Val: This is one of those performances that makes something look so elegantly, delicately simple – but is in fact mind-bogglingly complex and complicated and more skillful than any of us ordinary Joannas in the audience could even dream of being. And it’s very, very funny.
Jay: Yeah, that family circus heritage really shows, ay. I love the tiny but perfectly formed big top, it's worth seeing on it's own even if you don't make it to a performance. Also: all experiences which begin with walking through a velvet curtain are off to a good start.
V: What would you call the style? Distressed?
J: Haha yes – it’s got a really great Italian 16th century style and it's designed to look like it's been around a while. Maybe it has!
V:So there’s only two of them performing the show. And what little dialogue there is, is nonsensical or this highly-iffy cod-Italian. So the whole punch of the show comes from the visual impact and the emotional connection they build up with the audience.
J: Which comes slowly but surely – they really worm their way into your head. You don’t realise you’ve been completely and irreversibly sucked into this surreal world that they inhabit, until it's too late.
V:Oh, there is one other character, of course. The barrel-organ at the back. Which plays all the music (when it feels like it) and dispenses most of the props. It is a worryingly living creature…
J: Yes, so with just two of them, plus the machine with a ghost in it, obviously what they do next is co-opt four people straight out the audience.
V:They use more ‘volunteers’ than players! And they weave them into the story and the action so tightly, so perfectly, I found myself wondering whether they were plants. I honestly don’t think they were – but rather that the brothers adapt each performance around whoever gets picked.
J: I had similar thoughts about the tricks and set-ups that apparently 'failed'. Let’s face it, the things they were attempting looked so difficult you’d expect a high degree of miss! But the way they responded to the 'misses' was precious comedy metal. That aspect of it reminded me a bit of Tommy Cooper.
V:Yup, from the way they followed up each ‘failure’ it was impossible to tell whether they were deliberately building tension, or just had a whole trailer full of appropriate reactions round the back, ready to pull out in each situation. People who can pull off that ‘rehearsed improv’ are my absolute comedy heroes!
J: There is a story arc, of course, that you get carried along with but it’s totally hat-stand. There are power struggles, rivalries, romance, thwarted ambitions…
V:…lollipops, comedy trousers, completely out of proportion kitchen equipment...
J: ...and of course pizza! All mixed in with their own miniaturised versions of high-wire acts, balancing acts, juggling, clowning. All wonderful entertaining stuff.
V:Ah jugglers! Now, as anyone who knows me can tell you, if there’s one thing I hate more than poetry – its juggling. And I think I know why – because Circus Ronaldo is how it’s supposed to be done.
J: Yes I was surprised you enjoyed that. Maybe it was because, rather than a person standing there with his balls in his hand saying “look at me! I’m a juggler!”, everything on the stage (up to and including the audience volunteers!) were part of the act? Everything was used, worked in, worked around, thrown between.
V:This show is literally enthralling. It moves very slowly in places – and you’re hanging on the action, just staring at it. And then there are other parts that move so fast, and are so completely engaging, you have the whole heart-pounding and having to remember to breathe.
J: Verdict: The perfect mix of circus and physical theatre served on a crispy pizza base.
Z I N G !
(Go and see it – you'll love it!)
Danny and David Ronaldo are sixth generation Belgian circus performers who brought their take on comemedia dell’arte to the Auckland Arts Festival. Last show 18th March. |