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Variety is the Spice of Life
Paul Zenon
First Published in the Sunday
Express
Magician and comedian Paul Zenon believes that the end is nigh for
television as we know it. Despite making regular TV appearances himself, he
believes that reality shows are turning us off the box and, far from the lack of
traditional entertainment shows on the box sounding the death knell for variety,
audiences are now queuing round the block to see the kind of live acts that used
to have us rolling in the aisles.
"I'm grateful that TV work has helped pay the mortgage over the years, but you
can't beat being part of an audience in a good old-fashioned live show. I've
just returned from Edinburgh Festival and, despite there being over two thousand
shows of every kind to choose from, punters were queuing for two hours for
standing-room to see a roller-skating acrobatic act, grandma-rap artiste Ida
Barr leading an unforgettable 'urban' rendition of 'Underneath the Arches', and
Norwegian rubber-man Captain Frodo squeezing his entire body through a tennis
racquet. Certainly not something you're likely to see in the talent-free zone
that today's TV has become.
These latter-day variety stars feature in a show called 'La Clique', a sexy
late-night circus burlesque spectacle reminiscent of something you might have
seen in the Moulin Rouge a hundred years ago. The show is housed in the Famous
Spiegeltent, one of several portable wood and glass edifices adorned with
engraved mirrors, polished parquet flooring and billowing big top roofs -
imagine a covered fairground carousel with performers rather than horses.
Originating in Germany in the 1920s, they've been touring and exhibiting
speciality acts ever since, playing everywhere from Edinburgh to Brighton via
Adelaide and New York, where La Clique's sister show 'Absinthe' is currently
playing to packed houses. The dozen or so performers will be heading to join the
Spiegeltent in Melbourne in October for a three-month run, with the exception of
a few - myself included - who will pitch up and perform a few guest spots there
and in Sydney and Auckland next spring. Most of the acts perform in the centre
of the tent on a podium 6 feet in diameter, mere inches from the nearest
audience members' faces - more than exciting when a misplaced roller skate would
most certainly spell A&E for performer and spectator alike. As Captain Frodo
says while wrapping both legs around his neck, his posterior perched
precariously on the top of a tower of tin cans, "It's amazing what people can
do."
Of course, television never could capture the anticipation, the laughs, the
astonishment and the joie de vivre of a show like this - obviously you need to
actually be there to appreciate the atmosphere and feel a part of the happening
- and it gave up trying in the late 80's when performance-based shows such as
Seaside Special and Sunday Night at the London Palladium were consigned to the
'naff' skip, variety being referred to since behind closed doors as 'the V
word'.
The biggest laugh of all this season was that, among the hundreds of
disappointed punters vainly hoping to be squeezed into one of La Clique's shows
(it has sold out every single performance for the three years that it's been
running), were several determined bigwigs from a major TV channel who tried to
use their status to bypass the queue. "Sorry, we're still full" was the response
of Spiegeltent impresario David Bates. "We don't need the publicity, thanks."
Strangely, rather than refusing to die in the 80's, a whole new generation of
extraordinary performers has emerged to perform in the 21st Century - some from
traditional or 'new wave' circuses, some from the street, some from the hip and
happening burlesque clubs which have blossomed in recent times, and many from
the same comedy club circuit where big name acts such as Lee Evans and Harry
Hill cut their teeth, they too having their roots very much in the Music Hall
tradition.
Whatever inspired these people to practice and perfect turns that would have
made even our great-great grandparents feel largely at home in a 2006 audience,
it certainly wasn't the promise of conventional stardom; most novelty acts
perform for 3 to 10 minutes and take years to perfect, contrasting sharply with
the chew 'em up and spit 'em out high-volume appetite of television these days
where the accolade of 'celebrity' seems largely reserved for those not
over-burdened with talent; most these days being famous simply for being famous,
and then only fleetingly. Of course there are exceptions in the TV reality pool;
Pop Idol, X-Factor and the like have their roots in shows such as Opportunity
Knocks and New Faces and stand out in that, despite the sniping of the
egocentric 'judges', the contestants do actually need to have discernible
skills. While TV nowadays seems to focus ever more on personal conflict, there's
an undeniable and deeply unfashionable feel-good factor associated with these
variety turns and their shows and an endearing aspect of their world is the
overwhelming sense of camaraderie and the support offered by the acts and crew
to one-another, despite the obvious differences of specialisation, age and
nationality. There's a mutual respect and it's the norm to see an octogenarian
pickpocket from Blackpool helping a teenage Ukranian trapeze artiste with their
act backstage - other than the freakshow comparison, a greater contrast with Big
Brother would be hard to imagine.
And thank goodness these people do what they do - without them there would be no
Stomp, no Tap Dogs, no Blue Man Group and no Cirque De Soleil pulling in the
crowds in theatreland. The latter company, incidentally, now has five permanent
shows in Las Vegas and several touring ones worldwide employing tens of
thousands of people, and reputedly has thirty-odd full-time talent scouts on the
books - shove that up your scheduling.
Deprived of good old-fashioned entertainment on the box, it's little wonder that
the public are hungry for a taste of nostalgia with a new-wave twist; the
largely-hidden corporate market is now a massive employer of entertainers, the
cruise ship market has almost shed it's blue-rinse image and is bigger than
ever, and arts festivals worldwide provide appreciative audiences with a little
romantic escapism coupled with a good laugh. If you really want to watch
ordinary people doing ordinary things in everyday surroundings, then turn off
the telly and go and sit in a bus shelter. Me? I'm going to run away with the
circus."
© Paul Zenon, September 2006. First published in the Sunday Express