Adam Hills: Clown Heart

Adam Hills returns for his eighth Fringe to greet a packed house of loyal fans. Within the opening minute, he ably demonstrates why he enjoys such devotion.

While Hills may be known to many for his burgeoning television career, those whose familiarity with him only extends that far might not appreciate what a natural, dexterous and fundamentally good-natured stand up he is. On stage, he has an ability to connect—and think on his feet—that TV is often inadequate at conveying.

Light-hearted observations about Scotland are almost requisite for any non-local comedians during the Fringe, yet Hills sets himself apart with a warm, intimately familiar take on the city playing host to his act. He reaches out to the audience (as opposed to picking on them), and spends the first twenty minutes chatting with a crowd eager to play along. And why not? Instead of treating them like sacrificial victims, Hills showers them with wry compliments and the occasional bottle of wine.

Don't assume Hills merely bribes his audience for affection, however. He wins it legitimately with routines that cover familiar territory—the challenges of fatherhood, the realities of marriage—but with such positive personal investment it becomes clear just how much they matter to him. Conseqently, they matter to the audience, too.

Hills finishes Clown Heart with a heartfelt and hilarious meditation on cancer and our collective defiance against it. It never lowers the mood, but instead ends the show, as Hills' father would say, on a high note.