Sabotage, 27th May
No Fit State, Bristol
Contemporary circus
It's going to be difficult to get across just how much this show meant to me for something I've only seen - will only see - one and a half times. Nevertheless, I will try.
Speaking generally, I often see performance-based stuff and want to give it a go. Acting, singing, even dance, obviously comedy, storytelling, spoken word - I've done all these things on stage in front of people because I've seen some people do it and gone "yeah alright, let's have a crack." It's not that I'm good at them, or think I can do better, but there's something about going to an open mic night or equivalent and seeing how people start from scratch that sort of gives me permission to do that.
Circus is not one of those things. I have no inclination to even try and spin a plate, let alone get on a trapeze. I tried to learn to juggle once. My mum put a stop to it eventually because the thud of the balls hitting the floor drove the entire house nuts. I am supremely uncoordinated and physically weak. The jump (or somersault) from nothing to anything is insurmountable for me, and that's fine. That's good, even. It makes every leap and twist something like a magic trick - I don't want to know how they do it. All that matters is that they can and they are.
That's a long preamble before we get to the specifics of Sabotage. As I say, I've seen it one and a half times. This was the full one; the half was when I went to Swansea to MC No Fit State's cabaret show, Village People. A few of the crew recognised me from then, despite me wearing significantly more clothes, which made me feel pretty good but is also just testament to what a welcoming bunch they are.
I don't have a brilliant memory; I'm writing this mostly based on notes made in the interval and directly afterwards. It's not really possible to spoil the show in the traditional sense as there isn't an obvious narrative. My interpretation was that it's a glimpse into a world elsewhere, maybe a village of people somewhere European, and seeing them come together or work alone in alternating scenes.
Every single sequence is some flavour of jaw-dropping. The lighting directs your focus around the tent at performers who enter and leave at varying velocities. It tends to be a solo or duo performance on e.g. aerial silks, a trapeze, something else entirely, followed by frenetic group activity that resets the stage in a way that's entertaining in its own right.
The music is live too, which brings me on to the other observation I had at the time: no one in that tent (I counted roughly 20 people who took to the stage at various points) had just one job. Even the lighting tech played at least two instruments and was acting as a human counterbalance for the aerialists, who also juggled, or rode a unicycle, or sang, or did the balancing for other aerialists.
And this is why this show - circus in general, I think - has carved out a place for itself inside me. It is a fierce celebration of what humans can do, yes, but it also says - loudly - that it is all made possible by the support we give each other. No one can fly forty feet in the air safely without someone at the other end of the rope, staying largely out of focus. No one can use a slackline like a three-inch-wide trampoline without a small army making sure there are crash mats in the right place. We look after each other. We trust each other. We propel each other to do incredible things. In this sense, Sabotage is ironically named.
