Down the Rabbit Hole at The Civic: A Circus Spectacle That Defies Gravity
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
There are opening nights, and then there are opening nights that feel like somebody has ripped a hole in reality and invited an entire theatre to climb through it.
Friday night at Auckland’s Civic is firmly in the latter category.
Outside, the red carpet is already in full swing. A photographer is working the Cirque Alice backdrop, snapping guests as they arrive, and the promotional machine is clearly firing on every cylinder. Inside, the atmosphere is equally theatrical. Audience members have gone all-in on the Wonderland theme, with more than a few arriving dressed as though they have just wandered out of Lewis Carroll’s imagination.
Then I notice the seating.
People are sitting either side of the stage.
Not near the stage. On the stage.
This is going to be one of those nights.
The air inside The Civic is thick with anticipation.
And then, from stage left, comes the White Rabbit.
Except this White Rabbit is playing a violin.
Dressed, naturally, entirely in white, Raphael Papo walks into Wonderland and begins to play. And this isn't some recorded soundtrack gimmick, he is genuinely playing live, and continues to provide a musical thread throughout the evening.
It is a beautifully understated beginning before the tempo suddenly kicks up several gears. The audience is encouraged to clap along, and they don't need much encouragement. Within seconds, The Civic is alive.
Then Alice arrives.
Layla Rose Schillert steps onto the stage and opens her mouth.
What comes out is extraordinary.
Her voice is impossibly high, theatrical and almost operatic, the kind of sound that seems to belong somewhere above the theatre rather than inside it. There is something almost celestial about it, like an angel has wandered into Wonderland and decided to provide the soundtrack.
And that is the trick Cirque Alice pulls repeatedly over the next two hours: just when you think you understand what kind of show you're watching, it changes shape.
This isn't simply circus.
It isn't simply theatre.
It isn't a musical.
It's all of those things thrown into a Wonderland blender and turned up to maximum velocity.
Created by Simon Painter and Tim Lawson, the production takes Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and uses it less as a traditional narrative than as a launchpad for an international showcase of circus artistry. Painter and Lawson are hardly newcomers to this territory. Their CV includes productions such as The Illusionists, Circus 1903 and Le Noir – The Dark Side of Cirque, while Painter was also behind Cirque du Soleil's Mad Apple.
The result is a production that feels designed for maximum sensory impact.
And when the acrobats arrive, the word "maximum" suddenly doesn't seem adequate.
At one point, two performers take to the apparatus. One lies flat on his back while the other launches himself, body rigid, onto his partner's legs.
Then he flies.
He is propelled, flipped and rotated through the air like a human rag doll, except rag dolls generally don't have the ability to execute the kind of twists and turns these guys are pulling off.
I'm sitting there thinking: How the heck is that possible?
There are moments when circus stops being entertainment and becomes a direct challenge to your understanding of the human body.
This is one of them.
And that is only one act.
I'm deliberately not going to give away every spectacular moment because Cirque Alice is one of those shows where knowing what's coming would rob it of some of its magic.
There is a tumbling duo.
There are aerialists.
There are contortionists.
There is puppetry.
There is magic.
There is comedy.
And there are acts that involve performers balancing ridiculously high above the stage on apparatus that looks like it was designed by someone with absolutely no regard for my blood pressure.
One sequence has a performer balancing high above the stage on what appears to be little more than a plank and a ball.
No safety net.
No visible harness.
Just extraordinary balance, concentration and an apparent willingness to completely ignore the laws of physics.
And just when you think, Okay, that's insane enough, the performer takes it somewhere even more ridiculous.
I'm not telling you how.
Spoiler alert denied.
You need to see it yourself.
Then there is the Mad Hatter.
Darren “Dizzy” Partridge is an absolute weapon.
Part magician, part comedian, part clown and seemingly part professional troublemaker, Partridge understands one of the oldest rules of live entertainment: sometimes the audience needs to breathe.
He gives them that opportunity, although I'm not sure the audience member he drags onto the stage would necessarily agree.
Partridge's audience participation routine involves handkerchiefs, some very unfortunate positioning and a willing member of the crowd. I'm not going to explain the mechanics because half the fun is watching the penny drop in real time.
The result is hilarious.
And when the Mad Hatter returns later with a gigantic balloon, things become even more absurd. He inflates this enormous sphere, sticks his head inside it and eventually gets himself inside the giant balloon.
It's completely ridiculous.
It's completely brilliant.
And The Civic erupts.
Partridge's role is particularly important because Cirque Alice can be breathtakingly intense. The acrobatic sequences are so death-defying that there are moments when the audience collectively forgets to breathe.
At one point, I glance sideways at the woman sitting next to me.
She's holding her head in her hands.
Teeth clenched.
Eyes down.
She simply cannot watch.
Then, almost against her better judgement, she looks back up.
That's the effect this show has.
You know these performers are professionals. You know there is an enormous amount of training, choreography and safety preparation behind what you're witnessing.
But your brain doesn't care.
Your brain is screaming:
THAT PERSON IS GOING TO FALL.
They don't.
They fly.
That's the difference between watching circus at this level and watching something that merely calls itself circus.
The production has already travelled internationally, following its world premiere at Queensland Performing Arts Centre in Brisbane in 2025 and subsequent seasons including Singapore and Australia. Earlier reviews have singled out the international calibre of its performers, including aerialists, contortionists and acrobats from across the globe.
The show's international pedigree is obvious.
The performers aren't simply technically proficient. They are elite athletes who also understand performance. Every movement has character. Every costume contributes to the visual world. Every act feels connected to the strange logic of Wonderland.
And visually, Cirque Alice is enormous.
The Civic is transformed into something that feels much larger than a conventional theatre presentation, with the action spilling right out into the audience. That on-stage seating isn't just a clever premium-ticket gimmick; it fundamentally changes the relationship between performer and audience.
You're not simply watching the circus.
You're sitting inside it.
That immersive approach has been part of the show's design since its earlier productions, with audiences placed directly around the action.
And then there is the music.
Classical music gets thrown into the blender and comes out the other side with contemporary energy, while Papo's live violin provides a human connection amid all the spectacle. The combination works brilliantly.
Cirque Alice is spectacle with the volume knob ripped off.
There are moments of genuine beauty.
There are moments of ridiculous comedy.
There are moments where you simply sit there wondering how a human being can physically do what you're watching.
And there are moments where the whole theatre seems to collectively hold its breath.
Then, finally, the madness comes to an end.
The performers return.
The applause starts.
And then the entire Civic gets to its feet.
Standing ovation.
Cheers.
Whoops.
Whistles.
The kind of sustained reaction that doesn't need a critic to explain what just happened.
The audience has already delivered the verdict.
Cirque Alice is circus taken to the next level.
It is spectacular without being soulless, funny without becoming pantomime, and technically astonishing without losing sight of the simple reason we go to live entertainment in the first place:
to be amazed.
There are plenty of shows you can describe afterwards.
There are fewer shows where, halfway through explaining what you saw, you stop and realise your words aren't doing it justice.
Cirque Alice is one of those.
So here's my advice.
Don't read too much more.
Don't search for every act on YouTube.
Don't spoil the surprises.
Get yourself down to The Civic, take your seat, preferably very close to the action and allow yourself to fall down the rabbit hole.
Because this isn't circus as you've known it.
This is circus with the safety switch removed.
★★★★★ 5/5
Cirque Alice
The Civic, Auckland
28 August – 6 September 2026
Approx. two hours including interval
Recommended 6+
For tickets and official show information, visit Auckland Live – Cirque Alice