Fringe dance reviews: The Palestinian Circus: A Step and a Half | Tale of the Firebird | Double Take + more
The Palestine Circus delivers an extraordinary display of joy, resilience and hope that is intoxicating to watch


The Palestinian Circus: A Step and a Half ★★★★★
Underbelly's Circus Hub on the Meadows (Venue 360) until 29 August
The Palestinian Circus: A Step and A Half begins not with acrobatics or tricks, but with eight performers setting up on stage. They hoist up a Chinese pole, exchange joke handshakes and dance to the dabke music that thrums throughout the circus tent.
Before anything has officially started, it is immediately obvious: this is a show about solidarity, love, and connection. Circus is ultimately a craft predicated on trust and care; the performers of The Palestinian Circus take these fundamental building blocks and integrate them in every aspect of the show’s runtime, from set up to final bows. In doing so, The Palestinian Circus: A Step and a Half stages joy, resilience and hope as the ultimate acts of defiance, with an energy that is intoxicating to watch.
It is remarkable, in a way, how deeply revolutionary a performance that never explicitly mentions a political context can be. Instead, The Palestinian Circus embodies its resistance through the euphoria of its craft.
The drops from the Chinese pole seem genuinely death defying; a routine with a Cyr wheel has all the tenderness of a duet; a diabolo performance is executed with so much playfulness that watching it feels like being a child, witnessing the possibilities of circus for the first time. In a flawless trapeze routine, a keffiyeh stitched onto the performer’s jeans flares out like a flag as she pirouettes in the air.
The Palestinian Circus is extraordinary not just for the technical mastery of its performers – all of whom trained in the West Bank – but also for how it understands the way other cultural touchstones – from the celebratory beat of the dabke to the simple significance of the keffiyeh and tatreez embroidery – can permeate an art form that until now seemed so fixed and familiar.
With over 4000 shows in the Fringe programme, sometimes a single show comes along that reminds you what the entire point is: what this festival can host in terms of innovation and self-expression and cultural exchange, if we only open ourselves up to it.
The Palestinian Circus: A Step and a Half is just that show. What a miracle that it exists, and that we have the privilege of witnessing it. Anahit Behrooz
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Tale of the Firebird – Concerto for Violin, Fire & Acrobatic Orchestra ★★★★
Assembly Roxy (Venue 139) until 30 August
When you hear about somebody being a ‘triple threat’, it usually means singing, acting and dancing. But Sonja Schebeck, artistic director of Australia's Freestyle Orchestra, has worked hard to achieve a very different skillset.
A consummate violinist, Schebeck is also a supple aerialist and fearless fire breather. Which would make her stand out in any crowd, except here, where she’s surrounded by an entire ensemble of multi-talented performers.
The basic premise of the Freestyle Orchestra is that everyone should have more than one string to their bow. So while they’re busy playing violin, harp, double bass and piano, they’re also taking part in a range of acrobatic tricks.
If at times it feels as if a few too many flavours have been added to the mix, this does nothing to diminish the impressiveness of their endeavour. Although one stand-out moment features a beautiful violin solo accompanying an equally beautiful routine on aerial silks, suggesting that sometimes less can indeed be more.
For Tale of the Firebird, Freestyle commissioned Hungarian-Australian composer Chloé Charody to write a concerto, specifically designed to support their multifarious activities. It’s a dramatic, often frenetic, piece of music which traces the legend of the phoenix (hence the fire-play).
Although if there’s a narrative thread here, it’s not easily followed, and the dark lighting does little to evoke a sense of rising joyfulness. But what hooks in the crowd time and again, is the cleverly inventive way the ensemble combines music and movement.
Climbing into an aerial rope, and securing her harp in another, one woman leaves the ground and keeps on playing. Another continues bowing her instrument despite standing on someone’s shoulders. Never has the term ‘and the band played on’ felt more appropriate. Kelly Apter
Double Take ★★★
Underbelly, Bristo Square (Venue 302) until 30 August
If you’ve ever attempted to follow an online cookery demonstration, you’ll instantly recognise David Jenkins’ plight in Double Take. With a dinner guest on the way and time running out, he frantically assembles ingredients, locates utensils, and tries to keep up with Tia Cassmira’s instructions.
All of which, somewhat miraculously, is conveyed without a single word, prop or costume. This talented mime duo, members of New York’s Broken Box Mime Theater, silently portray the entire comic scene, as Jenkins’ desperation slowly builds. In particular, Cassmira’s ability to depict a rewound YouTube video proves hilarious.
This is just one of eight scenarios the duo act out, although arguably the most successful. Elsewhere we find them attempting to remove an insect from the house, recalling a past love, and a poignant scene in which a father now lost to dementia recalls skimming stones with his young daughter.
A request from a rude shoe shop customer also leads to a witty and imaginative gaming-inspired quest.
Not everything is as easy to follow as it might be, however, including an ambitious scene attempting to capture everything from the Big Bang onwards. But Jenkins and Cassmira’s skill, both for comedy and solemnity, is never in doubt. Kelly Apter
Bigger - France Showcase ★★★
French Institute (Venue 168) until 29 August
Audiences are so used to seeing dancers who are slim of frame, that when Sofiane Chalal walks onto the stage, he’s sometimes met with confused derision.
Overhearing the words “Oh, he’s fat” prior to performing obviously has an emotional impact, but as we learn in this powerful solo show, Chalal has learned to rise above it. More importantly, once he starts to dance, his body does all the talking.
For Chalal is a talented exponent of hip hop, having danced it since childhood. His rotund torso gives an insistent strength to krump, and an unexpected spryness to popping.
In between choreographic routines and deeply moving audio expressing life as a “fat man” (as he terms it), Chalal dips into silent comedy. Citing Charlie Chaplin and Laurel and Hardy as influences in the post-show Q&A, you can see their hallmark in his work with costumes and props.
That aspect of the show, however, feels like a work in progress. Whereas Chalal’s dancing, and storytelling, are very much the real deal. Fleshed out with more of those, Bigger could be very special indeed. Kelly Apter
Taiwan Season: Under Mask ★★★
Dance Base (Venue 22) until 30 August
They arrive in skin-coloured underwear, vulnerable and open to the world. But before long, the four performers of Taiwan’s Mailantia Dance Company have pulled on loose material that billows and sway as they move.
Not only buying protection, but giving them an even greater sense of perpetual motion as they swoop and fold. Blending old and new, choreographer Lai Yun-Chi uses elements of traditional dance, contemporary, and hip hop – all of which these talented, energetic dancers handle with aplomb.
For much of the show, the dancer’s faces are hidden beneath intricate make-up and sturdy masks. Inspired by steampunk, and fashioned from stiff leather, zips, studs and small metal wheels, these masks are a work of art in themselves.
Some cover a dancer’s eyes and forehead, some the mouth and chin, all bring about a sense of claustrophobia in the warm, dimly lit space. Which feels appropriate given the show’s mission to explore the parts of us we choose to share, and the bits we’d rather conceal.
It’s stifling not to feel free enough to be ourselves, and the masks capture this completely. A consequence, however, is decreased emotional connection and a sense we’re being held at arm’s length from the dancers’ inner world. Kelly Apter
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