British theatre and its backers have been slow to embrace the theatrical possibilities of circus skills and there are some who stick to the view that juggling can never be art, despite increasing evidence to the contrary. For all its simple pleasures, this might not be the show to persuade the refuseniks. However, there is no doubting the dexterity of self-taught German juggler Martin Schwietzke, or indeed his ambition in combining music and circus skills in a piece that has a pleasingly jazzy improvised feel.
L'Ecume de l'Air offers a touch of the Bedouin tent with its filmy white curtain and juggling balls first glimpsed in what looks like a snakecharmer's basket. There are times when what you are watching does appear to be magic - as Schwietzke manipulates the balls not just with his hands but with his elbows, the crook of his neck and even his ears. At times, they seem to run down and across his body like balls of mercury; at others, they rise and drop in arcs like waterfalls of solid objects that blur together in mid-air as if defying all the laws of physics.
Despite the strong impression that the balls are attached to Schwietzke's hands and body by invisible threads, they sometimes get away; this is by no means flawless in execution. In fact, the balls quite frequently hit the floor. No matter, there is something about Schwietzke's presence and wry smile that is calm and meditative, even in adversity.
But the relationship between Schwietzke and his on-stage double bassist, Michel Bismut, is not sufficiently defined and neither is the association between the juggling and the music. Nice, but not sufficiently layered to really satisfy.
