The circus I might just run away and join
Rupert Christiansen has had enough of the urban grind and is thinking of running away to join Giffords Circus.
Flights of fancy: Nell Gifford, above, believes 'circus ought to make you cry with joy. It must cast a spell’By Rupert Christiansen
from: www.telegraph.co.uk
20 Jun 2011
You may be hearing nothing more from me. My car has just failed its MOT and there’s rising damp in the bathroom. I have had enough of the urban grind.
In fact, I am running away to join the circus – specifically the wondrous Giffords Circus, currently touring the west of England (this week it visits Broadway and Tackley) in a small big top.
Giffords is not some tacky Billy Smart’s spectacular or slick Cirque du Soleil affair. Founded 12 years ago by the Amazonian Oxford English graduate Nell Gifford, with the practical help of her landscaper-farmer husband Toti, it is a sophisticated attempt to revive a more naïve and traditional form of popular entertainment, which doesn’t rely on the exploitation of animals or tricks of technology to make its impact.
“The Russians are still the most highly trained and skilled performers; the French have had all the new creative ideas. But I think our circus is more warm-hearted,” Nell told me in her caravan before the show, as her adorable tiny twins Red and Cecil played on the floor beside her. “Circus ought to make you cry with joy. It must cast a spell. So it needs to be beautiful.”
Her circus certainly is that, and more. The show is differently themed every year: 2011 offers a cartoon version of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, interspersed with a series of acts and interludes made faintly relevant to the novel’s basic plot. Irina Brown has devised the adaptation, Kit Hesketh-Harvey has written the lyrics for the songs and Sarah Llewellyn has composed intoxicating music for a gloriously rumbustious town band
A clown called Tweedy (much celebrated in clowning circles, I’m told) acts as ringmaster – astonishingly, given the standard comedy value of clowns, he is actually quite funny. Nell herself plays Pierre’s regal wife Helene on horseback, giving a noble display of dressage. There’s a thrilling military parade and a weird procession of masked Mummers. Napoleon is a dazzlingly balletic knife-thrower, and a troupe of real Russians do some fabulous acrobatics, bouncing on bars and jumping through hoops, while the Ethiopian twin jugglers Bibi and Bichu fiddle while Moscow burns. Two superb Shire horses make a heart-stopping appearance, as do a fearsome hawk and some endearing geese. It is deeply exotic and totally English.
Giffords tours with an équipe of about 70. One is mightily curious about its members and what happens after the audience has gone. You know what they say: circus people observe the mysteries of free love. I also imagine jolly sing-songs round camp fires and delicious barbecues. Yes, I really, really want to join. At once.
Meanwhile, a visit to Giffords is strongly recommended to anyone who wants to get in touch with their inner child. Cry for joy? I certainly did.
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