Ockham’s Razor’s production of Thomas Hardy’s canon sheds light on British new circus

What is new about new circus? This question is worthy asking when London, the birthplace of modern circus in the late 18th century, witnesses its own declination of circus art for decades. Are Cirque du Soleil and De La Guarda new? Hardly. They are definitely more glamorous and exotic, but they contribute little to the UK’s circus community, which has searched for its own identity for quite a while. Although it seems still quite impossible to get an absolute answer, Ockham’s Razor pioneers to explore. Directed by Alex Harvey and Charlotte Mooney, this production of Tess, with a performing ensemble of seven, denotes infinite potential of how new circus may find its own way. It is a production where circus ignites its chemistry with dance, physical theatre, devising theatre and of course, Thomas Hardy. In this production, many of the “traditional” spectacles of circus are hidden, but instead, seamlessly incorporated into the tragic story of Tess Durbeyfield, an innocent girl and noble-minded soul. It feasts our eyes as well as our hearts.

Tess is a story full of restless motion where people are always on the move from one place to another. This dynamism has been frequently reflected in the production, as the ensemble manoeuvres wooden planks aloft to represent symbolic pathways for the characters’ journeys. Such restlessness not only predicts Tess’s destiny, but also showcases exceptional acrobatic prowess and physical vigour of the cast. Lila Naruse embodies a pure, innocent Tess faithful to Hardy’s original story. A notable instance is her ethereal and sublime Spanish web to illustrate Tess’s hanging – a scene not described in the book, but beautifully incorporates the poignant moments in Stonehenge. As Naruse ascends, the background projection presents a serene picture full of starlight, the natural world’s solemn, and timeless presence. This scene does capture the quality of tranquillity of the story, appearing as a stark contrast to its earlier restlessness and turmoil of Tess’s life, symbolising Tess’s rising up soul as unblemished.

Besides this “physical Tess”, the production also arranges a “narrator Tess” (Macadie Amoroso), although it feels slight against the rule of “mime” (as part of MimeLondon 2024). By providing the audience with a clear storyline, Amoroso also serves as a “chorus” both within and outside the narrative. She sometimes joins the ensemble, but most of the time, she addresses us directly, providing a perspective of empathy. Amoroso’s powerful yet trembling voice perfectly complements Tess’s inner fierceness, challenging her destiny and the system’s injustices, adding another dimension to Naruse’s portrayal of Tess as vulnerable, and self-sacrificing.

Joshua Frazer plays the role of Alec D’Urberville, the wealthy yet uneducated playboy who actually has no noble lineage. Frazer distinguishes himself through his adept handling of a giant, glittering golden hula-hoop, showing extraordinary acrobatic techniques with grace, agility and flexibility. He seamlessly integrates dance and acrobatics, showcasing what he can do with the hula-hoop the same way as Alec showcases his wealth and overwhelming supremacy over Tess. This Hula-hoop gradually traps Naruse’s Tess in the middle, indicating that Tess has no choice but become an entrapped bird of him.

Nat Whittingham delivers a compelling portrayal of Angel Clare, bewitching us with his solo dance when Angel has heard of Tess’s past, capturing Angel’s shock, disbelief, disappointment and aloofness. Lauren Jamieson (Marian/Joan Durbeyfield), Victoria Skillen(John Durbeyfield/Retty), and Leah Wallings (Izz) present an incredible trio of ensemble showing no inferior to men in terms of energy and stamina. As the dairymaids, they mark a strong bond of sisterhood and unwavering loyalty to Tess. They also infuse the performance with moments of laughter and humour, such as the scene of squeezing milk, where the cows are represented by big, empty brown woven bags. In the scene of crossing river and wooing Tess, a girl gives Tess a sudden kiss because Angel kisses her shortly before. 

Nathan Johnson does a brilliant job by choreographing grand scenes such as the domestic life in the Durbeyfield family, the fighting scene at the Fowl Farm, and the last elopement of Tess and Angel. The production also presents a palpable sense of spontaneous devising other than a pre-cook, fixated conceptual agenda. The ensemble’s synergy is evident as they assist each other putting on clothes (hanging onstage as ropes) and assembling stage set with these Lego-like wood planks. The set design remains minimalist yet poetic, with a large fence positioned at the stage’s upper right corner serving multiple purposes, from the ensemble’s climbing up and down, to the climactic representation of Tess’s gallows.

The performance also features scenes that are profoundly emotional and seamlessly integrated with skilful acrobatics. For example, following Angel’s jilt of Tess, the ensemble quickly assembles a wooden balance beam that sways from side to side. Naruse steps onto it, symbolising Tess’s struggle to find balance in her life—as a jilted wife, the eldest Durbeyfield daughter, and the object of Alec’s lust. Later, Naruse walks bent over in slow motion, while the ensemble places the wooden planks on her back, piece by piece…until she burdens all the wooden planks that becomes her dire situation: Angel’s betrayal, her own shattered heart, father’s death, and the Durbeyfield family’s financial reality. Eventually, the weight becomes overwhelming, and the wooden planks collapse. Naruse falls onto the ground.  In this moment, Tess is left with no other option but resign to her fate, reluctantly accepting Alec for a second time in her life.

Tess is a production of “ambition, resilience, bravery, struggle and determination”, quoted here by producer Alison King. It has denoted a pathway how and where new circus can strive and thrive. Yet, there’s room for more profound exploration. I envision a Tess with a more pronounced feminist ethos, one that could not only put circus into a theatre context, but also could transform the theatre into a space ripe for provocation and offence. For instance, the scene of Tess stabbing Alec feels too haste, without demonstrating Tess’s internal struggle and controversy. It would be great if Naruse and Amoroso could collaborate a duo to present Tess in a more complex light: vocally as a figure of interrogation and defiance, and physically as one of emotional depth and vulnerability. 

Tess emerges as a pioneering endeavour attempting to redefine the boundaries of new circus, blending it with literary canon, dance and physical theatre by paying homage to Thomas Hardy. While it may not be flawless, it is indispensable in the history of British new circus, and it paves the way for infinite future potentiality with more diverse theatrical landscape.