Wistfully romantic, elegant and even poetic - not the usual run of words that spring to mind when the circus comes to town.

But they fit like a spangled lycra bodysuit on Canadian company Cirque �loize, who arrive in Edinburgh this week with their only Scottish performances of Cirkopolis.

Edinburgh, it turns out, is a significant place for Cirque �loize: the Fringe of 1999 was, according to co-founder/director Jeannot Painchaud, their springboard into Europe and the international touring circuit that has subsequently taken them worldwide, bringing fans by the hundreds of thousands and awards by the dozen. That early show was called Excentricus, and when I mention that I saw it, and reviewed it enthusiastically, the phone line from Glasgow to Montreal crackles with happy amazement. "You did? That was you? I was in that show, you know. Ohhh... this is bringing back memories." Among those memories are the initial how and why of Cirque �loize itself.

At 18, Painchaud - now in his late forties - was on a backpacking trip across Quebec. Running away to join a circus wasn't anywhere on his agenda. Born and brought up in the Magdalen Islands in the Gulf of St Lawrence off Nova Scotia, he wanted to see a bit more of Quebec's big city life.

"I made a detour to see the Tall Ships festival in Quebec City," he says, "and totally by chance I saw the first ever show by Cirque du Soleil. It changed my life."

The National Circus School (NCS) in Montreal had come on-stream, so Painchaud signed up. "I told myself it was going to be my wonderful hobby" he says, laughing. By the time he'd honed his skills - juggling, unicycle, acrobatics - there was no going back to the Magdalen Islands. No need, in a way: he wasn't the only Magdalen Islander who studied at the NCS and in time they would form the core of Cirque �loize.

Among them was the company co-founder, Daniel Cyr - as in the Cyr Wheel. "Daniel invented it," explains Painchaud. "Now you see it in circus shows all over the world but Daniel was the innovator, working out how to spin inside this big metal hoop, how to do more and more sophisticated actions, while the wheel itself is spinning. We have a wonderful girl doing Cyr Wheel in Cirkopolis, and I think it's one of the most beautiful parts of the show."

It is. When Lea Toran Jenner, in her floaty red frock, rolls and turns head over heels, she's like a bright butterfly - or maybe a flame - against the brooding grey visuals that are the projected backdrop for Cirque �loize's bravura challenge to grinding, Kafka-esque mundanity.

Painchaud confirms that he had Kafka in mind when he started sketching out the themes and overall feel of Cirkopolis. Terry Gilliam's film Brazil was another inspirational touchstone while the designers were given Fritz Lang's 1927 German Expressionist science-fiction film Metropolis as a "mood board" for the visuals that are projected throughout on the back wall.

"We don't actually use Lang's film," admits Painchaud, "but our video projections use the same monochrome look to create a sense of the city as a machine, a soul-less machine where everyone is held down by uniformity and greyness. And we have this one little guy, working away in his grey little office, no colour in his life - no personality, no individuality. But then... then it starts to get a little crazy!"

"Crazy" hardly does justice to the madcap mix of circus skills, dance, theatre and evocative music that opens up a brave new world for our drudging-mudging little clerk.

"It starts off in a kind of routine reality," agrees Painchaud, "but then it grows into something very surreal. Our character - he's not really a clown character, more of a Chaplin-esque little guy - is trapped in a world where there's no warmth, no joy. Yet deep inside he longs for something to break through the machinery of his daily life. Something that frees him to be himself. And yes, for us in Cirkopolis, that is circus."

Devon-born Ashley Carr, who inhabits the grey suit of that character, was all set to carve out a future in business studies. He had been taking classes at London's Circus Space which were - echoes of Painchaud here - only a hobby, but later, when he emerged from the Central School of Speech and Drama with a Jerwood Award, he realised he had found a truer metier than that original career plan. Even so, he knocked about a bit: travelling, doing some acting here and a bit of street theatre there.

"I really enjoyed the street theatre experience," Carr says. "It's very humble and honest: if people don't like what you're doing, you don't eat. And you learn from that. You learn a lot about audiences, about how to connect with people whether they're in Hong Kong or Paris, Sydney or Moscow."

Connecting with people, making them laugh but, more than that, moving them - often to unexpected tears - is a main reason why Carr, who has accrued a mass of other circus skills, is still drawn to the role of the clown.

"A clown brings people into the heart of the show," he explains. "His vulnerability shows people their own vulnerability, awakens them to the beauty of simple things and the pleasure those little things can bring. That definitely interests me. Because, on a deeper level it's about taking people on a journey, it's about imagination, yours and theirs.

"In Cirkopolis, I think it's about maybe just your looking away from the computer screen - or in my character's case, the never-ending pile of papers to be rubber-stamped - and seeing what's around you. It could be spring flowers. Or somebody in bright colours. A song on the radio that makes you happy. You don't even need to know why, you just take time to live and enjoy that moment."

One moment that catches audiences in Cirkopolis, tugging at the heart even as it thrills the eye, is the duet Carr has with a red dress. No one is wearing it. It's on a hanger, among drab overcoats on a clothes rail, when he spots it. He impulsively threads a white scarf through, to make two arms, and then - as if he was Fred and the frock was Ginger - he dances.

The dress never leaves the hanger, or the clothes rail. But as Carr swishes the folds into a dream partner, balancing on the foot-rail in the process, the sequence becomes poetry in motion. And "poetry" is a word that recurs in conversations with both Carr and Painchaud.

Carr credits seeing Nomade (a Cirque �loize production originated in 2005) in Athens as a turning point for him. "I was totally captivated by the aesthetics and artistry of the show," he says. "There was such poetry and beauty in it. I came away feeling inspired."

He joined the company in 2007 and clearly still feels inspired by the concepts and performative processes that underpin each new production.

"Audiences for Cirkopolis are going to see some wonderfully original circus acts, but what the show is really about is how a society can trap people into leading an unfulfilled life, and put pressure on people to do and be things they don't want to be or do. I think a lot of people probably feel that way.

"My character in Cirkopolis doesn't win the lottery, but he learns to let go - and I want to express this through my performance so that when the viewer leaves they are altered in some very small way. This is why I work in the circus and not in a mundane office. But then I'm fortunate to be with Cirque �loize!"

As for Painchaud, his role as a front-runner in the modern circus movement hasn't lost any of its challenges or appeal over the 20 or so years of Cirque �loize's groundbreaking creations. And while he'll never underplay the rigour and discipline involved at every level, from the acrobatics to the zoom lens in the visuals, he'll talk of circus having poetry, humour, energy and sensitivity. Cirkopolis proves he has a right to use those words.

Cirkopolis is at Edinburgh's Festival Theatre from April 1-4, www.edtheatres.com