Circa: Wolf

If you like your theatre with a side of jaw-dropping acrobatics and a sprinkle of “how on earth are humans doing that with their bodies?”, then Circa’s Wolf is going to make your Fringe.

Directed by Yaron Lifschitz, the show is slick, smart, and visually stunning. The choreography hits that sweet spot between sharp precision and raw physicality, while Libby McDonnell’s costumes—black and dark gold waves—look like something out of a mythical fashion week (if wolves hosted it, of course).

The lighting design is a standout: moody single spots, sweeping washes, and then full-on dramatic states with chase effects on pars that made me think the rig itself was applauding. The sound design balances things beautifully—loud enough to keep the energy up, quiet enough that you can hear the performers exhale in perfect unison. Ori Lichtik’s music mostly works wonders, building tension and softening when needed, though a couple of tracks did feel like they wandered in from another show and never left.

And then there’s the cast. Ten acrobats doing things that make you question your own flexibility while sitting in a chair. Circa has a reputation for tumbling and acro skills, and they absolutely deliver here—pushing bodies into impossible shapes, stacking themselves like human Jenga towers, and generally redefining “core strength.” That said, I left wishing for just a touch more variety in circus skills. A dash more juggling, aerial, or surprise flair would’ve taken the spectacle from incredible to unforgettable.

Wolf is a thrilling, beautifully designed, and gasp-worthy piece of contemporary circus. It might not showcase every circus skill under the sun, but what it does, it does with undeniable style.