Laura Davis is on my must-see list every year.
They are the comedian who I tell people to check out and they never, ever fail to deliver a brilliant hour of comedy. 'Despair Is Beneath Us', their 2025 show, seems to be one of their most personal performances yet.
Usually very comfortable taking on big world issues, this show provides audiences with a slightly closer-to-home take on life and the world than previous shows from Davis have.
Always bringing an unhinged and manic energy to the stage, Davis first eases the audience in by drawing attention to the quirks that the venue has to offer – and it’s at this point that I should let you know, if planning to come to the show, make sure you find a bathroom someplace else first – lest you make the trek across the stage to the one right behind the performer. The old cat café makes for an interesting venue but hey, it’s Comedy Festival and it’s a delight to see the bizarre corners of the city become stages and spaces for audiences to fill.
Davis, once having disarmed the audience – an important requirement considering the wonderfully bizarre journey they are about to take us on, gently begins the show by chatting away, without a microphone as if we are all old friends. Old friends being told a winding, bendy yarn from a mate slowly descending into insanity, but one who we love and care for. A noticeable shift occurs when the sound starts to come over the microphone and this is when the actual ‘show’ begins. A clever little trick of stagecraft and direction well executed.
The show has a distinct lean into storytelling territory, with Davis having the chance to demonstrate their incredible ability to keep audiences deeply engaged with a concept that might seem distant. Focusing on themes of heartbreak, isolation, and loneliness, it doesn’t seem like the kind of content fit for a comedy show, but that is the magic that Davis brings, showing that there is light in even the darkest moments of life. Even if you’re not feeling the light at the time, there are ways to explore it and lean towards it, and that is the talent that Davis has.
As we dart from childhood in isolated Western Australia, back and forth to an adult life in Edinburgh, Davis artfully slides in quips and observations about both experiences – sometimes these are incredibly smart and sometimes they are beautifully silly, yet both complement each other so well.
I keep going back, year after year, because when I see their shows I’m left with the same feeling of lightness about the world, I’ve spent an hour being reminded that things are scary and wild – by a person who, by the end of the show also seems somewhat wild – yet I also feel like I’ve been held.
While sharp, deeply and seriously funny, this show is also incredibly tender and beautiful. Perhaps I’ve joined a cult that Davis wasn’t even aware they were leading, but I’m hooked, and I’ll be back again next time there’s a show on offer. And so should you.
