Images used with kind permission of Gail Foster
For me it’s not enough to say something is “weird.” To start, is it a “good” weird or a “bad” weird? If the opposite of weird is normal, and normal considered boring, then weird must surely entertain. It’s subjective; depends where you sit on the border of what constitutes an acceptable limit of weirdness. When it goes beyond this level maybe it fails to entertain you, by being so weird you cannot process any logic or reason within it, ergo “bad” weird, in your opinion.
Yet illogical or plain nonsensical has always been a backbone of humour. Many strive to extend said border, for if Spike Milligan or Monty Python pushed the limits in surrealism, Miguel de Cervantes did too, 350 years beforehand. I’d suggest there’s something very Don Quixote about Los Galindos’ Udel.
Humour at its most basic level is visual, a baby will find perpetual peek-a-boo hilarious. Similarly, visual humour relies on those classic formulas; falling over, sudden disappearance and reappearance and dumbfounded surprise. Akin to silent movies, voices are minimal and slapstick in Los Galindos is bountiful, and executed with distinction. But it is weird.
See, I like weird, strive for weirdness, savour weird things, chat to sane people hopefully making me appear weirder. Perhaps I set the barrier of what constitutes too weird high. If you agree, you will love this show. If you’ve wandered past the Green and seen a Mongolian yurt and thought, well how is a circus act supposed to be staged in there, without spoilers I’ll enlighten; that’s part of the joke.
If you’re thinking where does this article stop being a thought on the word weird, and become a review for this fantastically curious show, then you’re already putting barriers at your chosen level. For I don’t want to ruin the surprise, for the show continues through to Monday, but it left me wondering at what point the show actually started. Could be as soon as everyone was seated, even when we were kindly ushered in, perhaps just outside the door. Maybe all walking past, contemplating said notion, well how is a circus act supposed to be staged in there, have already become the audience of sorts.
It’s a prime example of what I’m getting at, the act is the production, the production is an act, the props are parts of the stage and yurt, and the yurt, stage, and possibly the audience too are the props. The costumes and overall impression are modest, yet charming. The acrobatics are deliberately played down like Tommy Cooper’s magic, but are exceptionally skilful.
Wrapped in essence of a humbled, poor circus family, who overdramatically welcome you, their efforts to make you comfortable and enjoy their show is the clowning element, perhaps it’s only narrative. The hazard of these disguised clowns executing daredevil circus stunts within inches of your face is worrying, and part of its attraction which will leave you in awe.
If you’re the sort expecting a traditional request, “I need a volunteer from the audience,” disregard your expectations. This is a unique and original take on circus noir, it’s clowning and acrobatics combined in a manner leaving you spellbound and pondering what exactly just happened, and why.
There was a point in the act, without giving the game away, where the doors blew open, and in viewing a glance outside there was a gentle reminder you were sitting on the Green in Devizes, and not immersed in a scene from Don Quixote staged by amateurs with a homemade theatre, in some remote mountainous village north of Barcelona.
It’s fantastically abridged circus, something radical moulded into a Mediterranean era of yore, and honestly, something you’ve not see in Devizes before, or probably ever will again, even if you consider Devizes is weird!
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