Review: Cirque Alfonse: Animal

Ever seen a farmer do a wheelie with a tractor? Cirque Alfonse’s Animal is grimy and domestic, more farmhands-gone-wild than Lion King, but although the props are humble (milk churns, wheelbarrows, that sort of thing), the stunts are anything but. Backed up by a set dressed in corrugated iron and a dynamic three-piece rock band, Cirque Alfonse’s five performers juggle a repertoire of stunts even better than they do a box of free-range eggs. It’s a wacky show, with a strong aesthetic in lieu of any narrative, but who needs narrative when you can watch a weirdly high stakes game of piggy in the middle with an enormous cowbell as the ball? 

The Quebecois family outfit, suitably attired in faded denim dungarees, flared chaps, and tiny tweed waistcoats, laugh at each other as often as they fling their partners sky-high. There is visible affection between the performers, and this looseness makes Animal a playful, punchy watch. Stunning teamwork (particularly in a duet between two contortionists) and absurd humour compensates for the odd lull in proceedings: a seesaw rubber chicken routine goes nowhere fast, and an interpretive knife dance about the grim reaper is a bit of a downer, though both skits encapsulate Cirque Alfonse’s kooky, bedtime-story-gone-wrong energy. An athletic final showdown with a mechanical bull brings feeding time to a close, triumphantly closing the barn doors on this family-friendly hour at the (deep breath) farmyard-circus-cabaret.