Slava's Snow Show
I have just spent two days with my sister in Melbourne. I love Melbourne; I love the range of ethnic food that is available. I love the city, and the range of entertainment available. It was great spending time with my sister and it was grand experiencing Melbourne again.
Last night (when I wrote this) I went to Slava’s snow show. It is publicised as what Circe de Sole is to circus, so this is to clowning. And it was great. The theatre was old, small (although it had the three layers of seats, but the stage was small) and covered in paper snow from previous shows. It was fun sitting there watching little flurries of snow erupting from the seats in front as people threw it on those around them, and listening to the little girl behind us giggling with delight as she threw it on her grandmother, and once on us (we exacted our revenge, twice, to her squeals of laugher). And then the show began. The costumes, the facial expressions, the plot and script (well what else would you call it) were stunning. I was pulled in, engrossed, as we journeyed through so many emotions. I was sitting downstairs in the stalls, at the lip of the floors above, so to speak. Intermission began with us being buried under this vast sheet of cobwebs that had wrapped itself around the lead clown, (Slava I guess) and then was carried out over us. I was still wiping it off my bald head when intermission ended, which happened when the clowns came out one by one and clambered over us, sprayed water over us (one clown looked sadly on me and wiped my head dry). The show ended with 3 large balls (like earth balls) being rolled out in the audience, along with a number of smaller balls which we then spent the next 20 minutes flinging high up and occasionally into the top floor of seats, at the stage and back, with more snow gently falling on to us. What I enjoyed was seeing Slava sitting on the edge of that stage, having his photo taking, enjoying watching all these adults playing with these balls and having such fun.
What a great night. Worth every cent if you get the chance. That was clowning at its very best. Exploring issues like male female relationships, belonging, going too far with our fun. Grand!
Last night (when I wrote this) I went to Slava’s snow show. It is publicised as what Circe de Sole is to circus, so this is to clowning. And it was great. The theatre was old, small (although it had the three layers of seats, but the stage was small) and covered in paper snow from previous shows. It was fun sitting there watching little flurries of snow erupting from the seats in front as people threw it on those around them, and listening to the little girl behind us giggling with delight as she threw it on her grandmother, and once on us (we exacted our revenge, twice, to her squeals of laugher). And then the show began. The costumes, the facial expressions, the plot and script (well what else would you call it) were stunning. I was pulled in, engrossed, as we journeyed through so many emotions. I was sitting downstairs in the stalls, at the lip of the floors above, so to speak. Intermission began with us being buried under this vast sheet of cobwebs that had wrapped itself around the lead clown, (Slava I guess) and then was carried out over us. I was still wiping it off my bald head when intermission ended, which happened when the clowns came out one by one and clambered over us, sprayed water over us (one clown looked sadly on me and wiped my head dry). The show ended with 3 large balls (like earth balls) being rolled out in the audience, along with a number of smaller balls which we then spent the next 20 minutes flinging high up and occasionally into the top floor of seats, at the stage and back, with more snow gently falling on to us. What I enjoyed was seeing Slava sitting on the edge of that stage, having his photo taking, enjoying watching all these adults playing with these balls and having such fun.
What a great night. Worth every cent if you get the chance. That was clowning at its very best. Exploring issues like male female relationships, belonging, going too far with our fun. Grand!
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