I’ve seen a few standups over the years whose mouths I’d have gladly sealed up with gaffer tape. But that’s no obstacle to Kiwi comic Sam Wills, whose whole act – now making waves throughout the world of comedy – is based on an inability to speak. Think Chaplin, think Marcel Marceau, think those old Edinburgh stalwarts Men in Coats. But Wills ranges beyond classic silent comedy, using every means at his disposal – sound effects, costume, pop music and playful business with the audience – in pursuit of wordless fun.

It’s old-school stuff, and those who can’t abide mime may still find their teeth going furry at this comedian. It can be a bit cute – and yes, sometimes you want to scream: “For God’s sake, say something!” But more often, it’s a pleasure to see great vaudevillian routines reinvented and invested with real personality. The sketches themselves are often familiar: Wills slipping his arm into the sleeve of a dress and embracing himself, or animating Louis Armstrong with a cloth cap and a Tupperware box. But Wills’s sticky predicament gives them new life. It’s funny to see three audience stooges do the dance moves to Blame It On the Boogie. It’s funnier still to see Wills’s exasperation at having to teach them with a gaffer-taped mouth.

Audience participation-phobes may stay away, but they’d miss a show that’s less about humiliation than celebration. There’s one remarkable moment, when Wills and a woman from the crowd sit and make eyes at one another, and a dorky, touching love scene is created from nothing. Elsewhere, the big laughs usually come when his mystifying business with various props finally yields its visual punchline – a Rizla paper spinning like a propeller, say, or a tableau from the film Ghost. For now, Wills is the last word in silent comedy.

Lost for words … Sam Wills is The Boy with tape on his face at Gilded Balloon, Edinburgh.