Creating a show focusing on the idea of regret is frankly an extremely brave one: regret be an extremely sad and prickly topic, something which Hill alludes to in the first five minutes of her show. Luckily for Hill, she has dodged this potential bullet and then some.
Just as the show is about to sink into the realms of sentimentality, Hill reins it in and finishes with what is possibly the funniest three minutes I’ve had at the Fringe so far.
Her show opens in true Hill style, using a flip chart whilst a remix of Edith Piaf’s Non, Je ne regrette rien plays in the background. It’s a wonderfully simple yet inventive way to start a show, having the audience in fits of laughter and getting them on her side before she’s even spoken a word.
She then proceeds to tell us her regrets and the regrets of her friends, ranging from drunk regrets to regrets about death. As you can imagine, many of the regrets she tells are at their core very funny, yet it’s Hill’s subtlety and cheeky stage presence that convert them from the amusing to the damn right hilarious. While this is clearly a strength of Hill’s, what’s interesting about her set is that she’s also more than willing to exploit her weaknesses, with a section devoted to her terrible command of accents being a highlight.
Yet, as you may imagine many of the regrets Hill recounts have a darker, sadder tone, which Hill embraces completely. This ultimately makes her show a more profound experience, a stark difference from the hilarious, yet ultimately silly beginning to her show.
Despite this move away from pure comedy to something more poignant, do not underestimate Hill’s comedic intentions. Of course Hill makes her point about regrets we have in life, even encouraging her audience to confront their possible regrets head on. However, just as the show is about to sink into the realms of sentimentality, Hill reins it in and finishes with what is possibly the funniest three minutes I’ve had at the Fringe so far.
