I think it is the heady mixture of anticipation fuelled by the swirling strains of carnival music that creates the special La Clique atmosphere.
We, the audience, sit encircling a small, circular stage, our inhibitions and responsibilities checked at the door, our appetites piqued, and then it begins. Amazing acrobatic feats performed by taut and buffed bodies. This is our universe for the next two hours. We try to clap each new daring manoevre, but we are often too anxious, fearing that at any moment a performer might slip or crash, right before our eyes.
This is very intimate circus with rauchy, adult banter. This is everything we fear and love, all at once, non-stop, where we are sure that “the show will go on” no matter what befalls any member of the company.
Tennis rackets, bath tubs, precariously perched towers of tin cans, and even kazoos feature in a spellbinding night. My jaw ached from hitting the ground again and again. My only criticism is that much of the second act is a little soft and perhaps the show could be more efficiently trimmed to a powerhouse 90 minute performance, but the first act’s riches are reward enough. Bravo!