For those of us less flexible and more earth-bound, watching circus can push the very limits of our muscular empathy. At a certain point, I just cannot imagine what it would be like to be swung around like a skipping rope for a full minute.
Instead of the shock factor of more traditional circus, this show elicits more awe than anxiety. The endless combinations, shapes, and impossible feats in Ten Thousand Hours are testament to both the exponential potential of the human body, and the creativity of Adeliade born circus company Gravity and Other Myths (GOM).
Great circus deals in the currency of HOW? How did they think of that? (e.g. stacking three people on top of each other and then falling like Jenga into the arms of their ensemble…), and more literally How did they do that (stand upside down on one hand for half a minute, fly through the air, create positions that look more like letters of the alphabet than human postures… you get it).
Ten Thousand Hours has both; inspired creative choreography, and unmatched athleticism. The show’s title is a riff off the advice that to become an expert at any skill you must practice for at least ten thousand hours. Over the course of an hour Gravity and Other Myths (or GOM, as they’re known at fringe) peel back the curtain to give a stylised peak at those ten thousand hours, what it takes to create and perform circus.
The eight-person ensemble enters the stage in their utilitarian grey active-wear. Benches line the outskirts of the stage emulating a gym floor, a guest appearance from a bottle of blue Gatorade completes the ‘behind the scenes’ mise-en-scène.
The show constantly oscillates between practice and performance, process and polish. One segment is sublimely rehearsed, the next is a duo trying a stunt over and over and over again, swaying, stumbling, repeating.
I had assumed that being an acrobat involved a massive amount of physical training, and we see odes to that, but my favourite aspect of Ten Thousand Hours was the way it forefronted experimentation, silliness, and affection in the acrobatic process. Breaking the fourth wall with to share a ‘made it!’ grin with the front row, sharing high fives, playing games with the audience all highlighted the giddy, joyful play of throwing bodies up and around and the beautiful choreography that can result.
The choreography plays with motifs, doubling bodies vertically, horizontally, mirroring each other, creating variations of a theme like crawl, lean, stand. A huge digital clock flashes as the backdrop, creating modular grids that the acrobats mimic with combinations of their bodies.
The acrobats oscillate between explosively tumbling back and forth like an atom expending light energy and holding poses with such stillness it feels as though the summer wind outside the tent has ceased to exist.
And of course, it all looks so easy until you notice the shudder of the stage under an acrobat as they land from a tumble, or the tensing of shaking muscle under stage lights, reminding us of the energy these bodies are generating, expelling, absorbing. You can appreciate the how of circus more when given a chance to understand it’s creation.
Not to be cheesy, but IF YOU SEE ONE FRINGE CIRCUS SHOW MAKE IT THIS!
5 Stars
Lilah Shapiro