Imagine a bird with a comic sensibility. Indeed, all eight of Norman Barrett's small birds‹parakeets, or budgies to be precise‹collectively demonstrate a keen sense of humor. Each displays a distinct personality‹" 'tude" is a more accurate term‹and their timing is peerless. Sometimes they perform tricks with uncanny precision. Other times they're downright defiant.
But then consider the universe they inhabit: life in a wonderfully themeless spectacle‹a series of unconnected acts that are skillful, loony, and utterly delightful. It's non sequitor as celebration. The show is "Happy On!," a suitably unlikely title; and it's this year's Big Apple Circus presentation, now playing at Darmrosch Park at Lincoln Center.
"Unifying themes in circuses are the result of the Cirque du Soleil influence, and there's nothing wrong with that," insists Barrett, bird-trainer and current Big Apple Circus Ringmaster. "But the traditional circus and the good touring circuses in England are much more like this‹even today."
In fact, the style and tenor of "Happy On!" are largely an accommodation to the Yorkshire native's presence on the scene. Dubbed "The Ringmaster's Ringmaster" by the British press, Barrett has officiated in that capacity at some of the world's major circuses, including the legendary Bertram Mills Circus in London and Blackpool's Tower Circus‹where he managed the ring for 25 seasons. His zany budgie act‹acrobatic birds aflutter on balls and Ferris wheels and trapeze swings‹now in its 32nd year, has been featured in hot nightclubs, variety, and TV shows all over Europe: "I've done it all‹vaudeville, music hall, and Christmas Pantomime."
The Big Apple Circus represents Barrett's first American appearance, and some adjustment on his part has been called for, he admits. "In America the ringmaster introduces the acts, but he's not part of them and he doesn't deal with props or sets. In England, the ringmaster is a host and a stage manager and a director. He can correct the rigging if something goes wrong and he's integrated into the performances.
"There's less stress here, but in some ways I miss it," Barrett continues. He is talking with us in a designated visitor's trailer that has been set up in Damrosch Park, flanked by dozens of caravans where circus members and their families live. "I'm a ham with a capital "H' and it took me a few weeks to get into an American style‹it's more laid back. Paul Binder [Big Apple Circus Artistic Director] said, "Relax and trust your material to work.' In England, I push. But then, in England, circuses are geared more to children than they are here. They're broader. Knockabout physical slapstick is part of that. In New York, nobody is allowed to touch anyone. It's seen as aggressive."
The gracious 60-something Barrett, who speaks with a marked British accent, and brings to mind a white-haired Rex Harrison without really looking like him, is a satisfied man spending his life doing what he likes‹"You should work at what you enjoy. This is not a rehearsal. This is it!"‹and he's a consummate performer. He concedes he still has butterflies in his stomach before each performance and is passionately committed to giving each show his best shot.
"If I do badly I've let everyone down‹and that includes the guys who put up the tents and those who rig the lighting‹as well as myself. We're bonded in a special way. And it's important for me to squeeze every last laugh and bit of applause out of an audience." After each show he and his wife, who travels with him (and is currently creating a line of small teddy bears) review his performance and find ways to improve it.
Barrett views Ringmaster and Birdmaster as roles, characters he plays, and he approaches them like an actor. "I'm me playing me going out there and having a wonderful time in an over-the-top-way."
The show's title, "Happy On!" is a traditional British expression and one that reflects Barrett's worldview: "If you're happy off-stage, you're happy on!"
Earning His Top Hat
The son of a farmer-turned-circus-owner, Barrett grew up with "Barrett's Great Canadian Circus" all around him and from the outset he wanted to appear in the circus too. "As a kid my goal was to be a lion trainer, to which my father said, "Lion trainers get the most money, but ringmasters live the longest." He chortles.
In fact, like all traditionally trained ringmasters, Barrett practised every aspect of circus‹from horseback-riding to bear presentations to juggling‹before donning his ringmaster's top hat. In 1967 Barrett forged his wonderful bird act when the Bertram Mills Circus, with which he had performed for decades, was closing its tent permanently.
"I needed an act that I could do in other circuses, variety shows, and cabarets. It had to be something I could carry in the back of my car. Yes, I could juggle. But I was one of 50,000 jugglers, and 49,999 were better than I was."
Within nine months he had trained the budgies and developed his original act that combined tricks and humor and charm. "Typically in England bird acts are presented by glamorous ladies. I have a comic relationship with the birds." Still, his performance mode‹including costume and presentation‹shifts slightly with each venue.
The British cabaret setting is the most formal of these and here Barrett sports a contemporary tux. At an old-styled music hall, however‹which marries vaudeville and cabaret elements‹he's in black tail coat, top hat, and interacts with the audience in an almost ritualized, indeed, expected manner: "The performer might say, "I can do this,' and the audience replies in unison, "No, you can't.' "Yes, I can.' "No, you can't.'
"The old-time music hall is very entertaining," Barrett adds. "It's like vaudeville in that there is a series of acts. But the music hall always has a chairman who sits behind a desk with a gavel and introduces the acts. He interacts with the performers and the audience. He'll say, for example, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we bring you at enormous expense‹.' He'll wait and the audience will repeat "at enormous expense.' And there are standard songs that everyone sings. For those who don't know the words there are placards that someone holds up, and sometimes there are song sheets on each seat."
Despite‹perhaps because of‹its cornball hokiness, the music-hall tradition has great allure, Barrett suggests, maintaining that it would probably enjoy a cult following in New York if the right setting could be found. Indeed, he suspects the audiences in New York and London might share similar demographics. "In Britain you have your older audiences who've always enjoyed it and then there are the younger ones who are discovering [in some cases re-discovering] it. In an attempt to attract younger audiences music halls featured rock singers for awhile, but that didn't work. Music-hall performances, like many circuses, have lost audiences because it's not the "in' thing. And then suddenly it is."
The Christmas Pantomime, with which Barrett has been identified, is yet another singularly British theatrical tradition and is unlike anything that exists in the States. For starters, it's not a pantomime at all, but rather a pageant of song, dance, and comedy performed within the boundaries of traditional stories like Cinderella and Snow White, Barrett explains. But what's especially striking is the prevalent gender-bending throughout the show, although there's nothing campy about it. This is not the world of drag queens, he stresses. "Indeed, beautiful girls playing boys and masculine men in dresses emerge from an old-fashioned convention. Almost every single theatre in England has a Christmas Pantomime."
Still, for Barrett it's his life in the circus that continues to hold the most magnetism, from the high moments"like the Royal Command performances that were shots in the arm"‹to the more puzzling encounters. Case in point: why one audience responds wildly to a bit, while another sits there brain dead. "In my bird act I try to get one bird to climb a pipe and hop onto a small bike. I'm coaxing and coaxing. The bird refuses to do it. At the same time another bird, one that I'm ignoring, runs up the pole and jumps onto the bike. Here and in England the response is good. In France, it's very good. In Germany, it means nothing. Nobody laughs."
A thorn in Barrett's side is the flak he occasionally receives for performing an animal act at all. "My birds spend the day flying around unfettered in their own caravan room [trailer]. The only time they're in the cage is when I carry them to and from the stage. Further, an animal is not going to do what you want if you treat him cruelly." He adds, "I have been in circuses my whole life and only once did I witness animal cruelty. And that person was fired."
Those encounters are admittedly bleeps on an otherwise contented life. At the moment he's having a ball in New York. "I adapt easily and wherever I am is home. I'm looking forward to the Radio City Music Hall Christmas show, and every Monday night my wife and I go down to the Sullivan Street Theatre to watch magicians work out. And my son who is an illusionist will be visiting us soon."
In the future, Barrett says, "I'd love to play Vegas, appear on the late-night talk shows, and even try my hand at legit acting. I could see myself as Bottom." q
PULL-QUOTE:
"I'm me playing me going out there and having a wonderful time."
OR:
"I needed an act that I could do in other circuses, variety shows, and cabarets... something I could carry in the back of my car."