down post-show? Oh definitely, and I've had to develop rituals for that and the adrenaline spike. To come down and be able to sleep, I need to read a book and drink some tea otherwise I literally won't go to sleep – the adrenaline spike is too high. You've said 'a lot of stand-ups are very judgmental, irritable people' as these observations make for great comedy. What irritated you recently? Comedians are the most irritable people on earth. I don't think there's ever a moment where I'm not irritated or slightly annoyed at something. Yesterday I got an Uber home from the airport and it's like, yay, I can afford an Uber from the airport. But also, I'm trapped with this Uber driver who is sharing their political opinions for 40 minutes! And I had headphones in! We have such a unique way of talking and sense of humour, so I just felt disconnected, I felt like I didn't understand, and had trouble relating and connecting to people. Image: Emma Holland In a male-dominated space, you've forged a path to become a unique voice in comedy. What advice would you give others looking to pursue a passion? That feeling in your gut, follow that. I remember when I was doing open mics and no-one would book me, I changed my Facebook to a different name because I'm like, 'I'm going to be really famous one day and I don't want people searching me up.' This was when I was doing sh*tty open mics, but I knew where I was going to be. If you know it in your head, it's going to happen. Keep that dream in your head because it's going to be a reality. Being the only Black family in Rockhampton, did you find that challenging when at school? It was really challenging. Even just the Australian way of speaking. We have such a unique way of talking and sense of humour, so I just felt disconnected, I felt like I didn't understand, and had trouble relating and connecting to people. That was super challenging. You pursued a career as a poet and in 2016, you were crowned Queensland Poetry Slam Champion. What was it about this art form that drew you in? I loved poetry. I always loved English and used to do public speaking. I very specifically remember my teacher telling me after reading the stories I wrote, 'I could tell you're a better speaker than you are a writer.' I remember that really hurt my feelings because I loved literature. Then I saw this slam poet on YouTube and I was like, 'Ok, my teacher's telling me I'm not a good writer. But whatever this is, I can do this.' I fell in love with the performing, the being on stage, and just telling your story to people. Image: @anisa_nandaula on Instagram I fell in love with the performing, the being on stage, and just telling your story to people. Being able to speak - I don't know if that's due to being in Rockhampton or earlier in my childhood when I had trouble connecting and being honest and being myself - but onstage I knew that I could tell my truth and connect with you. It's fascinating what your teacher said to you, too. So much of stand-up is writing: there's a rhythm and a pace to a joke, and the need for perfect wording. Did that background in poetry lend itself to stand-up? You're 100 per cent correct, without a doubt. With stand-up, your job is essentially to be a writer. All you do is write. You write 90 per cent of the day, and perform 10 per cent of the time. I think because I'm so used to manuscripts and writing for eight hours a day, the art form isn't easy but the act of writing is because I'm so used to it. Can you remember that first stand-up show that you did? Yes! I was actually watching a video of it last night because I'd sent it to a friend and it was atrocious. There were three people in the audience, one of them was my best friend who was just laughing. And the other two were two men who were crazy drunk and they loved it, so I don't know what the average person would have thought. How did you approach that career transition, though? Did you have any mental tools or strategies? I'm an incredibly methodical person. When you start out in stand-up, you don't know anything. I had a mentor and he essentially set goals for me. The first goal was to write down three minutes worth of jokes. Ok, I did that. The next goal was to test it out, so we made a list of clubs and I tried to get into those open mics. Next, I tried to get into comedy clubs which took two years. That was a foundational level where I needed a mentor because I didn't know anything - I didn't know the world or who to talk to, or the etiquette. Then after that, I just had methodical goals all throughout. Even now, I write a list of goals and at the end of the year, I check what I didn't achieve and what I could do better. You found fame on TikTok as clips of your stand-up started going viral. How do you protect your mental peace on platforms where everyone has an opinion and will share it in the comments? I'm very honest with where I'm at emotionally. When I started, I wasn't honest and I'd read all these comments. You have to respond because it drives your engagement and helps it go more viral. So, I'd be responding to trolls, saying, 'I'm ok, I'm ok' and then I have a mental breakdown because the things are so horrible. Now, I'm conscious about where I'm at. If I sense that my resilience is maybe at six, then I'm not going to use Facebook and that's a decision that I've made because I'm honest that I don't have the resilience for it. I'll read TikTok because young people aren't as mean as old people though - and the same as Instagram. But it's about where my resilience is at. If it's a 10, I'll clap back. If it's not, I'll leave it. How do you balance sharing so much of yourself online and maintaining some level of privacy? It's so difficult. Before I post a video, I'm always scared. My heart is always racing, but I just keep doing it. I looked up my Instagram because it tells you how many posts you've made and it said 464. I thought, 'I've been brave 464 times, that means I can continue doing it.' It's just the practice of bravery. You've performed slam poetry at the Sydney Opera House and faced a live audience filming Channel 10's Thank God You're Here. Do you have any pre-show rituals before taking to the stage? I'm terrified. Any time I get onstage, I'm scared. I used to get really bad diarrhoea because I was just so nervous. So now my ritual is firstly I go over what I'm performing. It doesn't matter if I've said it six million times, I need to go over my routine. Then, I need to dance for ten minutes because if I get my energy up I know the show is going to go well because I'm happy. The third thing I do is something I learned from my therapist. If I want to feel confident, intelligent, smart, relaxed, I think of memories in my head and times I've felt that way, and then I touch my finger so now that's locked in. Before I get onstage, I tap into memories of feeling that way and instantly that emotion will be with me on stage. Anisa Nandaula's debut Australian comedy tour, 'You Can't Say That'. Image: Emma Holland Can you explain how that works? Whatever feeling you want to have - if you want to feel brave, you close your eyes and think about a time you felt brave. You keep that memory and attach it to something you can do physically that no-one can tell you're doing it. So, maybe you're touching your ear or rubbing your arm. When you do this thing, it's accessing this memory. Your debut Australian comedy tour is called 'You Can't Say That.' What inspired the title? What inspired the name was that every time I do a comedy show or perform, people in the audience are looking at each other and I get people going, 'You can't say that!' And I'm like, 'Well, why not?' These are the interesting conversations to have. The best conversations are when you're gossiping with your friends and looking around. That's what I find interesting. In drawing on your own experience as a Black woman growing up in Australia, your comedy draws on themes of race, identity, and social issues. Why do you think humour is effective in starting these conversations? One of the major differences between poetry and comedy is that in poetry, people can listen and you don't really know if they've understood what you're saying. But for someone to laugh at a joke, they have to understand. That understanding is what triggers the laughter. When people laugh, that's a thousand people in a room who have all understood what you've just said. You're sharing your personal experiences, things you've been through. For people to then understand, that's empathy, that's connection - all things that are happening against their will because a joke happens and no-one chooses to laugh, I'm making you laugh. Originally published as Stand-up comedian Anisa Nandaula on on trusting your gut
