Cirque Plume is the repository of the memory of those utopic and collective circus that originated in France in the early 1980s. The difference between them and other, more provocative, collectives is that Plume are just plain and simple generous, rarely denying themselves the chance to show their true sentiments...
Tempus Fugit? ("Time flies? ") is no exception to the rule.
Their firm self-belief is evident from the start: on stage, in front of us, huddled together for warmth, the artists offer up a devilish sarabande... Oil-drums, crates, fine veils, sculpted light, Plume makes its décor from anything and weaves anew the powerful images from its past repertory (such as their famous evocation of the violinist in the clouds as painted by Chagall). Pierre Kudlak, here fulfilling the role of a work-shirt clad ring-master, takes us back to the source and conducts the rhythms of his half-naive, half-mocking sketches. Some of the performers appear more hardened than others, starting with Mick Holsbeke, the great clown from North America. From a classic hat-trick he builds up a whole story with his exclamations that sound more like the wails of an abandoned seal. With the Cyr wheel, as imagined by Leonardo Da Vinci, Max isn’t so bad either. We have never seen so much offhandedness combined with total mastery. Time flies? It doesn’t seem to have much of a hold over the ever-generous Cirque Plume.