Traces, a circus show from the French-Canadian troupe the 7 Fingers, was one of the great pleasures of Edinburgh this year. But this earlier piece from the same company (but tellingly, not the same performers) is nowhere near the same league either for excitement or the way it explores the tensions, trust and relationships between the performers.
What you do get here is a similar interesting melding of acrobatics and dance. It focuses on seven people sharing an apartment who seem to hang about in their undies all day and occasionally break into a circus routine. The piece was originally developed five years ago - quite honestly, as the Roundhouse's own autumn programme has demonstrated, circus has moved on in its ability to use both narrative and metaphor.
Though this box of tricks has some pleasures, including a very enjoyable diabolo routine, often it seems little more than a grungy, less well-resourced version of Cirque du Soleil. It may substitute cheesy Coldplay for cheesy Europop, but is overlaid with the same philosophy that doing the splits in mid-air will somehow tell you something about the meaning of life if you dress it up with a meandering commentary about apples and temptation. It may all be as nice as apple pie, but it lacks any real sense of danger or indeed a comic edge.
There are plenty of things to ooh and aah over, including some superb balancing and a bit of tumbling, and the show has a nice but underused piece of business with a fridge that functions a bit like a CS Lewis wardrobe. I quite enjoyed the surreal dancing lampshades moment, too, but the initial filmed sequence is embarrassing and gets the show off to a tediously slow and uncertain start.
As usual at the Roundhouse, if you are sitting anywhere other than in the central section, you get a duff view. I still have a crick in my neck from craning to see. But this is pretty run-of-the- mill stuff performed by a company who sometimes look past their prime and have none of the dynamism of their Edinburgh colleagues, or a willingness to genuinely reveal themselves through the very act of performing. Without the risk, it is all just mildly entertaining and easily forgotten.
· Until December 30. Box office: 0870 389 1846.
