Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The Lives Of Others

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

     As I'd hoped, I was allowed to bring Beau to the Cirque Caprani, given personal permission by the manager of the circus, the father of two little boys I found running around the circus tent this morning when Beau and I stopped by.  One, the older, blonde and blue-eyed, was carrying a tiny kitten in his arms, the other, brunette, was following his older brother around.

     Their father told me Beau would be welcome provided he did not bark.  Which he did not, throughout the show.

     There were no dog tricks this show, though, although there was a horse, a llama, acrobatic tricks, two doves, an athletic kitten, a clown who plays the trumpet, a magician who put knives through his "assistant" (the boys' mother), and locked her in a safe.  There was an expert with the hula hoop (the mother again), and a father and son acrobatic demonstration featuring the eldest boy, who is called Luca and cannot be more than five years old.

     The circus tent might have held 50 people, although tonight there were only about thirty, ten adults and twenty children.  Adults paid 7 Euros a ticket, children 3.  The children didn't seem to know what to make of the performances --perhaps watching the slick effects of video games has dulled their capacity to appreciate (for instance), how much balance and precision goes into being able to do handstands on precariously perched chairs perched atop other chairs without crashing to earth, and worse.  The adults though (including me) took everything in good fun, clapping along to the music and applauding each performance vigorously.

     The circus goes from village to village, year to year.  It is just a family circus, a Mom-and-Pop operation: Christophe Landri plays all the male parts, his wife Emilie (Miss Emilie is her stage name) the distaff ones.  Luca appears with his father for the brief acrobatic exhibition and sells postcards outside the tent at the close of the show.

     The Landris are a sixth generation family of circus people.  The latest generation to take to the big top includes Christophe and his brothers Yves (Cirque de Venise) and Louis (Grand Cirque de France-Zavatta).  Originally from Italy, the Landris' great-grandfather emigrated to France with the circus and stayed here.

     Running the Cirque Caprani (which gets around the country thanks to a giant Scania tractor-trailer) is a full-time job: Emilie runs the box office and sells popcorn and cotton candy (barbe a papa) at intermission, in addition to taking the female parts in the show and being ringmaster.  Christophe attends to the set-up of the tent and the chairs inside and drives the truck.

     At the end of the show, Christophe, dressed as the trumpet-playing clown, Marconi, held open the tent flap so his audience could exit, while Luca, opposite, offered souvenir postcards for sale for any contribution.

      After paying my compliments to him I asked Christophe whether the circus stopped for the children to go to school.

      No, they attend school through correspondence courses, he told me.

      Well, they get to see their parents doing something they love doing, I said, not wanting to dwell on the unusualness of the children's lives.  I admire you so much, I told Christophe, and I meant it.  The dedication it takes to live on the road, to raise two boys on the road, not to mention the physical demands of the work --what if Christophe should have a mishap?  --impressed upon me how different circus performers are from any other type of performer.  Let alone how different a tiny family circus, struggling to survive, is from a "big top".

      I had met Luca in the morning, and from where I was sitting during the show I saw him exit after his turn with his Dad.  At intermission I saw him again, and complimented him on his performance:

     It wasn't me, really, he said, modestly.

     Oh, but you were in partnership with you Dad, and it was very good, I said.  We exchanged a few more words --about the postcards for sale at intermission, and I gave him two Euros for two, which he would not take.

     Oh you can buy them only at the end, he told me rather than take my money.   So by the time I approached him outside the tent to see the postcards he was selling, we were already friends.

      How much are they? I asked, catching sight of the bundle of colored cards in his hands.

     Whatever you want to offer, he replied politely, then petted Beau.

     Well, let's see....I said, taking the pile from him and counting out eleven cards.

      I gave him 11 Euros for the pile.

      You see you have fans!  When will you be back in Caunes?

      I don't know, he said shyly.

      Well, until next time, I said, shaking his hand before leaving with Beau, happy we'd gone to the Cirque Caprani.

   

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