Knee Deep

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The Spiegeltent is undeniably the Fringe's perfect venue to stage a circus. Its velvet big-top ceiling begs to hang a trapeze, its mirrored walls are custom designed to reflect unearthly repetitions of the shapes on stage. But that is not to devalue this troupe from Australia, who give us an hour of ethereal feats that celebrate the strength and fragility of the human body.

Lit by a hazy glow and wearing muted shades of blue and brown, the four-strong ensemble seem to melt onto the stage as if they have been imagined in some dream landscape, dissolving into a string of adagio balances, tumbling gracefully onto each others' shoulders and backs. The theme of frailty emerges again and again as they pass an egg between one another during acrobatics, and at one point aerialist Lachlan McAulay makes a tiny blue origami crane while suspended upside down.

This is not the sort of circus that desperately seeks applause or is crystal-studded in razzmatazz. Instead it gets to the heart of circus's origins and explores what the body is capable of. It is so beautiful to see the support and trust between the cast as they make ladders of one another to ascend a trapeze, or form shapes like human hieroglyphics. Emma Serjeant, the only woman in the troupe, is a powerhouse of deceptive strength. Dainty and fairy-like, she walks weightlessly across boxes of eggs, then later braces the other three men all at once on her shoulders and arms. As the hour draws to a close, it feels like the end of a delicious dream, one you don't want to wake up from.