High up in the space, curled up around a rope, is a body, and as the show starts, the body descends, falls with a thud. A confused young woman in a smart black trouser suit and red shirt looks out to us.

I remember, she says… I remember…

She remembers crossing the road, her mobile vibrating, it’s her brother and she doesn’t want to talk to him, she finds it hard to talk to him, she’s bought some socks for her dad because all the ones he has have holes in them, people say he drinks too much, she can see this guy Gil who she likes. Her first thought is: someone has screwed up; her second thought is, oh it’s me that’s screwed up; her third thought is, I don’t want Gil to see this…

I remember…Grace, I’m Grace, she says.

Grace, we learn, is many things – a lover, a mother (of twins who she gave up for adoption), a photographer. The narrative circles around a snapshot of one moment in time that explodes outwards into a world of possibilities.The story is not obscure – it becomes obvious pretty early on that our heroine has been the victim of a road accident; that the one moment in time is the moment of impact with a truck ‘the driver’s eyes, terrified…’ But where is she now? In recovery? In a coma? Facing the moment of death? Throughout the piece, Grace can be heard repeating the mantra: I didn’t expect think this would be me. We none of us think it’ll ever happen to us…

Grace is a solo circus-theatre show performed by Emma Serjeant, previously of Circa and then Casus. With Casus, she co-created the Total Theatre Award shortlisted show Knee Deep, but has now left to pursue a more thoughtful brand of circus that has something to say about the big issues. Grace first started life as the Casus show Jerk, but has now been substantially redirected and enhanced by Emma and her collaborators, director John Britton and a video-maker and sound-designer. It is a richer, fuller show than it was – although part of me misses the rawness of that first outing as Jerk.

It goes without saying (although I will say it anyway) that with a performer of this pedigree, the circus skills are exceptional. She climbs, swings, falls, tumbles, bounces up in breathtaking volleys, engaging with floor and air magnificently. But the unique selling point of this piece is not the skills – fabulous though they are – but how those circus tricks and turns are employed in the telling of the tale.

The narrative is both a story in its own right, and a way of reflecting on and facing head-on the dangers and fears of being a circus performer. In their employment in the telling of Grace’s story, and in the parallel exploration of the dangers of the artform, the various items of circus kit are used brilliantly. Aerial equipment offers the opportunity to swing high, wild and free, and to play on and with the fear of falling and crashing; hand-balancing equipment is wobbly, so she plays with balance and with throwing herself off-balance; tiny hoops can contain and trap the body, so are an excellent metaphor for a body trapped in a nightmare physical experience.

There are other, quirkier circus skills employed too: the speciality object-up-the-nose trick is here re-invented with balloons in a flashback party scene of simultaneously evokes the out-of-control experience of drug-taking, and a suggestion of hospital breathing tubes and feeders forced into a struggling body. The sounds of laboured breathing feature in the soundtrack, merging nicely and echoing the real-time breath of the performer who is throwing herself full-pelt around the space, again tying together the story of Grace and the story of Emma…

The text is a mixture of live and pre-recorded text, mixed in with the composed soundtrack (ambient sound, samples and intense, beat-driven electronic music). The onscreen video work is in part a reinforcement of the narrative, but mostly operates as a scenic tool, creating a backdrop to the live performance. It is often showing us hazy black and white images of what could be human figures (echoing Grace’s slipping in and out of consciousness in her hospital bed), this alternating with vibrant washes of colour – reds or violets – that reflect Grace’s mood swings and levels of consciousness.

The relationship with the audience is interesting. At one point in the show, she leaves the stage to take Polaroid photos with audience members that capture the moment, the here and now and liveness of this event, and also reinforcing the core ‘snapshot moment in time’ motif running through the show. Police incident tape is also put to good use…

Grace is many things. The character we are presented with is a complex and not always loveable one, although we love her honesty and her growing self-awareness. As an example, she relives her thoughts about cheating on her boyfriend at his own birthday party, and asks herself: What sort of person am I? What sort of person does this? Here and now – on what might be her death bed – Grace is re-evaluating her life, growing, changing. Where there is life, there is still the possibility of personal development, of soul work, regardless of what is happening to the physical body.

The show is an excellent example of how circus skills and theatre narrative (expressed through words, images and actions) can be successfully brought together.

A brave and beautiful piece of work – and a show that anyone interested in the space where circus meets theatre should see.