Written and Performed by Annie Davison

Directed by Daniel Bainbridge

Review by Dominic Corr

Pleasance Courtyard

There’s a particular thrill in watching a performer sprint headlong into their own chaos—and Annie Davison does so with wit, warmth, and an explosively impressive performance. BAIRNS, her one-woman show about surrogacy, sisterhood, and self-sabotage, is a tightly wound monologue that never loses its footing, even as its protagonist stumbles through pregnancy, restaurant shifts, and emotional minefields.

Davison has crafted a script that feels lived-in and unfiltered. The honesty in her writing—sharp, sweary, and often painfully funny—gives BAIRNS its pulse. Lottie’s decision to carry a child for her sister Freya is made in a moment of misguided generosity, and what follows is a whirlwind of antenatal classes, passive-aggressive family dinners, and mounting dread. The humour is relentless, but never glib. Davison knows when to let a laugh land and when to let silence speak.

What’s remarkable is how the energy never ebbs. The pacing is immaculate—each scene tumbling into the next with the momentum of a runaway pram. Davison’s physicality is key here. She doesn’t just tell the story; she inhabits it. From the awkward shuffle of a heavily pregnant waitress to the brittle smile of a woman trying not to cry in a coffee shop, her performance is rich with detail and emotional nuance.

She also slips deftly into other characters: Freya’s anxious optimism, her husband’s bumbling sincerity, their mother’s steely disapproval. These transitions are swift and clear, adding texture without clutter. The result is a world that feels full, despite the solo format. There’s standout sequences involving face-offs with mums in the local coffee spot, chaotic restaurant shift that borders on slapstick and farce, and moments where Lottie fantasises about keeping the baby that veers into something darker and more complex. These tonal shifts are handled with care, never jarring, always earned.

If there’s a critique, it’s that the play occasionally skims the surface of its deeper themes. The legal and emotional complexities of surrogacy are touched on but not fully explored. There’s room here for more reflection, more interrogation. But that’s not to say BAIRNS lacks depth—it simply chooses momentum over meditation, and in doing so, delivers a show that’s immediate, engaging, and emotionally resonant.

Davison is an emerging talent with a clear voice and a fearless approach to storytelling. BAIRNS is a testament to what solo theatre can achieve when it’s driven by truth, humour, and a refusal to slow down. It’s messy, moving, and utterly alive.

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