Behind the dazzling lights of the theatre is an invisible world backstage. In Teatro Delusio, that world is revealed and explored by a wonderful ensemble who use masks, puppetry, illusion and robust physical performance. It is a word-free show, but with a distinct narrative – and an example of how well physical/visual theatre can tell stories.

It works to explore the subtle threshold between the manipulator and the manipulated, playing with the invisible lines between the two that bring life to the characters, who are represented by puppets that vary in size (from tiny pet to large person), and actors wearing impressive and expressive whole-head masks.

Everything is told from the perspective of backstage; the world behind the scenes of the show. The raw and rudimentary scenario shows an Italian proscenium stage from the inside out. We see the skeleton of the theatre, with its wings, stairs, high-voltage cables on all sides, a trunk of costumes, the dressing rooms, and the emergency exit leading to the street.

Witness the fragility of the young actors, and even the great and experienced stars, before entering for their scene! When they arrive late, or forget an item of costume or prop we witness their nervousness and anxiety. The work brings to light what the public never see, and probably never imagine what happens during the great and the grand theatre or opera shows. Above all, it is a great tribute to the invisible men of the performing arts: the technicians and stagehands.

In this spectacle that blends so harmoniously the beautiful and the grotesque, using modern takes on Commedia stock characters, the big stars are: Bob Efficient, strong and unpredictable technician; together with the fearful always tired Bernd (both masks inspired by the Commedia Dell’Arte’s double-act clowns, the Zanni); and the chief technician Ivan (a contemporary reconstruction of Brighella), who is always hungry and eager to keep everything organised and functional backstage.

Besides these three endearing characters, Familie Floz presents the viewer with a flurry of delightful masks full of personality and very specific corporeality: enter the orchestra conductor (a parallel to Il Capitano), the egocentric first violinist (a simple re-reading of the Tartaglia mask), the ballet (several clumsy dancers and an affected boy-diva dancer), the superstar soprano (Il Enamorata), amongst many other characters.

The Phantom of the Opera style resident theatre ghost occasionally interrupts the narrative of the show line and transports us to a supernatural universe. Who is this female spectre? Why is she seen by only one of the characters? Was it his great love? Or is the soul of the arts that berates the entire cast on their weaknesses? With this absurd magical presence, we are opened up to reflections that go beyond the day-to-day show business shenanigans, bringing metaphysical and existential questions for the characters. For the first time, we read their thoughts and we are touched by the feelings of the masks, not only through their actions, but simply by their strong presence on stage – a totally new and risky aspect to the language of masks. It is rare for a  a mask to be kept alive on stage when it does not move for more than five seconds, but in Teatro Delusio when the masks stop the world around them begins to turn.

This is a work overflowing with humanity and charisma – never has backstage been so appealing, and so revealing.

Familie Floz is an international team of theatre-makers based in Berlin. The show is  created in partnership with Paco Gonzalez, Bjorn Leese, Hajo Shuler and Michael Vogel, and presented in partnership with Aurora Nova.

Featured photo by Gabriele Zucca.

LCP Dance Theatre are an award-winning aerial dance company, whose work aims to raise awareness of human rights issues, using stage performance, live music and film; using real life stories as their starting point.

Their work, here and elsewhere, seeks to illuminate the interrelationships between art and the real world – reflecting the  political, economic, religious, ethical and lawful contexts in which work is made and displayed.

LCP’s latest work, Escape, is a collaboration between the company’s artistic director and choreographer, Joanna Puchala from Poland (now resident in London), and JC Bailey from Australia; a two-woman show fusing dance and acrobatics with video projection and music.

Beautiful images of submerged women project onto a transparent curtain that the performers then pierce open, revealing a metal frame with four-foot aerial slings rigged in the middle of the structure; and behind, a screen where images finally meet their end projection.

The videos transport us to different times and spaces (the moving image work created with attention to detail by Eran Tsafir, a London-based Israeli artist and filmmaker; with additional multimedia work by a regular collaborator with LCP, Polish artist, film-maker and graphic designer Lidhka Inga. The images are both beautiful and disturbing – sometimes one thinks of Ophelia in Hamlet.

The precious and unique space created through the projections then gives way to choreographic movement, performed both in the air and on the ground. The video images are then fragmented in and around the dancers’ scenes. The soundtrack, created by Stefano Guzzetti, starts with a melancholy violin accompanying the video, but then moves into an electronic score.

The company’s stated intention is to portray the impact of a new, unfamiliar environment on a refugee, who must necessarily face social, political and psychological challenges in order to integrate with their new society – a topic of great urgency currently in Europe.

Yet this urgency doesn’t translate to the performance of the dancer-acrobats, and a gap opens up between the viewer and the work. Although the choreography sometimes shows lightness, fluidity and finesse, there is a detachment between performers (whose faces seem unengaged with the work) and the audience.

The high points of the piece show the possibility of overlapping the choreography with the images projected. Unfortunately these strong moments happen too rarely, leaving the viewer to drift, waiting for more junctions between live performance and projections. What could be exceptional gradually becomes predictable and boring.The best moments come close to the end, with a doubles silks act in which the bodies finally dialogue directly with the theme of the show.

Following this, we are surprised by a video documentary featuring interviews and maps the fast and furious relaying of information contrasting sharply with the beautiful and dreamy images projected earlier in the show.

With the exception of a little girl refugee interviewed, only men appear in the video giving their testimony about the escape from their countries toward freedom through dangerous sea journeys in the struggle to survive. The lack of female interviewees perhaps showing a reluctance to examine the experience of female refugees – or perhaps an acknowledgement that the vast majority of people in the Calais Jungle are male. Or another explanation rests with the fact that many men testify that the most harrowing and disturbing experience of their journey across the seas was witnessing women, some pregnant, drowning. Perhaps this is the heart of the piece – the male view of female distress? It is unclear how all the elements are intended to be read.

An interesting work, with beautiful moments of interaction between projection and physical performance, but the subject matter for the most part let down by the delivery of the work.

Ghost Quartet, presented in the Roundabout tent, to the rear of the Summerhall venue,  is billed as ‘a haunted song cycle… a raucous chamber musical’. It is a song cycle about ‘love, death, and whiskey… four friends drink in four interwoven narratives spanning seven centuries.’

The impressive quartet of the title comprises two men and two women, who are collectively known as Ghost Quartet. The show comes to the Edinburgh Fringe after great success in New York. Everyone sings, and all play a variety of instruments. The song cycle is in four parts, with the fourth part containing the lion’s share of dark elements, with just a few quick flashes of light revealing the musicians and the ghosts that circulate in the small ring – and perhaps through the seats in the audience. Each part is named as if on a recorded album, i.e. ‘Side One’, Side Two’ etc.

The show tells four interwoven stories: ‘a warped fairy tale about two sisters, a treehouse astronomer and a lazy evil bear; a retelling of Edgar Allan Poe’s’ The Fall of the House of Usher; a purgatorial intermezzo about Scheherezade and the ghost of (jazz pianist) Thelonious Monk ; and a contemporary fable about a subway murder.

The four are: Brent Arnold (cello, guitar, dulcimer, percussion), Brittain Ashford (autoharp, keyboard, percussion), Gelsey Bell (xylophone, Celtic harp, accordion, percussion) and Dave Malloy (piano, keyboard, ukelele, percussion). Malloy is also responsible for the music composition, lyrics and text.

All musicians display an enormous amount of virtuoso talent, highlighting the incredible voice of lead singer Gelsey Bell, and using a range of styles from pop to contemporary classical – sometimes the vocal effects are simply terrifying. The music is augmented by the detailed lighting design of Christopher Bowser.

The songs always have very simple titles: I Do Not Know, Subway, ‘The Telescope, Hero, Bad Man.. These, and others, create rich universes, deep and diverse. Some are comic, others dramatic – but the ghosts are always there, in one way or another.

An eerie and extremely entertaining show, that would appeal to fans of the Gothic aesthetic. I could imagine a collaboration between the Ghost Quartet musicians and filmmaker Tim Burton. It would be certainly a fruitful and successful partnership!

Wes, Patrik and Tony begin another day of play. But where is Wes? Ah, he’s in the box… Who put him there? Did he get there by himself? I don’t think so! For today’s game, they’ve arranged his toys into a big circle. In the centre of the circle, a colourful little donkey is hanging? A donkey? Yep, a donkey.

And so it starts: three boys and their toys, having fun.

They look great: gold trousers; psychedelic shirts – a mix of tie-dye and rave. Wes’s shirt has a smiley face, and Tony’s features a starry-eyed David Bowie.

Suddenly the lights come on. From above? No, below. Yards and yards of lighting strips in brilliant red, white and blue delineate a huge circle on the floor, and one rises to the heavens where the little donkey is hanging. What’s the donkey about, we wonder.

Juggling clubs are released into the air – lots of them. Some of them fall to the ground but Patrik doesn’t care because he can’t stop; he wants to keep on playing. Tony tries to control his friend by wrapping his arms with sellotape, but Patrik is relentless and determined. He’s not stopping. He continues even when his hands are tied and he can only move his wrists.

Wes adds to the frenetic pace, his thrown clubs making crazy designs in the air.  Tony decides to also tie up Wes, and to tie him to Patrik. Still they keep going… Meanwhile, the Brazilian Girls’ song Let’s Make Love booms out.

The donkey descends, the jugglers go crazy and lash out with their clubs. Finally, we understand what it is…

After the clubs come the balls: many hundreds of white balls, countless. In the air we see pictures emerge as the three play together: a waterfall, squares, hexagons, circles. We see a multi-armed Indian goddess juggling; playing with the stars.

Next, the small hoops. Once again we are presented with a myriad of shapes and designs. Then, a ‘false interval’ as they take a break for lemonade – a lovely clownish moment.

You would think that so much extraordinary juggling is enough, but our three boys don’t stop there. Using the regular children’s toys, together with a lot of sellotape, they create new hybrid toys.

The show is called Water on Mars not just because of its futuristic tone and technicolour aesthetic, but also because the company say their juggling could be done even on Mars. But they prove that Mars is not the limit – they could take their games to Jupiter, Pluto and perhaps entertain the people on the the Mir station.

The three performers, Wes Peden, Patrik Elmnert, and Tony Pezzo, (two from Sweden, and one from the USA), each with many years of experience in their field, originally created the work under the company name Plastic Boom, but the show has now been absorbed into the Gandini Juggling family; mentored by the king of theatrical juggling, Sean Gandini.

It is inventive, playful and daring – proof that a ‘pure juggling’ show can be perfect theatre.