From 61 Circus Acts
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Tuesday, April 29 - Saturday, May 3
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How many words does it take to describe a show?
Like any art form with its own built-in pretensions, theatre’s talk often outpaces its onstage walk. It may take two hours to stage a play, but critics and grant-writing artists can easily tack on a few thousand words to the description’s word count. It’s a gift — though, to whom, it’s not exactly clear.
With 61 Circus Acts in 60 Minutes, then, Australian circus troupe Circa is bringing a rare theatrical concision to Calgary’s Grand Theatre. The show’s six-word title explains the show perfectly.
“It’s the only show, I reckon, that’s sold around the world only on the strength of its name,” says Circa’s artistic director, Yaron Lifshitz. “Normally you go see a show, even with our work, and you ask: ‘What are they trying to do here? I’m interested to know because I’ve paid to go, but now I have to work out two things: what are they trying to do, and how long am I going to be sitting in the seat for?’
“And there’s a huge amount of risk,” he adds. “We might not make it, so it’s sort of a cross between a circus and a game show.”
Beginning with what Lifshitz describes as a contract between audience and three performers on the show’s titular time limit, the array of circus techniques (acrobatics, tumbling, juggling, unicycle and trapeze, to name five) spills out against a live soundtrack spun by the company’s DJ. The concept is even robust enough to include alternate versions, such as 46 Circus Acts in 45 Minutes, though Lifshitz concedes that “you definitely have to use a bit of ingenuity, you don’t have an unlimited number. Part of the thrill is seeing these [acts] done differently, or incorporating unusual elements.”
With audience banter and rapid-fire circus acts, 61 Circus Acts is a show with all the makings of accessible family fare, even though it began as an offering in the company’s experimental series.
Beyond the familiar uses of circus’s physical skills, Circa strives to break down the vocabulary of circus techniques and transform them into productions that Lifshitz notes can appear indistinguishable from contemporary dance. In 61 Circus Acts, the inspiration came in trying to make the most of tension, a concern most audience members likely wouldn’t associate with circus. “We know that for something to sustain interest and be dramatic, it needs a certain level of tension,” he notes. “Circus has a lot in terms of skill and perilous risk and drumroll, but doesn’t have staying dramatic tension over the show.”
The answer to inflecting that missing tension came as simply as the play’s title suggests: “You can set it in a wondrous forest in the middle of the night, or you can stand in front of an audience and say, ‘We’re going to perform 61 circus acts in 60 minutes.’”
As Lifshitz points out, even renowned circus performers like Canada’s Cirque du Soleil pad moments of extreme tension and skill between layers of choreography and spectacle. In removing the edifice of the show, Circa is breaking performance down to a simple core that doesn’t require high energy and explanation.
As if the effort of jamming a veritable big top into an hour wasn’t enough, Lifshitz has another goal for 2009: a world record-breaking collaborative effort with other Australian theatre companies tentatively titled 1441 Circus Acts in 24 Hours. Ambitious Australians.
And there it is: 600 words on 61 Circus Acts in 60 Minutes.
