Fancy a kids’ cabaret?
What a great concept! Could I convince my own kids to come along? Not a chance.
To be fair, two are now fully fledged adults and the third is a teenager on the cusp. Gone are the whimsical Barnum days. National Circus graduation pieces are more their vibe these days. But perhaps I am a regular circus Wendy, still inclined to follow the circus off to Neverland, and I was curious to see what Leap Circus had cooked up, particularly as this was billed as the first kids’ cabaret of its kind.
There were other reasons to make the trek to Woolwich Works, somewhere I’d never actually been before. Adrian Berry is the new Artistic Director there, with years of circus programming behind him (and ahead!) and it is always good to catch up. I had also clocked that Acosta Danza’s creative hub is in the building next door, where they run classes. And then there was Lydia Harper, creator of Leap Circus, putting it all together. Lydia has such a director’s eye and vision, on top of all her experience as a performer herself. I first saw her way back at Jacksons Lane, before she joined Cirque du Soleil.
In the pre-kids days I knew the Docklands well, having lived there for a couple of years. Since then I’ve been over on the other side of London and it has been a right old trek. So hallelujah for the Elizabeth Line. A mere ten minutes or so after changing from the Northern Line and I was there.
Well, nearly.
As ever, I was running late, after a long, extended brunch with my Parkrun community after a morning volunteering, so I put on Revel Puck’s playlist on Spotify to get me legging it up the escalators at Woolwich and take the stress out. It certainly did the trick. I was laughing as I approached the building listening to 99 Luftballoons, only to look up and see the Punchdrunk building opposite, complete with a sinister character holding a red balloon. Very It.
Punchdrunk was my first immersive theatre experience. I went to Battersea Arts Centre for The Masque of the Red Death when I was pregnant and nearly fainted with fright as I donned the mask and cloak. I had gone because my niece was working on the set; ironically, she was over in the US at the time with Punchdrunk director Felix Barrett, taking The Drowned Man to Broadway. I could feel the goosebumps. Thank goodness it was broad daylight. The contrast with what I was about to see made me smile.
I had time to run to the bar and grab a drink. Was it appropriate to order wine at a kids’ cabaret? I opted for an alcohol-free beer, then spotted the line-up of circus mocktails. Brilliant touch.
And then came the first surprise: the cabaret was outside.
There was a tug of nostalgia seeing all those parents with young children. I do and I don’t miss that. Mostly, I was rather glad I could hover at the back and watch. And what I watched was a show that understood its audience brilliantly.
Lydia was our compere and she ruled the roost, setting the tone from the outset. The show knew its key audience was under ten, but never patronised them, while making sure the adults had plenty to enjoy too.
What better way to begin than with a Minion diving into aerial silks? Constanza Ruff, in full Minion mode, brought the slapstick immediately, accompanied by that upbeat, banana-crazy anthem. There were splits, bananas and plenty of visual silliness. The energy was up before we had barely begun.
Then Donald Craig appeared with Be Our Guest. What a voice. I’d started following him on Instagram when the cast list was announced, so I knew a little of his background as a musical theatre actor and singer, “the voice of Hong Kong Disneyland”. Live, though, it was something else. A resonating voice, charisma and a real ability to engage the audience. Before long everyone was singing along, and later dancing too. It was a fantastic way to welcome the kids into the world of cabaret.
And then came the cabaret twist - contortion with a tennis spin. I’d last seen something like this at La Clique, with a performer worming his way through a racket. Here Jo Foley came on like a pro, in sun visor, whites and neon pink socks and wristbands. She was blimming bendy and hilarious. A cheeky flash of skort that would delight a child’s sense of humour, but with just enough of a flirtatious nod to the adult world of cabaret to make the grown-ups laugh too.
How to turn spectacle into chaos? Hundreds of plastic balls. They were distributed through the crowd and the children were invited to lob them into the basket of their favourite performer. Brutal. Hilarious. Chaos ensued. I deliberately paid no attention to who won.
Ed Stephens then came out with some neat lassoing tricks, making it all look ridiculously easy. I know from experience that it isn’t. Years ago, when our engine broke down in St Lucia, I had to lasso our boat to a post on a pier in front of a crowd. It took me three goes. Back at Woolwich Works, Ed nailed it and I imagined that over the holidays a few skipping ropes would now end up knotted.
Lydia kept things moving with a trick she hadn’t done for over a decade, she told us. Should she do it? Roars of encouragement. Of course she did, and up in the air she spun in a dizzying neck spin.
Then, after warming up by threading through the crowd, Physical Fool Sophia Knox-Miller tumbled onto the stage at speed in an orange boiler suit. She persuaded the adults to make fools of themselves to the children’s enormous delight before carrying them off through the crowd, a banner billowing out behind her.
Finally came a seaside turn from Ania Giannattasio, wandering on in mask and flippers, complete with a neat beach towel trick, aerialist chalk deployed as suncream and some wonderful clowning before she took to the hoop. I will never forget that heel hang of joy, performed with a towelling turban on her head.
In neat continuity, Donald returned for Under the Sea, and suddenly a whole load of bubbles were released across the stage. The children chased them, danced around them and tried to catch them, and for a few minutes the entire space became a whirl of movement and delight. His presence with the children was a real joy; they just gravitated to him.
Then Ed returned for a showstopping juggling finale, complete with confetti cannon. He knows how to work a crowd, and by this point it was entirely his.
And just when you thought it was over, up popped an inflatable banana that seemed to dance its way along. An inspired final addition from producer Anna.
This is where the show really got me. It wasn’t simply that the acts were fantastic. It was the sheer variety, and the pleasure of having no idea what was coming next.
A singer. An airborne Minion (also on stilts). A contortionist. A juggler. A clown. An aerialist on hoop.
There is something refreshing about seeing cabaret stripped back to its most basic ingredients: a dynamic performer, a fantastic act, music, surprise, audience participation and the sheer pleasure of watching somebody do something extraordinary with their body.
And here, those ingredients were handed straight to the children. They weren’t simply spectators watching a show made for them. They were part of the cabaret. They shouted, sang, danced, threw balls, chased bubbles and decided who they liked best. The adults got to be silly too. Sometimes we all need to reconnect with our inner child.
Afterwards, one child summed the whole thing up in the vox pop rather better than I could:
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
I left, albeit sober, but not a little Punchdrunk.
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