Hedonism gets a bad rap. The word is used to describe excess — sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll and the other usual suspects. To be hedonistic is, implicitly, to be selfish and short-sighted: driven to the mindless pursuit of pleasure by despair at a world that can’t be fixed, or perhaps simply by indifference to the needs of others.
But hedonism is also a venerable philosophical tradition. At its best, it can be ethical and empathetic, seeking to minimise hardship and maximise wellbeing not just for the individual but for the collective. Though “epicurean” is a fancy word for someone who likes food and booze a little too much, the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus actually preached moderation as the path to happiness.
And while hedonism is technically about avoiding pain, it resonates with a Buddhist acceptance that existence is undergirded by sadness and suffering. Or, as the Judeo-Christian Bible says, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!”
These words came to my mind as the house lights went down and the stage lights came up in a magnificent, many-mirrored big top. We were there for La Dolce Royale, the latest instalment in the circuitous Zingara story. Two decades ago, Madame Zingara was a Cape Town restaurant known for its chocolate chilli steaks, plush décor and burlesque entertainment. When tragedy struck and fire razed the premises, a new (more ambitious) incarnation rose from the ashes.
The Madame Zingara brand expanded into various restaurants, and in true vagabond style the real “home” would become a moveable feast: a reconstructed belle époque spiegeltent that toured South Africa in 2015. Ten years on, after wandering in the wilderness, the mythical hostess — now the Royal Countess Zingara — is back to wow audiences in Cape Town before heading to Johannesburg in July next year.
La Dolce Royale is tempered by a bittersweet prelude. The figure of the “weeping woman” (Jenny le Roux) sheds her garments of woe, inviting us to join her in redemptive aesthetic immersion. Before long, we meet The Timekeeper (Andile Magxaki), our ringmaster for the evening, who introduces us to the concept of “ecstagony” — a feeling of longing and sorrow mixed with sublime joy. This is what we experience when, acknowledging the heartache of our own and others’ lives, we nevertheless embrace the delight of art and beauty.
A trip to Zingara’s is about fun, pure and simple. Surrounded by colourful, over-the-top characters, you have full licence to let your hair down and your inner bohemian out. The food is good and the drinks are plentiful. You can dance on stage when the show is over. Yet, as I stared out across a crowd of revellers at the end of a busy, blurry night, there was something more than frivolity in the air. It was a sense of wonder, release and relief, a shared desire to let artistry keep misery at bay for a few hours.
If this sounds like an attempt to turn circus spectacle into a virtuous and worthy encounter, then let the record reflect that an opera aria was interrupted unceremoniously when the diva (Megan Spencer) farted. Countess Zingara’s performers are not self-important. The ebb and flow of high art and low continues throughout the evening — laughter, surprise, mild terror, cheesy nostalgia and awe.
If the performers do not take themselves too seriously, they are nevertheless very serious about their art. Contortionist Lunga Buthelezi astonishes with serpentine twists; twins Mykola and Andrii Pysiura match comic timing with strongman feats; Axel Perez is all flair and charm on the rola bola; Juan Pablo Palacios and Victoria Perez Iacono elicit oohs and ahs with their acrobatics. For those (like me) who haven’t kept up with the state of the circus arts, there are unexpected forms to admire: Tara Boom is an umbrella foot-juggler and Tatiana Babiy has a balancing act that must be seen to be believed. Vocal quartet The Clorettes keep the energy high with sparkling melodies.
Artistic directors Craig and Valentina Leo call this show a “poetic reply” to a world that can feel as if it is “unravelling at the edges” — a reminder “to hold fast to beauty, to hope, and to one another.” Message received, loud and clear.
This article was first published in Business Day.
