Review of the visiting American comedian

Dulce Sloan may have come to prominence through The Daily Show, where she ended a seven-year stint early this year, but in her stand-up she eschews America’s noxious politics for a loose collection of personal stories and behavioural observations that – at their best – conceal sharp social commentary.

She starts, however, with some easy pickings on transatlantic differences, making play on how we pluralise ‘maths’ and don’t carry guns, leaving her coolly unintimidated by police and roadmen. However, it’s hard to imagine Sloan being intimidated by very much at all.

The Atlanta-raised comedian certainly books no nonsense, stridently calling out any perceived foolishness and bluntly dismissing anyone or anything that tries her patience. Typically unimpressed by London’s cold weather, she even slams the sun for being ‘dis-re-fucking-spectful’.

Her force of personality steamrollers through what would be workaday material in meeker hands, but just when you start to notice that, she’ll surprise with a swerve into more interesting content. For instance, her take on the difference between black and white people bypasses anything hack by having some evolutionary basis, albeit filtered through her blunt talking.  And the fact that black folks’ forebears CHOSE to come to chilly Britain remains a point of amusement throughout the show, given her ancestors had very little say in their expatriation. 

Elsewhere, Sloan touches on the significant idea that feminism is not for black people, taking the  contrarian view that she’s sick of being an independent woman and would be quite happy as man’s adjunct if it meant never having to work again. 

To get there, however, means dating and all the awfulness that entails. Sloan rightly and amusingly, protests the lack of effort most blokes put in. And for all her protests against feminism, she’s brutally unempathetic towards the plight of modern men. As for what she’s looking for, it’s summed up in the sacred vow she made to herself: ‘No more broke dick.’ 

Sloan is essentially a high-status woman describing her low-status life – especially at home. At 41, the comic finds herself still living with her mother, putting predictable restraints on her sex life, while having to endure bizarrely odd arguments that keep her awake at night.

Mum is not the only unwelcome housemate, and there are some riffs on the German Shepherd she’s reluctantly taken on. Some of her descriptions of pet ownership slide into the ordinary – though again elevated by her trenchant personality - but she is effortless in segueing between the everyday and more barbed points, often revolving around race.

Sloan’s show is less cohesive than most of the comedy the Soho Theatre is used to, instead being a US-style 50-minute headline set of only loosely connected routines, with a 15-minute opening act. 

Tonight it’s Michelle De Swarte, who took a few minutes to find focus but proved very effective with material lately about the peri-menopause – aka ‘old-age puberty’ –  including an informative PSA about how it hits black and Asian women differently. In her case, it’s made her less tolerant, making her distinctly London brand of sarcastically withering putdowns a well-judged appetiser for Sloan’s more direct American contempt.

• Dulce Sloan is at Soho Theatre, London, until Saturday

» Dulce Sloan's Unforgettable 5 gigs

Published: 19 Mar 2025