#circus250

Chris Barltrop describes himself as “semi-nomadic”, but is originally from Walthamstow in London. He has entertained audiences all over Europe as a performer, and also devised, directed and facilitated shows. He has a lengthy theatre CV – including leading roles in Twelfth Night, The Crucible and Pygmalion – and has also appeared on TV programmes as diverse as The Dick Emery Show, The Royal Variety Performance, Casualty and Blue Peter. 

Chris has been a ringmaster for 40 years, including a lengthy run from 1997–2012 for the Grand Cirque de Noël in Toulouse, where he spoke in French. In the UK he has been general manager and MC for the Moscow State Circus, Gerry Cottle's Circus, Jimmy Chipperfield's Circus World and Continental Circus Berlin, among others. He lectures on the history of circus and circus life and is an in-demand after-dinner speaker.

Now Chris makes his Edinburgh Festival Fringe debut – opening on his 70th birthday – with his self-penned one-man play Audacious Mr Astley. The show – which celebrates the equestrian Philip Astley and marks the 250th anniversary since he started the art form in the UK – runs at the Pleasance Courtyard from 1-27 August 2018. Chris chats to Liz Arratoon.

The Widow Stanton: Were you formally trained as an actor? Chris Barltrop: I went to East 15 Acting School in the late 1960s. No one in my family was in the theatre but my father and my mother had done some amateur acting. My father was a teacher when I was small, but he stopped doing that to be a full-time writer and artist. So I grew up in a house that was arts orientated, full of books, and which was also full of political discussion. My parents used to go to see Joan Littlewood’s productions at Theatre Workshop, Stratford, when they were a young married couple so they saw a lot of actors and were very pleased when I eventually decided to go into it. I never had a plan for life and I haven’t now, really [laughs]. I was good at acting at school and suddenly decided to try it.

Part of my father’s personality was that he was a great raconteur and would tell stories and do the characters and voices. That gave me the idea it was fine to do that. I am, like a lot of performers, very, very shy, but you can hide behind a persona and face the world because it’s not you they’re looking at, it’s the ringmaster or Dogberry, or Malvolio; it’s the character. You’re putting up a front, like the clown with his mask.

What did you do on The Dick Emery Show? It was 1979, when Jimmy Chipperfield was approached by the BBC to do an episode setting all the sketches in the circus. It was wonderful to work with him. Dick was doing a summer show in Great Yarmouth. I went down to see him and he was very nice. I asked him to back my application for Equity membership and he wrote me a charming letter.

And on the Royal Variety Performance? I got in touch with the BBC, whose turn it was that year, and spoke to the producer, Kevin Bishop. He was very keen to include the Moscow State Circus, but he said I’d have to produce our spot. So I planned the spot and we did it as a little showcase; one trick from the Russian bar, 30 seconds of the hat juggling and the clowns and me standing on the side of the stage as ringmaster. [Laughs] The other time was 1989 or ’90, the producers wanted to include ‘The World of the Circus’; Paul Daniels introducing artists from Jolly’s Circus, from Gerry Cottle’s, from John Lawson’s… people brought snakes, Gerry brought a baby elephant, and I came on as the Moscow State Circus’ ringmaster.

How did you get into being a ringmaster? The circus was really an accident. Having finished drama school when it was still the days of the Equity closed shop, I didn’t have an Equity card and you couldn’t get a job without one. It was 18 months after graduating and I was doing fill-in jobs, driving, and so forth. We were living in a little cottage in Saffron Walden and my wife, Barbara, who was a teacher, had had to stop work when we had a baby daughter. So it was up to me to earn a living.

One week in The Stage there was an advert for Hoffman’s Circus: ‘Staff Wanted’. Not performers, but what we in the circus still call ‘billers’, people who put up the bills. They wanted a married couple to run the advance booking office. It said: “Luxury accommodation provided. Best terms in the business.” I said to my wife: ‘What do you think?’. We decided to write and if we got the job, we’d stick with it even if it was absolutely dreadful and awful, because we’d learn something. It was in the entertainment business; it was a new aspect to learn about.

The accommodation was in an artic vehicle that had been built as a mobile hairdressing studio for film location work. It was nicely fitted out and comfortable. We weren’t with the circus but we were on the circus and got to know it. We toured Scotland and enjoyed it very much, and asked if we could go back the following year when they were touring the West Country. One of them said; “You’re hooked.” We said: “No, we just fancy doing a second year,” but actually that was the case.

After that I went to work for Gerry Cottle, still putting posters up, and into the second season with him, he asked about my background. He thought I was better spoken than a lot of people and said would I like to try being ringmaster for one of his Christmas circuses in Cardiff. That was 1976. Then the next season he took me on to the circus as house manager and deputy ringmaster, but as the season went on it became more and more that is was me being the ringmaster all the time. It was very hectic, dealing with the public, doing a show, running back out and trying to do both at once. It was very enjoyable and I learnt a lot.

What qualities does a good ringmaster need? The public see the ringmaster as a sort of compere but in fact the ringmaster is the stage manager. I was very quickly aware that I needed to watch out for people’s wires and everything else and make sure things were safely put up and that the props were in the right place. So there’s an element of safety. I remember once when I was one of two assistant ringmasters to Norman Barrett, a Russian trapeze artist missed his trick and was falling. There was the safety net but it looked as though he was going right to the side of it. He was OK, but my reaction was to run forward and when I looked it was Norman Barrett and me running towards one another to do something about it.

That’s what you need, an awareness and a knowledge of the rigging and of what is happening to the artists. I’ve had swings on trapezes, I’ve climbed up to the high wire just to stand there and see what they’re seeing. It’s important to do that, and over and above that it’s alertness, awareness and a calm character because if something goes wrong you’ve got to deal with it. ‘Right, you pick that up, I’m going to talk to the audience, clear that and tell the clowns to come in… ladies and gentleman…’. You have to be concise and have the skill of thinking what to say next; so often when there’s a bit of action going on I’m editing words in my head. Also you have to be able to present yourself if it’s a TV interview. I do love the variety of it. You can be on national television one minute or knocking stakes in or driving a lorry the next.

Did you have to learn French for Grand Cirque de Noël? I was taught French at school. Our teacher was the headmaster, whose wife was from Brittany. I was the dunce of the class and only scraped through. Sadly, he died but I would have loved to say to him, ‘Guess what I do for a month every winter? I stand in front of 2,500 French people talking French!’. He’d have laughed his head off. He’d have loved it. 

Tell us how Audacious Mr Astley came about? In 1973/74 at the end of that first season there were no Christmas circuses. It wasn’t practical with canvas tents in the winter. I thought I’d like to find out about circus. There were two books in Saffron Walden library: I Love You Honey But the Season’s Over by Connie Clausen and British Circus Life by Eleanor Smith. I read about Philip Astley starting circus in London. As time went on, I think it was 1986, and having an interest in the history of the circus and knowing roughly where it started, I researched and pinpointed the exact spot at Halfpenny Hatch. Astley chose a field where there was a busy footpath. The landowner charged a halfpenny for people to take a shortcut across his land and you paid at a little window in the fence or hatch. So this is the famous spot. It has lovely Georgian cottages on it now that were built in about 1820. 

Has the spot been marked now? I was pleased to identify it for people but there had never been a commemoration on the spot, hence on Easter Monday we unveiled a plaque, which the local residents paid for. They’re so interested in this piece of history related to where they live. I did the premiere of Audacious Mr Astley in Waterloo East Theatre a few yards away; it was smashing.

What form does the show take? With the 250th anniversary getting closer and closer, I thought I’d love to combine my circus knowledge with my acting – directing myself – and my writing skills, which I’ve developed over the years working with the press. A year or so ago, I started to make some notes, in the knowledge that I was not simply giving a lecture or illustrated talk but that I wanted to be Philip Astley and that this would be, not only a unique way to tell the story in the sense that someone will be standing there being him, but also I believe, I hope, with a unique insight.

Astley established various traditions; he wore a red coat, he toured his shows straight away, they went out to Bath and Bristol and he took the circus to Scotland, where I’ll be in a couple of weeks. He introduced it to Ireland and Europe. And he also established a tradition of tough mindedness and independence and overcoming the odds to make sure it happened.

How important has it been for traditional circus in the UK to mark this 250-year anniversary? It’s very important for all circus. It’s a great thing with Circus250 having tremendous individual supporters; Martin Burton of Zippos Circus is one. He’s got the horses and this year he’s reproduced The Courier, which happened in Georgian circuses, where someone stands across two horses with the other horses coming through. Also it’s had the backing of Dea Birkett. She’s the chair of the co-ordinating group and has originated some events of her own.

There is also Andrew Van Buren’s Philip Astley Project in Newcastle-under-Lyme. I love their line: “Philip Astley is Newcastle-under-Lyme’s Shakespeare.” And so he is. Look what he achieved; it’s not literature but he had a cultural impact, which has spread worldwide… . He called it Astley’s Amphitheatre of Equestrian Arts and took it to royal families everywhere. He promoted himself and it was famous throughout the 19th century; Dickens, Jane Austen, Thackeray wrote about it. William Blake lived in one of Astley’s houses and he must have sat there sketching the horses in the amphitheatre. Some people think circus started with contemporary circus 30 years ago, and don’t want animals, but Astley was a rider so horses were involved. He called it a ‘hippodrama’; a play with lots of horses.

Who created your costume? I carefully researched the costume and was very lucky and found a book on eBay The 15th King’s Hussars with uniforms from 1759, which was when his regiment was formed and when he joined. The costume was made by Farthingale Costumes, who make costumes for reenactors, such as The Sealed Knot. It’s the exact material, it’s the exact cut and tailoring; it’s precise.

How do feel about going to Edinburgh for the first time? It’s been a wonderful 12 months in lots and lots of ways. It’s been absolutely fantastic! And to have performed as him on the very spot on Easter Monday, the exact 250th anniversary, was a fabulous thing to be able to do. There’s another anniversary, mine and Mr Astley’s; my 70th birthday on 1 August and I’m presenting him as 70 years old. It’s perfect, absolutely brilliant; it’s such a happy coincidence.

Chris performs Audacious Mr Astley at the Pleasance Courtyard (venue 33) from 1-27 August 2018 during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Picture credits: Ashleigh Cadet; Pierre Gautier: David Davis

For Audacious Mr Astley tickets, click here

Chris’ website

Twitter: @Astley250 @circus250 @ThePleasance @edfringe @PhilipAstleypro

2018 seems to be a year of important circus anniversaries: 250 years since Philip Astley created the first circus ring in the UK, 40 years that Laszlo Simet has been performing on the high wire and Semaphore, 25 years of Cirque Eloize, and 20 years of Artcirq, the circus set up in Igloolik in the Arctic Circle to try to combat the high suicide rate among young people there.

To mark Artcirq’s anniversary, we have chosen this feature – by The Widow’s Liz Arratoon – from 2005. We first met the inspirational Guillaume Saladin at the after-party for Cirque Eloize’s show Nomade at the Barbican in London in 2003 and instantly became friends. Struck by his passion and commitment, I interviewed him – during a trip to Paris to see Nomade at the Folies Bergère – to learn about his plans, before he headed off to the frozen north. It was in the days of dictaphones, and just after we’d finished chatting for about an hour we noticed the tape had snapped! Drama! But Gui calmly said: “We’ll do it again.”

There cannot be many circus artists who would willingly give up the bright lights of showbusiness to spend a year living on an island in the Arctic Circle. But after touring with Cirque Eloize for the past three years and performing in its show, Nomade, almost 500 times, that is exactly what Guillaume Saladin is going to do. Seven years ago he set up a circus project in the tiny Inuit village of Igloolik. Saladin says: “It’s called Artcirq. I started it in June 1998, just before I started circus school, after two of my old friends committed suicide, to try to prevent further young people in Igloolik from doing the same. It had been like that for many years, a lot of suicides.” Since then the 32-year-old French Canadian has been back every year for up to three months at a time to teach his students more and to help them put on shows.

Now Saladin has been asked by the village to return to Igloolik to spend a year running the community centre, where the students train, and to provide workshops. He says: “In July, after my last Nomade show in Christchurch, New Zealand, I’ll move to Igloolik to a little hut lent to me by the missionary. I will schedule next year’s activity for ten artists that will end with the shooting of a movie I devised with the film-maker Marie-Helene Cousineau. With these ten we’ll create a solid base, but each week we’ll provide open workshops for the community and the kids will help me teach them. So we’re already giving back knowledge from local people to local people. For the Inuit people, by the Inuit people.”

It is Saladin’s unique upbringing that has led him to this point. Both his parents are anthropologists and his father spent almost 50 years working in the Arctic with the Inuit community as an expert in Inuit Shamanism. Although Saladin was born in Quebec City, he spent much of his childhood in Igloolik. He was baptised by its queen and given the Inuit name of Ittuksardjuat. That name relates him to a family with whom he stays whenever he goes back, so he feels very strongly that he is part of the community.

“I was raised in Igloolik and spent all my summers there until I was 15. Then I didn’t go again until I was 24. My father continued to go there to conduct his research. I started out training to be a sociologist and I decided to finish my Sociology degree there with Isuma Productions who were shooting the film, Atanarjuat, The Fast Runner. I realised then that there was a dark side to the reality to life there that I never saw when I was a kid. Kids are lost in the generational gap. There is a loss of meaning in their lives. The elders still have the old knowledge but the kids are disconnected. There are so many images coming at them from the TV, but it has no meaning for them. There are no local role models. That’s why Isuma are trying to create Inuit stars with their movies. Artcirq is trying to do the same thing at ground level. We’re not that big.”

As well as circus skills, such as juggling, acrobatics, Inuit straps, unicycling and trapeze, the kids also have a chance to learn such things as lighting, set building, costume, dance, theatre, acting, writing and video-making. It is intended to give them career opportunities and a purpose in life. Their job prospects otherwise are limited to becoming cashiers or sewage truck drivers. Saladin has a network of about 15 potential trainers and is looking forward to working with an old friend from circus school.

“Janju Bonzon will be helping me. He’s a teeter board and BMX specialist and has been working with Circus Zip Zap in South Africa. As soon as he’s finished there he’ll join me in the Arctic. He’ll be in the movie as well. I’m also going to bring other circus people to provide speciality workshops. I’ll be there the whole time, the other artists will come to bring specific training. The end of the movie will be the beginning of the show that we want to present to other local communities. It will be a full-length movie about a year in the life of two young kids from a remote community close to Igloolik, who do stupid things, and one is caught by the police. He has to do social work at the community hall and gets in touch with the circus group.”

Early on, Saladin’s project began to address the problem of a rising number of suicides in Igloolik that local residents had debated for years. Before Artcirq there were an average of four or five suicides every year but, dramatically, 12 months after it started, they were able to celebrate a suicide-free year. But it remains a bleak place for kids. The island has only 1,200 inhabitants and is surrounded by ice for eight months of the year with temperatures falling to –60 degrees C in January, when there is no sun.

“It can be brutal. It’s never banal, never flat; life is either very high, beautiful, powerful, very strong, then suddenly, very dark, deep, violent, with a loss of meaning. Kids there need to find themselves as teenagers, find out who they are. Traditionally there, men were hunters, women were mothers. That’s still the same in Igloolik, but not many people are hunters anymore. Lots are just like teenagers anywhere. They have lots of energy, they listen to hip-hop, rap, rock ’n’ roll, they always ask: “Yo, what’s up?” And the answer is always: “Not much.” And it’s that ‘not much’ that causes the problems. They are stuck on an island, stuck in a village, everywhere is a dead end, every street, and it’s flat, flat, flat. Just gravel and tundra. For eight months a year, it’s all white and for four, it’s summertime. Then there is an explosion of life. Everyone breathes again. In winter people stay inside. The kids have school until they are 16 and then are free to do whatever they want. Everyone is an artist inside and trying to express themselves, sometimes this will be by drugs, alcohol or sports. We’re trying to bring back another way of expression. Another possibility.”

At present, Saladin explains, the young people have three ways to escape. “Igloolik has two little hills; one way is the airport, then the village and the other is the cemetery. They can look out and see two exits. One way out is when you die and another is if you leave the island and don’t come back. Education is free, so it’s possible to leave the country. They go and study in the white world. It’s not connected to them, but it’s a possibility. Another possibility is if you commit a crime and kill someone, you will go to jail down south, so it’s a way to leave. Another way to leave is if you shoot yourself. Or you stay home in your own environment and do things that make sense of your life, and try to mix where you come from with where you want to go and find a meaningful job. We’re trying to provide meaningful expression that could be transformed into meaningful careers.”

Sadly, even though the suicide rate in Igloolik has been reduced by 80 per cent, there are still deaths among the young people. Last year the elder sister of one of Saladin’s 12-year-old students hanged herself despite being clever at school and apparently having a bright future. “She was 14. We don’t know exactly why she did it. I arrived three or four days afterwards and we worked with her sister for a month. We did a 45-minute show last summer that we presented ten times to the community. And for the last show she juggled with us. She’d come a long way. Inside she was always sad, but she stayed with us because it brought her joy and happiness. But at the same time she was not full of life. She had to work, work, work. It was meaningful for her to show her father how she could juggle. She did that, her family was there and they were all crying.”

Saladin first became involved in circus while he was studying for his Masters degree in sociology. A friend suggested he join her at a circus class and he loved it so much that he decided to give up his studies and enrol at Montreal’s National Circus School, where he met Karine Delzors. They became performing partners and specialised in hand-to-hand balancing. Delzors is also involved In Artcirq, as are others from the Nomade cast. Bartek Soroczyński, one of the clowns, is another of the artists who has visited Igloolik on several occasions to run workshops for the kids and help with the shows. Acrobatics, juggling, unicycling, hand-to-hand have all featured in the productions, which always have a local theme and feel. The shows are filmed by the students, some of the activity taking place in igloos or out on the ice pack.

He and Delzors have now been performing together for seven years. ”We were taught by Alexandre Arnoutov, who comes from a famous Russian circus family. He’s in his sixties now and is still doing hand-to-hand with his wife. The other two men who have influenced Karine and me a lot, and therefore Artcirq as well, are Daniele Finzi Pasca, our artistic director in Nomade, and Krzysztof Soroczyński, Bartek’s father, our head trainer at Cirque Eloize. He has a lot of knowledge about different techniques. So, those three men have been very important to us.”

In Nomade, Saladin displays his own wide-ranging talents. Due to his stature and strength he forms the base of a four-man column, he sings, plays the trombone, juggles and performs acrobatics. But it is his stunning hand-to-hand display, performed with Delzors under a fine mist of water, that provides the show’s finale. Despite losing one of the key members of its troupe, Cirque Eloize is committed to supporting Artcirq. It has sold red clown noses at all performances of Nomade to raise funds for the project, which has always been run on a shoestring. “They are also providing training space in Montreal, their own circus equipment that they no longer need and they are buying specific things for us, like juggling clubs. They are a great partner. They are sensitive. Krzysztof can also come to Igoolik to lead a workshop if we need him.”

Saladin has many hopes and dreams for the future of his project. “One is working with the Inuit trying to bridge the cultures, and the other is to create a show with Cirque Eloize one day. Karine is part of Artcirq and she’s staying with Eloize, so I’m sure they’ll propose her for it. Daniele will also be involved. If the timing is right, everyone is in place.”

His altruism puts most people to shame but he sees Artcirq as a lifelong project and appears to carry his responsibilities lightly. “It’s a promise I made myself when I was a kid and I’m just following that. My Inuit name means ‘the little old man who will grow’. This man, Ittuksardjuat, was a powerful Inuit leader in the 1930s, a great chief. Inuits say that through the names they’re passing the knowledge also, so the one called Ittuksardjuat will be a little like him. If my name was not Ittuksardjuat I’m sure my life would have been different. I feel connected to him. I feel I’m going back for me also. To save my life, to make sense of it because when I was a kid I used to live there. I was baptised with an Inuit name which joins me to their culture. I can’t say I’m not part of it. I’m just trying to mix everything that I am inside and use it to communicate and to share. If you don’t realise someday that sharing is the best way to live a happy life and that you can’t just live for yourself, you’ll feel sad at the end and alone. That’s my motivation; to be happy.”

Saladin already has an invitation from a festival in Salzburg for the Inuit troupe to perform there if they ever go to Europe. The Inuit Cultural Centre in Paris is also open to help them in any way. “There are many places we can go. This is one dream, to set up a tour, then to perform somewhere else. My mother is also involved with aboriginals in Amazonian Peru and when I was there I was surprised to see similarities between the two cultures. That would be a nice exchange. What one has lost can be relearnt from the other. But those are my dreams and I don’t want to impose them. It’s their own destiny. It’s for them to express and direct.”

Saladin is passionate about Artcirq and determined to preserve its heritage. He stresses: “It’s important to combine the circus skills with traditional dance and music. Last summer we recreated an old legend in a month. It made me realise how willing the kids were and how good they are. We’re trying to find the roots of circus in Inuit culture. Through that we’re trying to bring back meaning and not lose everything from the past. If you want to run forwards you need to know where you’re coming from. Our goal is continuity. Artcirq is not a little fire that will burn for a month and then go out.”

Artcirq’s website. To make a donation to the company contact Guillaume Saladin at [email protected]

Twitter: @isumaTV

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We’ll be catching up again with Gui in the next few weeks and posting an interview to further mark Artcirq’s 20th anniversary.