Fringe Physical Theatre

Mary Brennan

Tipping Point

C Scala

Four Stars

Snap

Assembly, George Square

Three Stars

Molhandos & Secos

Zoo Aviary

Three Stars

CHINESE poles: for shinning up – maybe doing a few, sinew-stressing mid-air holds – then free-falling back to earth again. Gasps of delighted alarm from audiences, and on to the next bit of circus kit. Tipping Point sees Ockham’s Razor get to grips with the perceived one-trick nature of that apparatus – and upend it, spin it, uncouple it and deny it in a show that balances mystique and rigour, often at high speed, or at great height. The “wow!” effect, however, has a symbolic, even spiritual context.

It begins with the drawing of a circle, and a reminder of a very necessary ritual. A pole is unstoppered at one end, pivoted on the axis of a steady shoulder, disgorges a stream of white powder – like the chalk acrobats use to combat slippery-sweaty hands. The circle has profound significance across cultures, but here it acts as a threshold: those inside it are bonded by their trust in one another’s expertise and timely support. Both are evident as sheeny 15 foot metal poles are hefted into criss-crossing patterns where bodies balance, even while the poles are in motion. Think mountain goats – but with a sense of humour that allows for the teasing wobble that tests focus and equilibrium.

Four poles are already secured to the corners of the rig. Let loose, they swing like a forest of pendulums. Their variable momentum adds another level of risk, another demonstration of group trust. Would you walk blindfold through such shifting hazards, with only a colleague’s voice to guide you? Off the ground, the aerial skills that Ockham’s Razor specialises in create a thrilling negotiation between moving bodies: five of them flesh-and-blood, five of them metal. This interplay, heightened by canny lighting and an imaginative soundscore, utterly banishes circus tricksiness from the ring. As we leave, a free-wheeling pole is spooling out a powdery-white mandala in the now-empty circle...

Run ended

SNAP – a showcase of Korean magic acts and illusionists – is all about tricks. Some are a bit more obvious than others – we’ve come to suspect that tricks really are up sleeves, or that the stuff of deception is going on behind the conjurer’s back. But there is such style attached to every sequence, and some episodes really twinkle and tease with “how did they do that?” mysteries, that you’re happy to collude in the illusions and be entertained by the comedy. This comes between acts courtesy of The Tricksters (C.S. Choi, Lee Yeong-min and Mun Jeong-seok) who goof about in a cleverly lackadaisical fashion while popping through a door that exists between our reality and a realm of magic puzzlements that even stretch to re-winding time. They do, in fact, become a part of that action,with nods in the direction of Hollywood – home of cinematic illusion – adding slapstick to the sleight of hand.

The funny business would wear thin, however, if it didn’t give way to elements of strange beauty and bravura technique. The beauty hovers and flows between the fingers of the The Alchemist (Y.M. Kim) who seems to have mastered the secrets of the Philosopher’s Stone as he transforms grains of sand into flower petals before dazzling us with a truly glittering finale. The Flash (AKA Duo Magic) enviably resolves the problem of what to wear by a series of quick changes that whisk the couple from day-wear to evening finery in the blink of an eye – not that a even a very wide-open eye would catch the twitch of a split-second switch!

Runs until Monday

NOW, I could try and trick you into thinking I know exactly what’s going on in Molhados & Secos (Wet and Dry) by Brazilian company Paraladosanjos. In truth, I’m more than happy to be bamboozled by Marilia Ennes and Marcos Becker whose control over their bodies – one minute, all jerky electrified convulsings, the next going swimmingly in a superb underwater scene – that I save my musings on their manic dramas and comedic turns until later. I reckon, however, that it’s a knowingly freaking-out response to the divide between rich and poor in Brazil: those who can afford to live above the high water line and those who lose the little they once had in devastating floods. Those who stay thirsty while others sip cocktails and waste water. It’s not all a carnival in Rio.

Runs until Monday