Rub-a-dub-dub, two boys in a tub

The Royal Countess Zingara spiegeltent has, for months, stood in Century City, host to Africa’s popular cirque show, La Dolce Royal.

The act now being rehearsed on the small, circular, central podium is two men tucked intimately inside a small Victorian-style slipper tub. With nothing but core strength, toned arms, body awareness and fierce concentration, one of them, an Englishman named Jonny Grundy, rises out of the bath into a handstand, fingers gripping either side of the tub. His partner, Manuel Artino, a Sicilian, watches from below. Several moments of suspense follow. Then there’s a tuck and roll and the two of them are engaged in an athletic dance, easing their bodies into myriad positions: contortions, twists, balances, holds and lifts. They’re graceful, sinuous, poised and — in counterpoint to their physical muscularity — nimble.

There’s humour, too, in their cheekily timed interactions, in the way the tub enables them to play a raunchy hide-and-seek. There’s a story, a human narrative beyond lining up a sequence of awe-evoking tricks. It’s up to the audience to decide the relationship they’re witnessing.

Grundy and Artino are among several new international acts introduced to Zingara’s programme this month. Their rehearsal is problem-solving, familiarising themselves with a new tent, an unfamiliar tub, preparing the Zingara crew member to operate the winch for their first performance, still two nights away.

The winch is for the second part of the act — the boys hoisted into the air, where they dance, cavort and execute twists, turns, flips, falls, catches and suspensive holds while spinning from a pair of straps.

Up there, above the tub, the act’s potential dangers are apparent.

At one point, Artino, struggling with a set of borrowed straps not quite right for the task, is suspended from his neck in a loop, spinning at exhilarating speed.

“It doesn’t terrify me,” Artino shrugs. “It can be painful, though.”

Determination — and a degree of fearlessness — are critical, though Artino adds he needs a strong neck, for which he uses bands to train the back-of-the-neck muscles. “You need flexibility and full body awareness,” he says.

Awareness of their bodies in space is crucial, especially while doing aerial spins. “You must know where every part of your body is all the time,” Grundy says. “When Manuel pulls into that tight spin, he knows precisely where his little toe is. Every body part must be exactly where it’s meant to be.” A slight deviation can send the spin out of control.

They were both dancers before transitioning into the circus world and while plenty of what they do looks like a mix between gymnastics and dancing, their act is the result of years of auto-didactic discovery. They launched their two-man act after the pandemic, touring the UK with Giffords Circus. Audiences loved them and the following year they won both the top prize and the audience choice award at Newcomershow, The International Variety Festival, held annually in Leipzig, Germany.

They’ve since performed around the world, done aerial work for pop star Dua Lipa, appeared in circus shows, on cruise ships, on television, in cabarets and operas, and had a stint at Berlin’s famed Wintergarten theatre.

They’ve performed in huge arenas with audiences of up to 10,000 but they prefer the intimacy of mirror tents like Zingara’s ‘Magic Crystal’. “When it’s too big, there’s a disconnect,” Grundy says. “Here, we can see the audience and play with them.” Artino says the water heightens the intimacy, breaks the sense of a fourth wall. “People get splashed — they’re literally in the show.”

It’s no spoiler to say the boys are drenched by the time they’re raised into the air, hanging and balancing on one another. Their bathtub routine is anything but routine, a mix of clever choreography and playful physical humour. It’s also spicy. It’s impossible to watch and not be aware of an erotic undercurrent. “In an act with a bathtub, it’s unavoidable,” Grundy says. “We’re unique because we’re one of few male couples working together in the industry.”

During performances, they strip down considerably, so the act’s a cocktail of dextrousness and honed flesh, soaked jeans and dazzling showmanship.

Artino says it’s Grundy’s strength that makes him a great partner. “He can lift me and I can be the flyer, knowing he won’t drop me.” It’s why they fearlessly dance in the sky, able to swap out the contrasting tasks of holding and being held, supporting, and being supported.

One moment that elicits gasps is the two of them spinning in the air — Grundy lays himself out horizontally and Artino uses his body — flat as a board — to perform manoeuvres, including the splits. “When I do the splits on his body, audiences go crazy. For me it’s not a big deal,” Artino says. “Oh, he could have his morning coffee up there,” Grundy adds.

Even more inspiring than displays of strength and physical ingenuity is witnessing two men exercising unmitigated mutual trust. There are moments of hanging on to one another, their lives in each other’s hands. “Some tricks I do hanging from Manuel in a vulnerable position ... if we were to slip,” says Grundy. “You have to place your trust in the other person to know [that] it’s okay.”

In an era hell-bent on distrust, witnessing mutual accountability feels like an antidote, like magic in a fractured world.

• Jonny Grundy and Manuel Artino can be seen as part of Zingara’s La Dolce Royal line-up until the conclusion of its run in Cape Town in May.