Wonderful World of Cirkus Cirkör - Inside Out at BAM

On my first trip to New York City from Upstate New York where I went to college, I tried to find the classical New York excursions while remaining a non-tourist. The Big Apple Circus in Lincoln Center which takes place every year from end of October to begining of January was such an event. I don’t really like circuses, but at the same time I’m always drawn to them. The possibility of seeing something magical excites me however I’m always weary of the fact that it all turns into a show where the acrobats are just actresses trying to please the audience. This makes me incredibly sad and I cannot help to think what would happen if they could find other jobs and be somewhere else; would they be happier? Cirkus Cirkor’s Inside Out on the other hand is something really magical; not because it’s a circus but because it’s a piece of art.

Not even for a single second will the crew of this Sweden based troupe make you feel pressured to be amazed by what’s happening on stage. They’re telling a story, living a life and they don’t really care how much you like it as long as you’re touched by it. And with the live music of Irya’s Playground as a backdrop, it’s impossible not to be touched.

In ordinary circuses there are those moments of silence the performer requests in order to concentrate. If for instance a lion is about to jump from a loop all you can hear at that moment is a depressive command by its trainer: “Hop!” Then comes the clapping and the performer bows his head, gives the lion a cookie. It’s consumer culture at its best; a post-modern royalty entertainment. In Cirkus Cirkor nobody bows until the end and they don’t use any live animals. It’s a 2 hour show, intermission included, and throughout mistakes are made, there are awkward moments of stillness where the performers just hang out on stage and you kind of watch them just be themselves. They even close a transparent curtain and bow at the other side of it, with their backs turned to the real audience. There is a hidden sarcasm in regards to animal usage. At the first scene a clown dressed as a retired ballerina (she’s fat, her hair is messy and the make up is not very proper) tries to tame a toy horse. She (played by Angela Wand) rides on it as if it’s real and expects the audience to clap her for the performance.

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It’s hilarious really but so comforting and enjoyable at the same time. Instead of expecting what the next trick will be, you are interested in finding out how the story will unfold. The white clown (played by Fredrik Deijfen), who is also sort of the host of the night, leads the audience into a story about life and death. He calls for a volunteer and picks Christene. Asks her questions, doesn’t wait for an answer. Christene is a working woman, wearing a suit and carrying a hand bag. She’s hesitant, she holds her bag tightly, fixes up her hair once in a while, tries to stay strong as the white clown messes up with her mind. “You’re still living Christene, when you’re actually dead,” the clown tells her and the story takes off. As Irya’ Playground plays “Without a Warning” Christene tries to understand the difference between life and death. Played by Anna Lagervist, Christene performs on a tight rope hanging down from the roof. She lets herself drop all the way to the bottom until decides to hold herself together just before she hits the floor.

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Will she be able to take risks and live her life ? Will she hear her heart pounding inside her body again or will it remain as a distant voice ? These questions go for the audience as well. At least that’s what the director Tilde Bjorfors has aimed at doing. When I left the theater I was full of life; I ran all the way from the subway station to my house. One reason for that was really pragmatic. I thought this show would do perfect in Istanbul, Turkey, where I am from. I even imagined the acrobats performing to the music of Gevende, a Turkish psychedelic folk band. I also felt that I’d seen the most beautiful thing in the world.

I have to admit I did not see Cirque du Soleil, so according to New York Times critic Jason Zinoman, who claims that “how much you enjoy `Inside Out,` the moody blend of modern and traditional circus by the Swedish troupe Cirkus Cirkör depends to a large degree on whether you’ve recently seen Cirque du Soleil,” I may be exaggerating. However he later goes on to say that “the bag of tricks of Cirkus Cirkör’s jittery ringleader is skimpy, the show’s pacing slack, and the leaps and stunts awfully modest.” To that I’d like to say Zinoman’s heartless, but that might be inappropriate. Instead I’d like to say that as audiences we seem to be too comfortable sitting at our seats; judging shows as if they’re a type of cheese. One might say they like the brie because of its smooth texture and hate Edwin’s Munster since it lacks such smoothness. However comparing shows on such vague standards, judging a show as bad just because there was not enough heart pounding tricks, that’s just being an amateur. In a world where everything’s specialized and everyone feels the need to become professionals, I enjoy the moments of hesitation, imperfection and just plain humanity. I’d like to thank Cirkus Cirkor for giving that to me even if it was for a short period of time.