The Big Apple Circus, Redux

I’ve touted them before, and I’ll do it again. The Big Apple Circus is flat out fabulous. It’s intimate and the performers are devoted. This year there were no animals bigger or more exotic than horses, which were, to my taste, pretty boring. But, to judge by her face, Natalie felt otherwise.

The dogs, however, were another matter. The trainer looked like a filthier version of Dan Zanes, and when he was cavorting canineless amongst the general circus performers at the opening, I thought him perhaps deranged. And, in truth, he was, what with all the little mutts casually sidling about, climbing ladders, sliding under each other on doggy high-wires, dancing with each other and smooching, and so on.

And then there was the French guy on the trick bicycle, who, amongst other hijinx, popped a wheely, lost his front wheel, which wheeled in a circle, and then, while bantering continually with the audience, stayed in a wheely, retrieved the wheel, jacked himself up on the fork, and replaced the wheel, without the fork ever touching the ground. This is talent.

And there was much much more, good clowning, general glee, with faint echoes of Chaplin and Tati. Look em up and go see it.