stumbleDance Circus's Box of Frogs

Box Of Frogs by Stumble danceCircus - Trailer from XTRAX on Vimeo.

stumbleDance Circus's Box of Frogs demonstrates circus as a bipolar art form, representing the state of a bipolar disorder sufferer's mind as the stage.  Characters would run wild streams of speech, frantically change costumes, receive packages for things they'd bought in frenzied online shopping, and leap about with sheer mania.  Soon after, the depressive side would emerge – characters would slow, stop speaking, music would shift, lights dim.  Other flavors of mania emerged too, such as the exploration of an enraged mania triggered by a juggler on TV screens upstage (the juggler representing that irritating sound or movement somewhere in the room that you can't ignore, a feeling I'm all too familiar with...).

Each performer utilized two routines to show the extremes of the disorder – an opening bicycle routine piled all of the neutral and manic on top of a depressed rider, perhaps to demonstrate the burdening and crushing weight of a depression, especially as the rider gradually fell to the floor.  This contasted with a later act styled in classical circus costumes and character – costumes themselves contrasting with the bicycle itself, a new circus prop.  One performer started on the Corde Lisse, counting as she ascended and wrapped herself in various ways, as she copes with the irritation of the juggler.  Later on, she explodes in a violent ascension, trying to hide herself in her rope and appreciate its softness.  A pair of acrobats, who were especially manic throughout, started the show with very difficult and energetic tricks.  Later on, however, they came down from their mania, and did a simple, dark routine while airing depressed thoughts.  Though working together, each seemed very much alone

The routine that struck me most, however, was a hula hoop routine of all things, performed by Silvia Pavone.  While her manic routine was mostly standard spinning – multiple hoops and in odd places – the depressive routine used only one hoop with great effect.  Beautiful manipulations and shapes were alternatively whirled with violence or somber slowness.  Silvia would suddenly thrash the hoop around herself and moments later sink to a slow, almost careless spin, as a lone bassoon played softly beside her and dim blue light lit the stage.  The effect was of a lonely struggle, much as the acrobats achieved in their depressive routine.

A lot was revealed in a talkback session after the show, such as the reasons for the projector screens, the significance of the juggler, and the opinions of the performers themselves on their work.  The opening acro routine, for example, is much more technically difficult than the later, depressive, one, but the latter is consistently the one that audiences appreciate more.  The projectors were to show an inner monologue (and, conveniently, enabled them to have a consistently dropless juggling routine on display).  Another, perhaps more interesting, thought that came up was that the directory had tried to realize this show as a play, and simply couldn't do it.  It could only be done as a circus show, because it is the circus itself that, in her vision, shows a bipolar characteristic.

This being the first full contemporary circus show I've seen in Bristol, I am thrilled to see more.  Next week I'll be seeing The Invisible Circus's production of The Happiness Machine.