Circus 1903 at Hammersmith Apollo

“This isn’t the theatre, this is the circus – there are no rules!”

In an unusual, persistently icy December, where every other day freezes to a strike-induced halt, Circus 1903’s opening show strikes the Apollo hot. 

Decked out with twinkling Christmas decorations, the venue’s bustling atmosphere is the epitome of festive family cheer, marred only by a pitiable £8 Buck’s Fizz, bemusingly served in a plastic measuring jug. Despite the £1 donated to environmental charities, the Apollo’s attempt at edgy eco-consciousness is lacklustre. Entering the hall, the buzz is sustained by wandering ringmaster Willy Whipsnade (the ebullient David Williamson), whose jaunty bowler hat and smooth-as-butter American accent is our trusty time portal to the golden age of circus. 

There is no thread linking the acts, but viewers are promised “stripped-back talent” that conjures the same wonder a small-town audience would have experienced a century ago on Circus Day, while thankfully omitting the controversial elements of live animal entertainment and a human freak show. The well-oiled troupe springs into action with a turn from the acrobatic Daring Desafios, before cranking up adrenaline with a toe-clenching teeterboard act, pulled off triumphantly. Gasps are audible throughout. 

The pacing of the acts is mostly effective: daredevil dives calm to the elegant “ballet of the bicycle”; the Elastic Dislocationist extends audience eyebrows before they are hypnotised by the sparkling swirl of the aerial Lyra, Lucky Moon. Whilst the emphasis is on individual skill, the ensemble numbers could have been embellished, particularly at climaxes.

Whipsnade injects healthy cynicism into his practical audience jokes, perhaps toned up for a politically and economically tired Britain. He is such a natural that one feels one’s toes uncurl from a predisposition to cringe at such heavy audience participation, and the hall rings with unabashed, raucous laughter. 

Whilst all ages are delighted, the kids are centre-stage here. “Life is like the circus,” the ringmaster assures seven-year-old Chloe with a wink, and, as in life, things go wrong – sometimes repeatedly. The cheeky juggler drops one too many batons, and the grand finale of the never-tried-on-stage-before Icarian Acrobatics doesn’t quite come off, but the crowd are so charmed by this point that the slightly less-than-perfect acts make the audience roar harder, appreciative of the interminable prowess and bravery of the global troupe. 

Evan Jolly’s score is thrilling, and would have been animated magnificently by a live band (which the programme teases accompanied the show in actual 1903). There are hints of the antiquated circus however, as the pretty ballerina’s role is mainly confined to appreciating the men. Nevertheless, the main 21^st century modification of puppet elephants Queenie and Peanut is irresistible, particularly when baby Peanut doesn’t always stick to the script.  

In the relentlessly digital age of Avatar Two and the metaverse, the immediacy of Circus 1903 feels zesty and transportive. The promise of remarkable people doing extraordinary things is more than fulfilled, and the audience leave the Apollo fizzing with warmth, thankfully provided more by the performers than the cup of Buck’s.  

Ellen Wilkinson

Circus 1903 is at Hammersmith Apollo from 15^th December until 30^th December 2022. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Watch a trailer for the show here: