‘Circus 1903’ flies high on wit, whimsy and intimacy

This is a strange time for the art and spectacle of circus. Consider not only the demise of Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey, but note that on the very same day the beguiling, old-fashioned, richly theatrical production of “Circus 1903 — The Golden Age of Circus,” arrived at Chicago’s Oriental Theatre, that brazenly death-defying aerialist, Nik Wallenda, appeared on TV to announce that New York’s famed Big Apple Circus, which went bankrupt last year, will return in the fall, and will star the Wallenda Family, many members of which suffered profound injuries during a rehearsal of a pyramid act earlier this year.

As someone who has written often about finding “death-defying” acts both unappealing and unnecessary (a sentiment that has resulted in no lack of angry feedback), just the sight of giant foam mats for several of the acts on the Oriental stage buoyed my heart, and made the whole production instantly more fun-filled and absolutely no less magical or exciting. To be sure, a certain amount of danger still exists in this show, but at least there is the sense that attention is being paid. And that alone changes the aura of this circus for the better.

The conceit of “Circus 1903” is rooted in nostalgia for that period when the arrival of a traveling circus troupe in any given town or city was a cause for immense celebration — bringing more than a little touch of the exotic and thrilling to an audience that had yet to experience radio, television, movies, the Internet and all the other forms of 20th century entertainment. To be sure, the whole event would be injected with plenty of high-spirited hokum and bunkum, and that is the job of Ringmaster Willy Whipsnade, played to droll perfection here by David Williamson — a rangy figure of a man whose deliciously acerbic edge brings a touch of Mark Twain to the proceedings.

Directed by Neil Dorward and co-creative produced by Dorward and Simon Painter (the forces behind “The Illusionists,” the immensely successful magic show), “Circus 1903” is through-choreographed in the way of many contemporary Broadway musicals from “Once” to “Hamilton,” so that everything flows in a sort of subtle perpetual motion. The show opens as a team of roustabouts hammers tent pegs into the ground as trunks of costumes and all the rest of the circus team swirl around them. The Ringmaster then selects a tiny child from the audience (it just happened to be the 5-year-old son of Steppenwolf actor Tim Hopper) for some balloon and popcorn jokes. And then it’s on to the show which is set in motion by The Flying Fins, a trio of daredevil teeterboard acrobats who counter-jump and flip with the greatest of ease, and are followed by The Cycling Cyclone — German bicycle “dancer” Florian Blummel — whose lyrical feats on a two-wheeler all but turns a bicycle into speed skates.

The bravura highlight of the Sideshow section of “Circus 1903” features Senayet Assefa Amara, the aptly named “Elastic Dislocationist.” The body of this astonishingly beautiful Ethiopian-born contortionist is clearly not put together like those of the rest of us mere mortals, and her strength, grace and control are as mindbending as her back is flexible. She is followed “in the ring” by Lucky Moon (the exquisitely balletic Elena Gatilova), whose extraordinarily fast, complex yet lyrical moves in an aerial ballet performed with a hoop could not be more breathtakingly lovely.

It’s a hard act to follow, but those magisterial (and sadly endangered) creatures, the elephants, are fully up to the task, especially since they arrive in the form of all but living, breathing, life-size, personality-infused mother and son puppets created by Mervyn Millar (part of the original creative team for the National Theatre’s “War Horse”). They are brought to life by a team of six puppeteers, two of whom are on stilts, and if you do not fall in love with the happily independent-minded baby elephant “Peanut” you have a heart of steel.

Brothers Alejandro and Ricardo Rossi, the high-speed foot juggling acrobats from Italy, are terrific, too, and their perfect comeback following a single malfunction had the audience cheering. They also cheered for The Great Gaston (Francois Borie), the dazzlingly fleet, faster-than-the-speed-of-light juggler of silver clubs who even (briefly) had seven of the objects spinning high in the air. As for the nail-biting climactic act of the evening, it came via Los Lopez, a family trio of high-wire artists (Johan and Jonatan Lopez and Maria Jose Pontigo) who blithely danced and bicycled back and forth on the wire as if it were a paved street. (Though they work without a net, they do have a padded stage floor.)

The show’s vintage design by Todd Ivins (set) and Angela Aaron (costumes), is at once winningly authentic and ingenious. And Evan Jolly’s seamless score, richly evocative of the period, is at once old-fashioned and new-fangled — just like this enchanting show itself.