An acrobat named Kate takes the microphone and tells us about a TV show she took part in. The male performers were tasked with powerful tumbling, while Kate, a specialist tumbler, was asked to do “dainty feminine aerial routines”, lots of splits and give her “best smile”. She shows us her best smile, but not before she has casually reeled off some hands-free flips to underline her point.
Sexism runs deep at the circus, but in director Ellie Dubois’ No Show, the five female performers are doing things on their own terms. It’s a show that asks you to look again at your expectations, in all sorts of ways. Circus runs on graft and risk, but that’s usually airbrushed out to give the impression of superhuman ability. In No Show, the performers couldn’t be more human, ordinary even, except for an extra dose of daring and the fact they’ve trained hard to teach their bodies to do some remarkable things.
There’s no hiding the effort. In a contest to see who can stand on one leg the longest (the other leg hoisted high in the air), the women wobble, teeter, giggle and tumble, until the blood drains from their toes, their tendons strain and you’re really rooting for them. The scene throws up the absurdity of such gymnastic challenges. What do we want from the circus, anyway? The hardest trick? How do you even know what that is? Dubois shuns spectacle and makes acts interesting by taking them apart and showing the workings, by advertising the risks (crushed toes!) and setting up her performers for petty failures (can they break a world record? No!). But they’re not hiding their talents either, there’s some dreamy cyr wheel, spinning in spirograph circles, and an eyebrow-raising hair-hanging act – if you haven’t seen hair-hanging before, go for that alone.
No Show is a purposefully un-slick mix of politics, postmodernism, cute larks and proper tricks. The tone doesn’t always quite work, but it’s warm, funny, likable, and offers up a subtle challenge to the circus establishment, plus a little wow factor for anyone allergic to the razzle-dazzle of the big top.
• At Soho theatre, London, until 9 February.
