Circus Hub: two shows, one from Australia’s Circa, possibly the world’s number one circus company, who bring Humans to this year’s Fringe; and the other is just the second show from UK based Barely Methodical Troupe, whose sparkling first show Bromance won a Total Theatre Award. Their new show is called Kin.  Let’s start with Kin…

‘Here we are again gentlemen’ says the young woman in a trenchcoat and shades, dinging her bell. Round one. Show us what you’ve got. The five men vie and jockey for the woman’s attention. “great things come in small packages’ says BMT co-founder Beren d’Amico, flipping and twirling across the floor, ending in a boylesque moment with pants pulled down. We are treated to a brief history of the diabolo (a Chinese bird-catcher, apparently), and a tune on the accordion from Frenchman Jean-Daniel Broussee who later finds himself ‘interviewed’ by the woman (Nikki Rummer). ‘Take a seat’ she says. There is no chair. In a lovely little clown moment, he perches awkwardly on her table before sliding down to kneel on the ground, attentive as a small dog. You and me baby – here, have a banana…

Barely Methodical Troupe: Kin

JD is the chosen one, but it doesn’t last long. Who should I choose? Why? The men are lined up on plinths, laurel wreaths on their heads. Every one a winner. Every one a loser. The ante is upped; the real skills come out to play. Charlie Wheeler’s cyr wheel routine, performed to David Bowie’s Five Years, is a real treat. He is so soft, so flowing, the clever moves made to look easy peasy – and always in harmony with and response to the music. Yep, worth a banana. (The cyr returns later fin the show or a thrilling double-act – a rare treat.) Next question. What are you afraid of? Blood, death, pigeons. Marks so far? A teeter-board comes out.  A breathtaking routine to Edith Piaf’s Je Ne Regrette Rien. The audience applaud wildly, but our woman isn’t happy. Again! she cries. And again. And again.

Kin is a very wise and witty exploration of the state of young manhood, and an interesting reflection on the nature of circus itself. The need to please ‘the other’, be it the elusive ‘woman’ or the anonymous ‘audience’. The constant competing for attention – to be the best, to be the chosen one, to break records, to break hearts. The format works because having been set up, it is pushed to the limits with confidence. There is a well-balanced mix of solo turns (from all the men, and from Nikki, a gymnast turned circus performer who’s a dab hand at  flips and walk-overs), duets of all sorts, boy-girl and boy-boy, and gorgeous hand-to-hand ensemble sections playing with the woman as ‘other’, as she clambers and climbs, is carried and thrown. Towards the end comes a shift, and our lone woman becomes integrated into the group, and a spellbinding six-person acro routine presents them on equal territory, a group of six bodies of different shapes and sizes in the space, gender irrelevant.

Circa: Humans

Circa’s Humans is as carefully crafted and highly skilled as you’d expect from this seminal circus company. What does it mean to be human, is the key question that started the process. How much weight can a body carry; how far can a body stretch? Although, it must be said, that these ten ultra-fit acrobats only represent one aspect of humanity – the top end of physical fitness. That said, here is a lovely exploration of the human at play in the world.

It is interesting to think about the notion of ‘human-ness’ in relation to other occupants of this world: ‘I Wish I Was a Lizard’ sings out from the soundtrack as a female contortionist moves in an eerily non-human way across the floor, stopping to tangle herself up in a way that makes her pigtail look like her tail. This is an ensemble work, and all ten performers are brilliant and work in harmony with each other, taking the lead, then falling back into chorus – but our pigtailed girl is the one I’m drawn to most.

There are three other women in the show, and six men. Most of the action is floor-based acrobatics, tumbling or hand-to-hand – gorgeous three-high towers and huddles of all sorts. A marvellous line of people moving in various ways from the back to the front of the line – walking on shoulders, swinging around or through bodies, body surfing, walking on heads. There are some set-pieces: a good-enough trapeze act, a really lovely hand-balancing act on tiny floor-level red bricks, and a three-person straps/strops tag-team (on separate rigging I hasten to add). There is also a very well executed contemporary take on the old vaudeville favourite, the Rag Doll routine, as a woman is puppeteered around the stage by her male partner.

The transitions from one to another are beautifully managed, as is Circa’s way, with our attention being moved tenderly from one solo or duet to another via the intervention of other performers to ‘close’ one act and ‘open’ the next. Music, as ever, is an eclectic mix, from Joanna Newsom to Caetano Veloso. Veloso’s Triste Bahia is used for a long and beautifully executed acrobatics sequence that loosely references capoeira, ending in a frantic shake that conjures up the trance like states entered into when the spirits are summoned in Candomble.

If there’s a criticism it’s that the dramaturgical premise is a little loose and drifted away from now and again. It feels like some of the acts in the show are just that – acts slotted in as crowd-pleasers. And pleased the crowd obviously is – so that’s fine.

Fauna

From Circus Hub to the Assembly, which also has some great circus shows this Fringe. I’m yet to catch Gandini Juggling’s Sigma at Assembly Hall, but managed to see two pieces at the Assembly Roxy – both nominated for a Total Theatre Award – Fauna and All Genius, All Idiot.

Fauna, sharing some territory with Circa’s Humans, takes as its starting point the notion of exploring primal behaviour in humans, comparing and contrasting human behaviour with that of other animals. The company is an international one with performers drawn from other well-known circus troupes, including NoFit State (Wales), Les Sept Doigts (Quebec), and Gravity & Other Myths (Australia).

We start with darkness and the sound of bird songs and calls, and as the lights come up a group of five creatures flock and strut to the sound of a classical Spanish guitar, giving the movement something of a flamenco feel. (Guitarist and percussionist/ live soundscape creator Geordie Little is a real asset to the show.) Battle lines are drawn up: we see courtship rituals, competitions for supremacy, and cunning attempts to outwit other members of the pack. This plays out in some very lovely duets as the three women and two men pair up and regroup in a constantly evolving quest for the survival of the fittest (or sometimes the funniest). A feather is stolen cheekily from a head; two men lock in what feels like mortal combat; a woman and a man wrestle and roll frantically. From the skills tally perspective, there is some excellent floor tumbling, hand-to-hand and acrobalance; some nifty handbalancing on canes; and a great comic trapeze turn. This bunch do upside down brilliantly. There are extensively held handstands, hand balances on canes and floor and other humans, headstands, and heel hangs from the trapeze. Sometimes they are upside down for so long it starts to feel that this is their natural state. The duels get dirty sometimes: there is hair pulling and body trampling, and (giving Circa a run for their money) a good ragdoll duet. There is plenty of action, thrills and spills, but there is also great pace and rhythm, and a lovely use of silence and humour.

Svalbard: All Genius All Idiot

Also at Assembly Roxy, London International Mime Festival hit All Genius All Idiot is yet another show exploring what it is to be human – in this case, revelling in the most animalistic aspects of human behaviour. Drunkeness, debauchery, hedonism, gender bending, and wild and dirty disco dancing all have a part to play. The four-man team engage in what Tom Wilson in his Total Theatre review called ‘a hedonistic celebration of the Bacchanalian spirit’, which sounds pretty spot-on to me. The show takes the form of an anarchic gig set in a post-apocalyptic pagan hinterland and witnessing it is like taking part in some kind of extreme cathartic ritual. It’s not for the feint hearted, but brave hearts will be rewarded with a transcending experience.

And also stepping out of the traditional restraints of circus comes Ellie Dubois’ No Show (Summerhall), featuring a five-strong team of women who start the show with a girly chorus line to the tune of Pistol Packin’ Mamma, then go on to mock and challenge our expectations of women in circus – and indeed of circus itself. The ‘look pretty and smile, smile, smile’ syndrome is satirised in a running joke with hand-balancer Alice Gilmartin gagged, pushed onto her canes with any number of hups, and then talked through her act by her companions. ‘Can you do something different, Alice. That’s too much like the last thing you did’  and ‘turn to look at the audience, Alice – and bat those eyelashes, it’ll divert the audience’s attention from those big arms of yours!’ Lisa Chudalla takes to the cyr wheel – a piece of apparatus more usually associated with male artists – and as she demonstrates the basics of the form – basketballs and leg crosses and coins – we are told how heavy and dangerous it is. If it lands on her foot, her toes will be crushed; if it hits her head, then possibly concussion will result. We hear cartwheeling Kate’s story of wanting to do the power tumbling but being expected to do walkovers and high kicks, or  ‘feminine’ aerial numbers on silks rather than her preferred Chinese pole.

And so it goes. It works well. There’s a good balance of the presentation of real circus skills, and the parody or mockery of the mores of circus (traditional or contemporary) and how it likes to present its women performers – Lisa gets to do a full-on cyr wheel act, Kate gets to tumble powerfully, not just cartwheel endlessly, and Alice finally gets to go up on the canes without any ‘help’ to see her act through. There’s also a great hair-hanging act, and some nifty accordion playing from Francesca Hyde; and as a grand almost-finale, a flying trapeze number minus the trapeze from Michelle Ross. Five strong women doing what they do best – that’ll do nicely.

Featured image (top) Ellie Dubois: No Show. Photo Chris Hoyle.

 For details of all shows and to book, see www.edfringe.com 

For the Total Theatre Awards shortlist see www.totaltheatrenetwork.org