Kevin Hart: Acting My Age
3Arena, Dublin
★★★★☆
“Life is good,” Kevin Hart tells the audience at 3Arena. It’s no trite remark: the American is the highest-grossing comedian working today. But his Acting My Age show isn’t about being thankful for material blessings (although he is); he takes a more philosophical outlook, particularly about what a luxury it is to get older.
This is an implicit acknowledgment of how far he has come, always tenacious as he first navigated a difficult family life in Philadelphia and then moved through the harsh comedy world. Disappointment had the curious effect of increasing Hart’s appetite; after yet another rejection he created his own space, setting up Hartbeat Productions in 2009, making hour-long comedy specials, and marketing himself through social media.
Before the show starts our phones are sealed in pouches. Hart says this is so he can be honest with us, but also because the show is “90 per cent good but 10 per cent not so good – but you have no proof”.
Being phone-free has the pleasing effect of stilling everything; along with Hart’s warm conversational style, it makes this huge space seem intimate.
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His stories are wide-ranging, from his ancient grudge with the basketball star Michael Jordan and his jeans to the fact that conversations with friends now seem to be about “injuries and medicine”.
Hart’s knack for physical comedy sometimes tilts towards slapstick, whether he’s talking about a near-death experience in the shower, about how he ended up in a wheelchair for six weeks by drunkenly challenging a former NFL star to a race, or about the time he and his family joined a gorilla trek in Rwanda.
Part of his charm is that you want him to prevail – and he is indeed honest when he tells you, “I don’t get anxiety, but when I get it I’ve got it.” You believe him as he burrows to something deeper.
Hart made a space for himself when nobody else would, and he has moved beyond being a comic, with every aspect of his work an opportunity to build: he pays his good fortune forward in myriad ways.
All of this underpins the show, and returns us to his central question: in a world that fetishises youth, would we be better served by shifting the lens? Playfully, he uses the example of Quincy Jones, who by the time of his death last year, at the age of 91, had become emblematic of an “I can say whatever the f**k I want” approach to life – which Hart remarks is not only attractive but also aspirational.
When the comedian was awarded the 2024 Mark Twain Prize for American Humor, he followed in the footsteps of two of his influences, George Carlin and Richard Pryor. He seems to have taken a line in Pryor’s autobiography to heart: “What I’m saying might be profane, but it’s also profound.”
