Adele Cliff discovered at the age of 33 that she isn’t invincible when she fell down a small flight of stairs at New Year and broke her wrist. Surely 33 is ludicrously late to still be entertaining ideas of invulnerability? It’s not that she’s never been in any dangerous situations, but until now she’s kind of just… bounced off everything. This seems to aptly sum up her approach to stand-up, a feet-first enthusiasm that gives her the guileless air of a newcomer (her slight frame and propensity for ‘dressing like a toddler’ as she puts it also contribute) and not a familiar Fringe face of near a decade standing. ‘Adele Cliff Can Break Your Arm’ (great title!) is a distillation of all that is great, and all that is frustrating, about her comedy.
That enthusiasm is in full effect as she careers through her hour, pinballing way from any material that doesn’t hit its mark, and slamming into the next. This may give the impression that she’s loud or brash, which couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s quietly spoken, even restrained. She simply appears delighted to be there, and is determined to drag the crowd (uncomfortably packed today) along with her. The structure, such as it is, is in the service of her jokes, so material on her housemates chipping in to help with her immobile arm, the violent potential, or being seen as less mature than her younger siblings, aren’t as important as much as the gouts of humour she can wring from them.
Whether it’s Cliff’s understated, yet slightly breathless delivery, or that some of her jokes are are so light of touch that they barely register, it’s easy to float through the show without realising just how densely packed with jokes it is. Adele loves a pun, for good or ill, and she really loves running gags and callbacks. A particular highlight is a repetition of a gag about the distinction between ‘less’ and ‘fewer’ that she attacks with Berserker ruthlessness until the laughs have turned to groans and all the way round to laughs again.
Such is the volume of material that Cliff is sometimes quite a way through the next joke before the audience has reacted to the previous one. On more than one occasion she stops to address that, telling herself to pause and give it a chance to breathe. This rapid-fire approach has been a large part of her style since her Fringe journey began in 2016, so appears to be ingrained, but is somewhat counterproductive. Her running commentary also gives the impression – and this is not a criticism – of a restless soul who’s brain is constantly noting reactions and is almost playing 4D chess with herself, practically rewriting the show for the next performance while still in the midst of the current one.
Sadly, as has been noted about Cliff’s shows before, a lot of her material is very witty, but tends to raise a smile rather than a belly laugh. Of course, this isn’t what one would hope for, but most jokes do illicit some kind of response. Yet for all Cliff achieves her own headlong momentum, that head of steam doesn’t translate to the rolling waves of laughter that keep a crowd ticking over. ‘You’ve been a lovely audience,’ Adele says as she departs, with all sincerity. Perhaps, but were they the right one?
‘Adele Cliff Can Break Your Arm’ runs until Sun 27 Aug 2023 at Just The Tonic at the Caves – Just Up the Stairs at 17:05