In trying to categorise Cantina, the most appropriate word would seem to be "circus" – we are, after all, watching acrobats, contortionists and magicians inside a tent. But this is certainly not the kind of high-flying trapeze acts under the Big Top, festooned in sequins and feathers which that word might conjure up, much less the whimsical fantasia and bizarre costuming of Cirque du Soleil. This is far more intimate, closer in style and mood to something like vintage burlesque without the striptease (sort of) or smokey cabaret sans the singing (kinda), with a vaudevillian twist (after a fashion). Chamber Circus, perhaps?
But if by that you are led to think of something low-key and light on impact, you'd be very much mistaken. What Cantina may sacrifice in terms of scale and spectacle, it redoubles its effect by way of atmosphere, surprise, and an incredible degree of precision.
When you enter the Famous Spiegeltent to see this show, the world the performers create inhabits the space totally, merging with it, as though cut from the same vintage velvet cloth, constructed of the same timbers from when it was first built in 1920. Appearing to the music of a tinny ukulele, a hand-cranked organ, the tinkle of a creaky pianola and the hiss and pop of scratched old gramophone records, these performers in their brown pinstriped trousers and frilly bloomers seem to have stepped right out of the early 20th Century. Suffused with the same bohemian sensibility as the tent they perform in, an old world touch of class with more than a few carefully cultivated smudges of tawdriness adds some grit to its attractive patina.
One shouldn't really say too much about the acts in question, since much of the joy of this show is in the surprise and even shock of the unexpected as it unfolds before you, often in all of an instant, or sometimes by subverting the vinegar tease of anticipation. What must be said, however, is that this small handful of a mere half dozen performers enacts feats that are no less thrilling or death-defying for taking place on such a small stage.
On the contrary, it is in no small part because these acrobatics are presented in such a tight space that they are so captivating. Done almost completely in the round on a narrow, elevated thrust stage only a few meters across with their audience crammed right up to its very edge, soon bodies come whirling past within inches of the front row's faces, skidding right up to the footlights and violently crashing down onto the boards.
The sense of proximity to danger, especially if sitting up the front, is quite palpable indeed, for while the show may not rely on the altitude of traditional high-wire antics, it more than makes up for it with its speed and wince-inducing precision, whirling bodies seeming to kiss the floor as they swoop past, catching and tossing each other with alarmingly small margins for error, or in halting a twenty foot drop face-first into the stage with barely inches to spare. I have seen some very impressive up-close acrobatics before, even in this very tent, yet the virtuosity with which these performers do the unexpected is astonishing. The way these physical virtuosos flirt within what seems a hair's breadth of crippling mishap was at times quite literally breathtaking, the involuntary gasps of fear and titters of disbelief constantly breaking out amongst the tight-packed crowd around me drowning out my own sharp intakes.
For some, however, the acrobatics may not be the only thing in Cantina to make the pulse quicken. Although not grossly sexualised nor overtly sleazy, the piece certainly has an undercurrent of the kinky, a flavour of the perverse and a frisson of the taboo. The first time a pair of high heels appear they are employed in a jaw-clenchingly dangerous stunt, but later reappear in a context that will either make you grind your teeth or, if it happens to be your persuasion, perhaps rather excite you. Likewise, two performers roughly shove each other around in a domineering fashion that could certainly be mined for subtext, while elsewhere the cheerfully bubbly, squeaky flapper's contortionist routine has a macabre implication of broken joints, and a sleight-of-hand magic act makes far more than just his magic ball disappear. Undercurrents of sadomasochism and faintly Weimar-style decadence are easy to pick up but are not obtrusive and, unless one is particularly thin-skinned about such things, may be enjoyed or ignored as per your own predilections.
Feats of astonishing agility, strength, flexibility and above all razor-keen teamwork are at the heart of this resoundingly entertaining show and its thrilling progression of often ingenious tricks and stunts. Beautifully paced, always unexpected, sexy, fun, and frightening, Cantina is a bravura showcase of Australian-based talent and sure to be a highlight of the Sydney Festival.
Strut & Fret Production House
Cantina
Part of the 2013 Sydney Festival
Co-directed by Scott Maidment and Chelsea McGuffin
Venue: The Famous Spiegeltent, Honda Festival Garden, Hyde Park
Dates: January 8 – 27, 2013
Tickets: $65 – $60
Bookings: Ticketmaster 1300 723 038
