La Poème

Eggs seem to be the prop du jour this Fringe, playing a starring role in many a circus show as emblems of fragility, symbols of femininity and so forth. But Jeanne Mordoj is the only performer to graciously give hers a curtain call, at the end of La Poème. The egg deserves it too, although really it's Mordoj herself who makes this short compelling clown-theatre piece a treat.

Her way of moving pitches rippling fluidity against bashful awkwardness; her elastic facial expressions pop and surge as she crams egg after egg into her mouth, or halt as shells drop embarrassingly from beneath her demure floral skirt.

Mordoj is a contortionist and juggler, and both skills come into play during the show, although as in many of this year's circus pieces, the skills hover atop something deeper. Here it's an exploration of female identity, through a body which sometimes lets Mordoj down (those pesky incontinent eggshells) and sometimes entertains her with its surprise textures and movements. As she slides an egg yolk slowly down one arm, only to eat it, spit it out and slide it back down the other, sensuality and revulsion become two sides of the same coin. Which is what makes this piece, despite its constant challenging strangeness, surprisingly delightful.

Slowly the dynamic shifts from comic to elemental, and as Mordoj creates white face paint out of her broken eggshells, it feels as if she is turning herself inside out to show us what lies beneath.