I go to the Circus!

When I was writing a grant application for this trip I am sure one of the things I did not list on my research itinerary was a trip to the circus. But nonetheless, on my last night in Tours I found myself attending, with much of the famille Puissant, the circus.

A few nights before my departure Madame Puissant mentioned to me, perhaps apologetically, that the coming Tuesday she wanted to take the family to the circus. Of course, the family did not mean just her children and grandchildren, but “les étudiants” as well. I think she was not sure that I would really be that interested in attending or that it would be “below” me. However, I was intrigued as a cultural voyeur to see the French circus and I readily agreed.

I am sure that the last time I attended the circus I was around five. About the only thing I recall was that I desperately wanted a toy sword that one of the vendors walking the stairs dangled in front of me. What a violent materialist I was then. So, as a point of Franco-American comparison, I would not really have much to go on save for snippets of televised circus I had seen. And, as a self-appointed cultural commentator, I realize that there is such a danger in making simplistic generalizations anyway (about either French or American culture) that one can Socratically dissect into non-truths. Certainly, after studying French history and culture for nearly twenty years I do have some authority and I have tried not to make my brushstrokes too broad.

The night of the circus the adults and four of the grandchildren crammed into two cars and we made our way to the “fairgrounds,” a parking lot next to Tours’s municipal stadium. We arrived and saw the ubiquitous golden circus tent and a caravan of semi-tractor trailers behind it emblazoned with the name “Cirque Pinder” (check out their website: www.cirquepinder.com). As we walked to the “big top” two of the children, Elliot, 8, and Victoire, 4, whose parents could not attend, held onto my hands. As the “exotic” American I certainly held some status in their eyes though I also marveled at the amount of trust that small children can place so quickly in adults that they barely know. I guess despite what some of my students think I am not such an ogre after all.

Madame Puissant had already bought the tickets for us, some family package deal that was very reasonably priced. As we approached the tent entrance Cirque Pinder employees dressed in hussar’s uniforms, red with gold stripes, greeted us and acted as ushers to take us to our seats. The big top itself was a “one-ring” circus with wooden planked banks of seats surrounding the ring. Each bank had about twenty rows and I could not imagine that the tent itself could hold more than a couple of thousand. This night it was about half full and we were most of the way up toward the tent wall. It scarcely mattered as our view was great. Half of the crowd was under ten and one could certainly feel their excitement as more people milled in and music played on the speakers.

Circuses certainly have a long history, dating at least back to Rome if not before. The fairs of the Middle Ages had traveling companies that if were not exactly circuses, provided similar entertainments of acrobatics, juggling, and “exotic” animals. The Early Modern period saw infrastructural improvements that allowed easier travel for these performers and the rise of a middle class gave the proto-circuses an audience. By the 1800s, the circus we know developed in Western Europe and the U.S. As a result, the French have had a long circus tradition. France is best known now for their Cirque du Soleil, part of a larger movement known as the Cirque Nouveau, a circus that does not use animals but instead emphasizes human acrobatics and ballet-type story telling. Tonight’s circus was not Cirque Nouveau but the circus that most Americans would recognize: a ringmaster, the lion tamer, the clowns, acrobats, magicians, and the high-wire artists. Sorry, no mimes.

For a circus that was not particularly large (in terms of size or attendance) the Cirque Pinder put on quite a good show. The ringmaster was smooth and effortless in his delivery. All the performers were smartly dressed with a sense of flair. Trainers had groomed the performing animals little short of perfection. Between acts an army of helpers took apart and reassembled various apparatuses quietly and efficiently (with so many staff on hand I wondered how the Cirque could hope to turn even a slender profit). If I could make a guess, I would doubt that an American circus of similar size would pay such attention to detail. Of any of the performers, I would say that the “magicians” were clearly the best. Over the past years I have seen enough televised appearances of magicians and shows that reveal their “secrets” so there is not a lot new in terms of the basic magic act. However, even knowing what to look for I was dumbfounded for a few of their disappearing and reappearing acts and my applause for them was certainly genuine.

But then there is the sadness that is the circus. And this sadness is universal and knows no national boundaries…I just happened to be in France to view this one particular circus. Those less cynical may wish to read other, cheerier blogs. The saddest thing about most circuses is the treatment of the animals. I cannot imagine what a life it must be like for a 500-pound tiger to be in a small cage most of the day and then to come out at night in a larger cage and be poked and prodded and whipped into some demeaning activity all to the musical accompaniment of the instrumental version of Kenny Roger’s “Lady.” I kid you not. I am sure you can make up your own scenarios about the various other animals that appeared as well.

I also liked to watch the circus but not necessarily where I was supposed to be watching but instead I regarded the fringes, away from the center lights. Where can I start? Was it the fourth magician, dressed up like Michael Jackson, whose main task was to spin the various cages around but never was able to perform himself? Was it the women on the high wire who never actually went out on the wire but just brandished her arms like Vanna White as a Herve Villechaize look-a-like rode his Lilliputian bicycle back and forth fifty feet above the ground? Was it the slightly portly “acrobat” who had seen too many winters, a refugee of some 1980s Eastern European gymnastics factory who had been a great gymnast in his own right but never could quite perfect the triple twisting dismount from the rings (or whatever defining movement that was necessary to compete at the world-class level) hence dooming him to a circus career of one European city after another until his knees gave out forcing him into a new circus career of following the elephant with the poopscoop? Were their smiles really genuine?

Of course Vladu the gymnast could have similarly looked at me and pointed out my own shortcomings…if Hultquist had only been more assiduous in his own career he would be on his third book by now. And how could he give that three hundredth lecture on feudalism to a sleepy audience of indifferent freshmen?

But I save the best for last. The evening was over half over when into the ring pranced Anton Fischer and his “Tirolean” animal wagon. Fischer, a late forty-something combination of a dissolute Steve Martin and a manic Rod Stewart, danced and capered about the ring in his lederhosen, slapping his knees and the bottoms of his feet all the while grinning like there was no tomorrow. He was a great showman. Of course, he better have been one as his animal act was about as mundane as one could imagine. I actually took a video of this with my camera to verify I am not exaggerating-I may post at some point if I can solve some bandwidth issues. In his Tirolean wagon was a strange combination of animals that performed various tricks: a cat (don’t ask), a dog (don’t tell), a sheep (don’t go there), and a goat (please, Anton, for the love of God, stop). Of course, it was all very clean and family oriented, but seriously, does anyone really want to see a housecat poked and prodded into jumping through a hoop? And, having a cat stand atop a dog that is atop a goat that is atop a mule is not the most thrilling thing in the animal kingdom. Even some of the slower children in the audience realized that this was just filler until the next act and just applauded politely. Anton bounded off the stage, rooster in hand, to get ready for the next evening’s performance…