A recent sms from my mother: “I fell in love with elephants”. No, she hasn’t moved to Africa; my mother has been visiting St.Peters- burg in February. The only elephants to be found at this time of the year in St.Petersburg (or any other time of the year in St.Petersburg) were in a circus…
Now, wait a minute, am I missing something here? My mom, who since I can remember (and that would be for about 30 years this time) was declaring her disdain for circus and was vigorously cultivating a matching contempt in her two daughters, was IN LOVE with it? Here is a heart break for you. Is there anything for me left to believe in? Anything at all? It was my third favorite subject (after Casinos and ZOOs) to pour my scorn on (not that I do it often or excessively). I feel like I lost the best comrade, the ideological anti-circus leader. Disoriented and determinated to prove her wrong I am going undercover.
Here I am, sitting in S12 train from Brugg to Winterthur on a sunny Thursday morning, reading the new brilliant novel by Nick Hornby “Juliet, Naked”, and trying to reason what is wrong with the circus:
1. Clowns. They are scary. Not funny. Fake. (The only clown I ever liked was on a photo – it was the best art item of an exposition I visited few years back – he looked frustrated and has been curled up in a bath tub with a bottle of wine).
2. Animals. Don’t, oh, don’t tell me they prefer jiggling balls and dancing, to running around the savannah and copulating happily. Every time I hear about accidents involving a trainer I feel a little pang of satisfaction (scratch out the lethal cases, I am not that vicious). But still, remember the recent tragedy when the killer whale dragged his 40 year old woman trainer under water and she died? … Hello? It’s a KILLER whale, remember? Never underestimate the nature.
3. Acrobats. I mean, have you seen those muscles? With those physiques they should join a fire brigade or REGA, or something, I mean, what a waste. The best counterargument I got to this one was: “You are making art. There is no use to it either”. Righty.
Arriving to Rikon, ZH where Circolino Pipistrello is stationed. For a couple of hours I am “a representative of the Russian National Circus”, as Marc Palino Brunner, the director of the upcoming new production “EIN SOMMERNACHTSTRAUM”, jokingly introduced me to the troupe. I am watching, absorbing, and trying not to be judgmental (which isn’t even an issue by the way). No clowns with orange wigs. Check. No animals (at least I haven’t seen one apart from lazy cats stretched out on the sun). Check. Some muscles indeed, but it is actually quite pleasant to look at them (err…scratch that one too). Check.
What I see is a group of young alternative men and women (personally I don’t like the term “alternative”, misused too much and is too general – alternative to what?) with a passion for acting, for drama. Their enthusiasm, their bravado is contagious. I am enjoying the preparation process so much that I decide not to stay for the general rehearsal with costumes in case I come to their premiere this weekend. I can’t believe it is happening to me…