Alan Davies: Think Ahead comedy review – Droll soul baring
A delightfully successful comeback featuring personal trauma and strong takes on standard middle-aged material
Alan Davies’ first stand-up tour in more than a decade carries considerable baggage, with the comic having written a memoir in the interim about coping with the death of his mother when he was just six and the sexual abuse he suffered shortly afterwards at the hands of his father. Deeply personal subject matter that until recently he’d kept to himself and never contemplated sharing on stage, it’s great credit to him that he weaves his PTSD through broader material about getting older and it never feels especially jarring.
At a scarcely credible 60, the still boyish straight white male stand-up is something of an anachronism amidst the modern diversity of panel shows, clinging onto QI with a quip of ‘blue whale!’ for its loyal following. And he marvels at supposedly venerable sitcom actors such as Clive Dunn and Richard Wilson, much younger than him when they landed their most famous roles. A father of three, his youngest just ten, there’s a cosy, mainstream flavour of ‘kids say the funniest things’ to his introduction. And approaching the end, in almost every sense, he alights on that most over-ploughed field of male comics of his vintage: the prostate examination.
However, while he’s prone to recreating his most irate, splenetic outbursts at his children and the baffling modern world, he’s generally thoughtful, resistant to becoming one of those angry old men intimidating the rest of society through their fury. With tenderness and grace, he gently encourages other abuse survivors to seek help. Still, the show’s highlight is Davies raging against the dying of his libido, his misadventures with Viagra inspiring bedroom farce and awkward gymnastic act outs. Effortlessly marrying attuned social commentary with droll soul baring, Think Ahead is a welcome return to the live arena for stand-up’s tousle-haired Peter Pan.
Alan Davies: Think Ahead is on tour until 22 October; reviewed at King’s Theatre, as part of Glasgow International Comedy Festival; picture: Steve Ullathorne.