Live at Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre
1 August 2026
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
Alan Davies – Think Ahead Tour
Alan Davies Finds the Funny in Life's Darkest Corners at a Brave and Brilliant Auckland Performance.
There are very few comedians who can command a theatre with little more than a microphone, a curious mind and an almost supernatural ability to turn the mundane into the hilarious. Alan Davies has spent more than three decades mastering exactly that craft. Whether audiences know him as the eternally scruffy sleuth from Jonathan Creek, the quick-thinking panellist from QI, or through acclaimed stand-up shows like Urban Trauma, Life is Pain and Little Victories, Davies has built a career on making life's awkward moments feel universally familiar. His latest Think Ahead tour marks his return to New Zealand more than a decade after his hugely successful 2015 visit.
Walking into Auckland's beautiful Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre, there was an unmistakable sense that tonight's audience had grown up alongside Davies. They weren't here for pyrotechnics or elaborate staging. They were here to spend ninety minutes in the company of one of Britain's most naturally gifted storytellers.
Opening the evening was Kiwi comic Jack Ansett, who delivered a sharp, confident set built around observational comedy with a distinctly New Zealand flavour. His joke about a friend naming their child "ZaYn" with a capital Y landed beautifully.
It was one of several clever moments that immediately won over the audience.
His observation that while science insists we're descended from apes, after seeing himself naked he's convinced he's actually descended from a pukeko, thanks to his beanpole physique, was another standout that drew huge laughs through its uniquely Kiwi imagery. He also worked the room nicely with an audience interaction about the world's richest man before cleverly steering the conversation towards Auckland's own notorious parking empire. Add in a cheeky David Bain reference and Ansett had done exactly what every support act hopes to achieve, he warmed the room without ever overstaying his welcome.
Davies entered with the relaxed confidence of someone who has spent decades reading audiences.
Rather than launching straight into prepared material, he began interviewing the room.
Who was born in the 2010s?
One enthusiastic teenager revealed they'd been born in 2012, instantly becoming the youngest audience member.
Then came the 1980s.
A healthy roar.
The 1970s.
Even louder.
The 1960s?
The theatre erupted.
"There they are," Davies grinned.
"I've found my audience."
Of course, being Alan Davies, he couldn't leave it there.
Any 1950s?
A few hands.
1940s?
Still a handful.
Then came the gamble.
"Anyone born in the 1930s?"
Silence...
Until one gentleman high in the nosebleed section proudly identified himself.
The theatre gasped.
What followed was gentle roasting centred around bathroom trips and advancing age, never cruel, always affectionate and perfectly illustrated why Davies remains one of Britain's finest improvisers. The laughs weren't just coming from his punchlines, but from his ability to genuinely listen before responding.
The first twenty minutes perhaps took a little longer than expected to truly find top gear. Davies admitted he'd picked up a head cold on the flight to New Zealand, and it was obvious he wasn't performing at one hundred percent. Ironically, every time laughter forced him into a raspy chuckle which became uncannily reminiscent of Don Messick's unforgettable Muttley from Wacky Races. Once you heard it, you couldn't unhear it.
Thankfully, neither the audience nor Davies allowed the cold to become an excuse.
If anything, it added another layer of authenticity.
One of the evening's most unexpected turns came when Davies peeled back the layers of the genial, self-deprecating comedian that audiences have known for decades. What followed wasn't simply stand-up, it was something far more intimate.
Davies spoke candidly about losing his mother at a young age, his complicated relationship with his father, and the devastating childhood abuse that would shape much of his adult life. It was an extraordinarily honest piece of storytelling, delivered without self-pity or sensationalism. As he pointed out, around one in six boys experience childhood sexual abuse, with the number even higher for girls, a sobering reminder that behind the statistics are countless untold stories.
The theatre, moments earlier filled with laughter, fell into complete silence.
You could feel the audience collectively holding its breath.
Davies described the profound loss of his mother's affection and comfort, explaining how, later in life, he discovered that making people laugh became its own form of healing. The warmth and acceptance he received from audiences gradually filled part of that emotional void, a surrogate family of sorts. It was a remarkably vulnerable admission, revealing not just how comedy became his profession, but how it became his survival.
There was something immensely admirable about watching Davies confront experiences that many would spend a lifetime trying to bury. It takes real courage to revisit such painful memories in front of a theatre full of strangers, particularly when doing so isn't designed to shock, but to help explain the man behind the jokes.
The emotional weight of the material transformed the evening. Rather than feeling like a conventional comedy show, it became something more akin to great cinema. Davies led us into some incredibly dark places before carefully guiding us back into the light with perfectly timed humour. That emotional ebb and flow made the laughter that followed feel even more genuine.
Not everyone found the journey easy. Two older women seated near me quietly left the theatre during this section of the performance. It wasn't out of disrespect; rather, it was a reminder that the subject matter touches deeply personal wounds for many people. Trauma resonates differently with every audience member, and for some, Davies' honesty understandably came too close to home.
For those who stayed, however, this was arguably the defining moment of the night. It elevated the performance beyond a collection of clever observations and punchlines into something richer and more meaningful. Alan Davies proved that the very best comedians don't simply make us laugh, they tell us the truth, however uncomfortable that truth may be. And in doing so, they remind us that laughter and heartbreak are often separated by the thinnest of lines.
There is something incredibly refreshing about watching a comedian who isn't afraid to acknowledge imperfection. Davies has never relied on flashy theatrics. His comedy lives inside everyday observations, social awkwardness, relationships, ageing and the strange behaviours we all recognise but rarely admit.
That understated style is exactly why his work has endured while so many louder contemporaries have faded.
Following the performance I had the opportunity to meet Alan.
After introducing myself and explaining I was reviewing the show, I asked what he'd thought of tonight's Auckland audience.
Without hesitation he smiled.
"I loved it."
I followed with one final question.
"What do you love most about New Zealand?"
There wasn't even the slightest pause before the answer arrived.
"I love the shape."
It was quintessential Alan Davies, an answer that was instantly funny, oddly profound, and somehow made perfect sense while inviting you to wonder exactly what he meant. A throwaway line from a master of observation that lingered long after the conversation had ended.
And somehow, that perfectly summed up the evening.
Quick.
Unexpected.
Effortlessly funny.
Even battling a head cold, Davies reminded Auckland why he remains one of Britain's most treasured comedians. He doesn't overwhelm an audience with spectacle. Instead, he quietly invites you into his wonderfully curious way of looking at the world until you suddenly realise you've been laughing almost continuously for ninety minutes.
Sometimes comedy doesn't need to shout.
Sometimes it simply needs someone clever enough to notice what everyone else has missed.
Alan Davies is still one of the very best at doing exactly that.
There's still time to catch Alan Davies live, but don't leave it too long, secure your tickets now.
Tickets available here: Alan Davies: Think Ahead - Live in New Zealand
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
Photography by Steve Ullathorne
