Circa have never been interested in doing things the safe way. The Brisbane-based contemporary circus company has built an international reputation on pushing bodies, stories and audiences to their limits, and with ‘Duck Pond’ they have once again transformed something familiar into something strange, funny, moving and unexpectedly profound.
Presented at Queensland Performing Arts Centre, ‘Duck Pond’ takes the bones of both ‘Swan Lake’ and ‘The Ugly Duckling’ and stitches them together into a wild, feather-filled fever dream of acrobatics, absurdity and aching vulnerability. From the opening moments, the audience is completely swept away.
Directed by Yaron Lifschitz, the production feels distinctly Circa: physically fearless, emotionally open and just a little bit unhinged in the best possible way. There are moments of breathtaking beauty followed almost immediately by slapstick chaos. One minute, performers are balancing impossibly atop each other in sculptural formations that look like Renaissance paintings brought to life, and the next they are waddling around in flippers cleaning feathers off the stage with mops. The tonal whiplash is part of the fun.
The premise loosely follows a lonely duckling searching for belonging while a prince becomes obsessed with the glamorous Black Swan. Like many of Circa’s works, the story is carried through movement and image rather than dialogue. Bodies are flung, caught, twisted and suspended in ways that feel both impossibly dangerous and strangely intimate.
The performers themselves are extraordinary. Circa’s ensemble operates with the kind of precision that makes audiences collectively stop breathing. Human towers sway precariously before collapsing into fluid choreography. Acrobats hurl themselves through the air with reckless abandon, only to be caught at the last possible second.
Image © Daniel Boud
What makes Circa productions special is not technical perfection alone. Plenty of circus companies can do impressive tricks. Circa’s gift is making those tricks feel deeply human, and exposing the performers’ vulnerability.
That vulnerability is especially important in ‘Duck Pond’, which at its heart is about transformation and belonging. The ugly duckling story could easily slip into saccharine territory, but Circa avoids sentimentality by leaning into weirdness and humour. The ducks are chaotic little gremlins. The swans are glamorous and vaguely threatening. The prince is simultaneously tragic and absurd. Everyone seems to be yearning for connection while also making terrible decisions.
Visually, the production is stunning. Libby McDonnell’s costumes shift between elegance and outright camp, with sleek black and white swan ensembles giving way to gloriously silly duck attire complete with flippers and exaggerated silhouettes. The lighting design constantly reshapes the stage, plunging performers into shadow before flooding them with saturated colour. At times the stage feels icy and dreamlike; at others it resembles an underground Berlin nightclub populated entirely by emotionally damaged waterfowl.
Image © Daniel Boud
The soundscape is equally inventive. Fragments of Tchaikovsky weave through contemporary music and thunderous percussion, creating a score that feels both familiar and disorienting. Surf-rock inspired moments collide with swelling orchestral passages. The result mirrors the production itself: playful, melancholic and gloriously excessive.
What is perhaps most surprising is just how funny ‘Duck Pond’ is. Contemporary circus can sometimes take itself very seriously, but this show delights in absurd comedy. A pillow fight sequence sends feathers exploding across the stage while performers fling themselves into increasingly chaotic acrobatics. Later, the audience erupts into laughter as performers casually dismantle parts of the set mid-show, transforming backstage mechanics into choreography.
The final section of the production is especially joyful. Without spoiling too much, the walls between performer and audience begin to dissolve. Costumes disappear, personalities emerge and the show shifts from theatrical spectacle into something closer to celebration. After spending much of the performance exploring alienation and longing, the ending feels genuinely communal. It is impossible not to leave smiling.
Brisbane audiences are fortunate to claim Circa as a local company, even as they continue conquering international stages. Few arts organisations manage to create work that feels simultaneously high art and deeply accessible. ‘Duck Pond’ is sophisticated without being pretentious, emotionally resonant without becoming heavy-handed, and spectacular without losing its humanity.
Like the best fairytales, it leaves audiences slightly transformed themselves.
