Review: Sian Davies: About Time

A first Fringe hour is stressful enough without breaking your ankle weeks beforehand, as Sian Davies did. Swings and roundabouts though, the big safety boot and tales of previous injuries turn out to be a cracking way to kick things off. Much heavier traumas lie around the corner. 

Actually numerous well-known institutions get a kicking in Davies’ diverting debut, some of them Fringe-related. The Liverpool-schooled comic is unafraid to get stuck in, onstage and off. Unfortunately this is one of those shows that feels a slightly uneasy blend of well-honed club material and weightier Fringe themes, shoehorned in together.

After a captivating early-years opening half, it goes awry as we explore Davies’ travels: a lengthy routine about her difficulty using Indian toilets seems crass however much you flag up your white privilege throughout. That eventually leads to a more narratively on-track section about food and poverty, but despite happily throwing in heavier themes already, the comic then awkwardly shifts gear.

Davies abruptly curtails the laughter, marches stiffly across to the mic stand (true, the boot can’t help), and launches into a beautiful monologue about illness, UK healthcare, and inequality. It’s incredibly powerful, but that stilted set-up seems horribly forced; so odd that it deadens the impact. Then it’s back to a more natural mix of light and dark, and a lovely ending.

Davies is a terrific comic, who will probably make a brilliant show one day. This was so nearly it.