And the Little One Said...

Following on from my earlier post, this is a review for the second Fringe Festival show I attended last night. I left feeling a little unsure of the storylines that supposedly wound through the performance, but impressed with her agility and gymnastic abilities.

Enjoy.

There’s something twisted about The Candy Butchers’ And the Little One Said... , and it’s not just solo star Jess Love’s body. With cigarette smoking, spatters of blood and a severed foot in a rollerskate, this is not your average jovial circus act.

On entering the Rehearsal Room at the North Melbourne Town Hall, the show has already begun. Stationed at the entrance pushing fairy floss and spruiking, writer and international circus performer Love paints a clear picture of what’s to come. In her pink, frilly tutu, dishevelled hair and heavily smudged makeup, she personifies the blend of innocence and macabre that encapsulates this piece.

It is clear that Love is a seasoned performer. Encompassing roller-skating, tap dancing, skipping, glass walking, hula hooping and an acrobatic game of hopscotch, this truly is a one-woman circus, and Love manages to make each exploit look simple. She knows how to work the crowd, eliciting enthusiastic ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as she builds each stunt to its climax, and keeping them giggling in between with her comical slapstick act.

Artist Mark Ryden is noted as a strong influence, and his themes of surrealism and juxtaposition of the beautiful and disquieting are certainly evident. The show is powerfully mood-evoking, augmented by the eccentric soundtrack and eerie red lighting. Love’s dark humour and sinister giggles border between innocence and insanity: during one particular childish tantrum she has the unsettling air of a woman possessed.

At times the build up takes just a little too long, and anticipation teeters on the edge of impatience. The show wouldn’t suffer from a little less clowning and a little more illustration of her high-level circus skills. Because when she gets there, Love’s tricks certainly are physically impressive, proven by the audience’s open-mouthed captivation.

At just 45 minutes the show is brief, but if it’s the weird and wonderful you’re after, And the Little One Said… is the one to see.