‘gothic gladiators’
Acrobatics, I would argue, are truly universal. Especially for families: dazzling feats for the kiddywinks, and enough risk and flesh to keep the adults awake. The heady mix of possible death or disfigurement and the twisted, lithe bodies keeps audiences of all ages coming back.
Once trapped in the big top (easy, tiger), the circus folk have leapt onto stages across the world as their nomadic homes succumbed to changes in theatrical taste and, presumably, rising fuel prices. Many of these former carnies have gone fully adult, blending magic and fire performance with the feathery world of burlesque and stripping. Acrobatics has, in some cases, gone the same way, but in others it has strived for loftier climbs, asking to be taken seriously as a higher-brow experience.
Enter the 16/17 world-class acrobats who make up the Copenhagen Collective, touring their 2024 show The Genesis across Europe. A truly international company with performers and styles from South America, Europe, Canada, and Australia. It seems that as long as you are incalculably fit, you are welcomed in.
Now, these folks can flip, spin, and balance like the best of the Kremo brothers, and I am by no means dismissive of that talent. What interests me is what sets this apart from their striped-trouser-wearing forebears—what elevates, if you’ll pardon the pun, the affair.
Firstly, visually: there are no props, no swings, just bodies, balance, and sweat (yum). Julie Hendel, Louise Egebro and Camilla Suleima have our powerhouses in tight black shorts, unisex skirts, and little strappy tops, making them all look like gothic gladiators. Think: if the Harkonnens from Dune put on a show for that floaty evil guy. Leif Jordansson has crafted a blended score that spans cutlery-clacking techno, jazz, blues, scattering violins, and a club section—a real fusion of genres.
Also blitzing gender roles imaginatively, Patrick King and Johan King (directors/choreographers) have added stoic female bases and pocket-rocket males flying into the stratosphere. Refreshingly, in moments of intimacy there is not the classic heteronormativity seen in most circus. Heads swan, individuals hug, hold and catch one another in a frenzy of physical interaction.
Voice-overs in various languages talk about connection and life in vague and rather meaningless terms, and although some sections are very clear (club, courtship, camaraderie), the overall theme is impressive if a little aimless.
But do we need to understand what King and King Silverhult are going for to enjoy the vigorous bodies? I think not. As the performers totem themselves into four lofty human chains, swaying in the dark, then collapse snake-like into a clump of limbs, it is the shift from dazzling showmanship to surreal connection that we marvel at. What bodies can do—what they can hold, shape, and support—still gets us collectively teetering on the edge of our seats.
There are still two more days, snip a ticket HERE!