Zippo's Circus: Art and magic in the greatest show on earth

For the older liberal with a sackful of angst to maintain, a trip to the circus is fraught with jeopardy. Are there any animals? There better not be animals. And what about those attractive young female acrobats wearing leotards cut to the hip? There seems to be an awful lot of them. What am I supposed to think?

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And what of those acrobatic young men of Slavic and far-eastern aspect taking liberties with gravity? Is the health and safety certification all in order? Is anyone being exploited here? And what about that wee South American chap, standing barely a metre tall who’s  front and centre of it all? How much agency do they all have in this pageant?

And so, inspection over and all the right boxes ticked, I decide to sit back and enjoy the greatest show on earth. I’ve been granted a private audience with the Zippos troupe as they make their final preparations for tomorrow’s opening night.

You enter their tented cathedral through an extravagant, red velvet curtain and past the mobile candy floss and popcorn unit and a generator beginning to hum. There are maybe 30 of these acrobatic sorcerors and every one of them as fit as the butcher’s dog’s personal trainer.

A large metal contraption is wheeled on which looks like two open-ended sieves in the shape of a giant chib. This is the Wheel of Steel. In a few moments two young Colombians will execute impossible feats of acrobatic endeavour as it picks up speed turning through 360 degrees.

Later, I’ll discover that one of these performers is called Bismark, a name I feel could catch on in some of the city’s edgier neighbourhoods. “The name’s O’Hanlon … but you can call me Bismark.” It should come with vodka cocktails.

Underneath him, Bismark’s pals are finessing the impossible. There’s a bloke doing a handstand on a giant swing, except it’s not his hands he’s using, but his mouth. A wee flotilla of gymnasts appear with two giant skipping ropes forming a cross. One of their pals is jumping over them. Upside down. With his hands.

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The nomads from the Mongolian Steppes, clad in what look like the colours of Dukla Prague FC, are doing that acrobatic pyramid thing, where they form shapes held in place by little more than their arms and legs. As a child, you’d watched something similar at the Kelvin Hall or in Billy Smart’s circus on the BBC’s Saturday Night Special.

Back then, you hadn’t overly marvelled at this, perhaps because you were doing daft things on monkey puzzles at the swing-park before the Councils started getting assailed by lawyers letters. Seeing them now, close up, with your adult’s eyes you start to marvel at the grace and beauty. This is artistry.

Ten years ago, it seemed that time and progress and caught up with the circus, wagged their fingers at them and told them they had no place in the modern world. In the US, the world renowned Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey seemed to have shut for good in 2017 after 147 years as ticket sales began to decline.

The public were less enchanted by performing animals as animal rights activists began highlighting cases of neglect. The bill for animal welfare violations became unsustainable. But what was the circus without lions and elephants? Or a space cadet being fired out a cannon? Part of its ancient attraction had always been its hint of danger; of feeling slightly ill at ease that something might go wrong.

But the big operators began to make a comeback … minus the animals. Souped-up hyper circuses began to tour such as Cirque du Soleil where fire-eating had morphed into throwing buzz-saws about the place and Mohican motorcyclists channelling Mad Max on acid in a steam-punk dystopia.

Zippos, founded in 1986, is a beguiling confection of old and new. The children will love the resident clown, Whimmie Walker. But this veteran, painted troubadour is also an acrobat and a musician. Happily. He’s still padding about in shiny, black, size 15 clown shoes.

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And then there’s wee Paulo Dos Santos, whose face shines out from the souvenir brochure, a four-feet tall trickster and a pocket battleship trickster of energy and food cheer.

You approach Paulo with a degree of trepidation. The PR manager had told you that many journalists have recoiled from interviewing him. There’s still something troubling, it seems, about these little people and old fears and prejudices still cling to them. In the US, the last redoubt of acceptable repulsiveness, some reviewers expressed contempt for “the midget” a term which in Paulo’s community is equivalent to the N-word. 

And besides, are we here to admire his skill as an acrobat and performer or to stare at him on account of his appearance.

The wee 36-year-old Brazilian is a prince though: articulate in several languages and eloquently indulgent of unedifying perceptions. And he’s a handsome dude. He has a condition called achondroplasia and, predictably, encountered bullying at school. He has a wife and three children to whom he returns after a punishing touring schedule.

“I’m completely at ease with this condition,” he says. “I have a wonderful life and am surrounded by people whom I consider to be my family. I’m doing something that I love and which brings me great happiness. And it makes me happier still when I can make other people happy.”

By now, he’s jouking about in a kilt and preparing to rehearse the show’s grand finale. The lights dim and out of the shadows they all emerge in tartan, Scotland tops and Glengarry hats. Runrig is playing and Paulo brandishes a huge saltire, twice his size.

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“I love coming to Scotland,” he says. “People in this country are so respectful and so kind. They have a special energy that they bring to our shows and all of our performers feel it very strongly. I feel very much at home here. When we do our big Scottish finale, it’s not just a PR stunt. We do it with genuine affection and warmth for the reception we always get in Scotland.”

He didn’t quite run away to join the circus, but worked hard to get here. He became proficient in capoeira, a mesmerising combination of dance, martial arts and aerial trapeze which have earned him slots with some of the world’s greatest circuses.

We’re interrupted as a flotilla of press photographers beseech him to repeat one of his routines; a dizzying procession of back flips from one side of the ring to the other. When we resume, there’s barely a bead of sweat on him.

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He describes what he does as “an art form” and, in the course of his routine, this becomes clear. He says he was drawn to the circus and that this is the place where he was always meant to be. “We are a global family,” he says. “Here, no one is judging or being cruel. It’s one of the most diverse and accepting communities you’ll find. And I’ve been privileged to work with many talented and gifted people.”

Zippos pays homage and celebration of the tribes and peoples who wandered the world’s ancient trade routes, bringing relief and a measure of joy in the midst of wars and upheavals.

In their brochure notes, Beau Denning and Martin Burton, the circus promoters speak of celebrating “the folk who are still on the move; from European Zingaro to the traditions of Kenyan Maasai livestock herders and then especially Mongolia – ‘The Land of the Eternal Blue Sky’ perhaps the last place on earh where a nomadic culture is the norm”.

When the circus came to town weapons were cast aside and, for a little while, there was peace.

Zippo's Circus is at Victoria Park, Westland Drive, Glasgow G14 9NZ until Monday June 26. To mark Father’s Day, Sunday June 18 Dad's will be given free admission with one paying child. 

Zippo's tour of Scotland continues until August 18 with dates on locations across the country. Find out more at zippos.co.uk