He’s very special.
I’m going to be blatantly honest here (when am I not, really) and say that I’ve grown up absolutely detesting the circus. I remember in my younger years being terrified to the point of sleeplessness when confronted with a clown toy. I’ve imagined it coming alive in the midst of the night to strangle me with it’s dangly and lank fabric arms and its red-wool hair flailing about, painted face contorted in aggressive determination to kill me. So, to say that I’m not a fan of circuses, or more specifically, clowns, would be but a slight under exaggeration (cough).
On the other hand, I have an affliction for having fun and seeing interesting things, so, with my fear of clowns in tow, I bravely suggested that a few friends and I go check out the Cirque Du Soleil show that was heading to Brisbane. That’s right, a child of fear heading into the gaping maw of the circus tent, WHAT IN THE NAME OF BATMAN’S BATMOBILE WAS I THINKING? Suffice to say, my bravery was rewarded by having a big fat and wholesome giggle – we bought tickets to the Saltimbanco show (costing us a hefty $149 a head) and were treated to prime seats so close to the stage that one of the clowns (freaking out) cheekily threw a handful of my friend’s popcorn into the air for kicks during the pre-show ice-breaker.
Apparently (according to the website and the Italian language), Saltimbaco literally means “to jump on a bench”. Which, in my experience, never ends well and usually involves a scraping injury of some sort – in this case it refers to this whole show being based in an urban landscape and “the people who live their, their idiosyncrasies and likenesses, families and groups, the hustle and bustle of the street and the towering heights of skyscrapers.” Now, I sure wish I read up on the show before I went, because it makes a helluva lot more sense now than when I was sitting in my seat being assaulted by whirlwind Italian and wondering what the crap was going on.
Chinese “Pole Dancing”. Note: they are fully clothed.
The show had all that one could imagine in an over-the-top circus performance – trapeze artists and muscular men and woman bouncing, weaving, and flying about and my favourite parts of the show included the Artistic Bicycle (a guy riding a bike artistically) and Chinese Poles (a bunch of incredibly muscular folk climbing up and down and jumping off poles, to pole to pole and around poles). And of course, the mime. Yes, the mime. An awesome awesome mime. I’m actually mortified of mimes (among other things), but this mime made me feel…er…less hostile towards the art of mimicry. Is hostile the word? Well I guess it is – usually, every time I see a mime I want to punch them in the face.
I’m just that sort of girl.
By the time the show was over and we had left the packed premises, we had to traipse around the city trying to find something to eat – of course pretty much nothing was open – it being Brisbane and 8.45 PM on a Sunday night, our choices were cut so slim you could see through them. In the end, we decided (forced) the consume Grill’d burgers – not that there is anything wrong with burgers, of course – especially when you can have a delicious Little Creatures pale ale with it. Mmm, beery goodness.
BTW: I’m still absolutely scared of clowns. Or should I say, I suffer from Coulrophobia. Really. It’s totes a word, guys. Totes.