Preview: The 7 Fingers Troupe Artistic Director, Shana Carroll, Dives Into ‘Duel Reality’

When you think of the circus, the first company to come to mind might very well be Cirque du Soleil. Their renown is as deserved as their performers and themed shows are impressive.

Yet, there is another troupe in town that offers similar visual trappings but also does their due diligence to add exciting twists of their own. They are The 7 Fingers, an artist collective based in the same city where their mainstreamed contemporaries were founded: Montreal, Quebec, Canada.

Also referred to in French as Les 7 Doigts De La Main, this smaller cast of aerial expressionists have likewise earned a stellar reputation with productions like Cuisine & Confessions, a sensory feast, and RÉVERSIBLE, a collection of existentially driven and dynamic individual odysseys.

The 7 Fingers are, of course, no strangers to tours, their latest being Duel Reality, directed by Shana Carroll (also the group’s artistic director), which only last year was a winner of the 2023 Seoul Arts Awards.

Duel Reality, a particularly unique offering, pivots off of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, bringing the two star-crossed lovers into the realm of the circus where, in lieu of merely words, they and their warring families charismatically emote through competitively athletic means. Not dissimilar from a fierce battle between sports teams, the show’s array of aerial acts — including pole balancing, hula hoops, equilibristics, diabolos, and more — underscore a mano-a-mano clash for the ages.

With Duel Reality set to astonish L.A. audiences at Center Theatre Group’s Ahmanson Theatre from September 11^th through the 22^nd, director Carroll recently discussed her own journey, thoughts on The 7 Fingers’ latest concept, and much more.

As I understand, you started out as a trapeze artist, became an acrobat for Cirque du Soleil, and then co-founded The 7 Fingers in 2002. What was the catalyst in going from a live performer to a founding Artistic Director who has played more of a behind-the-scenes role?

Carroll: I think it was something I always knew I wanted to do; it was more a question of when. Prior to finding trapeze, I was a theatre kid, in high school plays, taught at my drama studio, and founded a little theatre group. I gravitated towards directing because I am more passionate about the actual making of things than being on stage myself. I learned that even at age 16.

So when I started trapeze, even in my very first years, it was really the creative side that drew me in. Some people get into circus because it’s sports-adjacent. But for me, creating, writing, and choreographing my acts was the thing I most loved. Performing them — yeah, okay. But the genesis of ideas, music, gestures, meaning, story, etc. — I couldn’t get enough.

Imagine my disappointment to discover that — at least back then — once you had an ‘act’ you pretty much just performed that act, ad infinitum. The creative work was done, for the most part. So I was constantly looking for other ways to continue the creative side of the work, even while performing the ‘same old act.’ At circus school I asked other students if I could choreograph for them. [And so I] assistant-directed at our end-of-year shows.

Once at Saltimbanco (Cirque du Soleil) I was made Dance Captain and had a lot of choreographic responsibilities, particularly when new acts would come on board. I would recreationally put on cabarets, side projects, and always return to teaching at circus schools around the world, in my spare time, etc. I drove every director crazy by having more notes for the cast than they even did! Conscious or not, it was very clear that was where I was going.

Founding The 7 Fingers was my way of finally making that transition. I still wanted to perform — at first. And wanted to work with buddies. And had ideas and visions of shows that didn’t fit into any existing mold so, hey, let’s make our own mold. So all of that combined, founding a company seemed the only way. It didn’t feel that different from when I was a kid and making up dances with friends at slumber parties. It was not only fun, but seemed like the obvious next step.

As for the specific catalyst, I will actually give you a pretty honest answer. My last year at Saltimbanco I got pregnant, and miscarried. It was unbelievably devastating, and felt like a turning point that I was tasked to figure out. I had already stopped performing my trapeze act in Saltimbanco, and felt strongly I just couldn’t go backwards. [It was a] combination of putting my brain in parent/nesting mode and all that entailed — building my own house, so to speak. But also that I’d just been given a window of time to start the stuff I was putting off starting, that might be harder to start once I have a child; it was just the kind of event that makes you go, okay, it’s now. What do I really want to be doing with my life? Starting a company — though definitely no picnic (!) — was the clear, resounding answer.

I have seen a few of 7 Fingers’ productions and I’d have to say that Cuisine & Confessions has been the most memorable for me thus far because it integrates my two favorite things: acrobatics and food. Do you have a favorite show you’ve directed up until this point?

Carroll: Oh, so interesting you say that! Cuisine is possibly my favorite as well. Not only did I love the food element and the challenge of actually cooking and feeding the audience throughout the show (!), but at its heart it was based on the personal stories of the individuals on that stage, and they had such rich, complex, and intense stories. So, on the one hand, it was a bright show with a cheery kitchen vibe, but on the other we were learning about people escaping violence and poverty, about a father that had been kidnapped and murdered by the military police in Argentina. [These were] incredible themes and stories that came through [in] that show, but were all genuine, real, and personal. Not only did I love that we could hear from the performers on stage in real time, in such a powerful way, but I really loved the more explicit exercise in circus storytelling, literally each act a vehicle to tell an intimate personal story and really playing with the ways and approaches.

Passengers, which premiered in 2018, then got sidetracked by Covid for a few years, is my other favorite, because it was built at a very personal time, when I was grieving, and dedicated to a dear friend who passed away. It has loads of emotion sunk into it, and the imagery (train travel, a sometimes too-fleeting lifetime, arrivals and departures and saying goodbye) is juxtaposed with the inherently uplifting and human-empowering language of circus. Yes, life is short, so let’s sink our teeth into it.

Oh gosh, and [with] Séquence 8, I loved the acts the most, I think! It’s my favorite from a choreographic standpoint, as that’s where we put so much energy. It was one of the first shows where we explored using the ensemble in otherwise solo performances and the results were just so rich and stimulating. [With] Psy, I loved the audacity. [With] Traces, I loved its rawness; it’s kind of like choosing between your children! I really do love them all, quirks and flaws included. But, of course, I can barely have an objective opinion, as it’s all wrapped up in the experience, the individuals, the particular moment in time.

How was the concept of Duel Reality developed and how did you arrive at taking inspiration from Romeo and Juliet? Can you foresee any future 7 Fingers productions that might reimagine other renowned stories that guests will enjoy relating to?

Carroll: Within the Fingers, particularly with Gypsy Snider (another of the founding Fingers, also American, also with a theatre background) we have been talking about doing a version of Romeo and Juliet for years! And Shakespeare in general — there is something in its epicness that works with the epicness of circus; something in the high stakes and high drama that translate well with physical drama and physical stakes.

Duel Reality actually had a funny, circuitous route. In 2007 I was tasked to create a show on a tennis court for the Bercy tournament (the Paris Masters, formerly known as the Paris Open). We did a ‘red team vs. blue team’ series of acrobatic battles. Then, 11 years later, the first iteration of Duel Reality was for a bifrontal, alley stage, and it reminded me of a tennis court. There was a rapid association — the Bercy piece, two teams, what if that’s our Romeo and Juliet?

I find that ideas may arrive in our heads because of random, external factors (like a tennis court), but they resonate and remain because there is some greater truth to be mined. In this case, it was clear the red vs. blue polarity struck a chord, to say the least.

As for other stories, even other Shakespeare — yes! We talk about it constantly. There is of course the added benefit of a known story — you can get way more creative when the audience already knows the bones of the story and you can afford less exposition. Especially since our language is physical — I’m telling you, it’s not easy to make a storyline clear without words! Or, in our case usually, very minimal words by not-trained actors! This is why circus is so often more given to abstract form as contemporary dance is. But, taking known story and essentializing it as such allows the audience to ‘get it’ but still be transported on impulse and imagery.

What is your perspective on how story and acrobatics should be integrated, especially given that many (if not most) attendees of your shows may have a greater expectation of the latter?

Carroll: Hmmm, that’s a pretty big question! It’s not always one approach, not always one function.

I will say that it’s important for me to understand why we need acrobatics to tell this story. Even if it’s a show that is 90% acrobatics, or a show that is 5% acrobatics, we need to know why acrobatics, in those moments, is the necessary and essential form. It could be for its rich metaphor — for instance, what it says about our interdependence, throwing and catching and holding each other; or defying the laws of nature and doing something we thought otherwise humanly impossible. How is that needed as a representation of a moment in the story where the roof comes off, where emotional risk is taken, where hearts have no gravity, where boundaries are broken, etc.?

Or it could be for its visceral, ‘get the audience in a blood-pumping, high-stakes, adrenaline-fueled physiological state that matches how the characters are feeling in that moment.’

Or it could be for its potential to portray abstract and often surreal imagery otherwise impossible, a man hanging by one foot, a woman bent in half, the stuff of dreams — how can it be used to access that murky art of our subconscious?

Or it could be simply like with musical theatre — you act until you have to sing, you sing until you have to dance, and then you dance until you have to fly.

The potential of how circus can be used for storytelling and where its power lays is something I could bore you with for much longer! But my short answer is that it needs to be needed.

And as far as audience expectations, it’s such a funny little witchcraft we do. The only thing I can reliably factor in when creating a show is whether moment to moment the choices feel right. Then, once in that dark theatre, the audience will jump on the train and not question where it’s heading. But when the choices aren’t right, story or acrobatic or their intersection, at any given moment, the train idles and they’ll question everything.

Lastly, what would you say is the biggest difference between performing in a small theatre versus one like the Ahmanson which seats up to 2,109 people? Is the approach the same, or does the show need to adapt to reach the furthest person in the auditorium?

Carroll: When you design a show for a large venue, you tend to go big — more stuff on stage, more production value, prettier ‘pictures.’ But I often find, say, when you go to a concert, and that emotional ballad at the piano is the strongest moment in the whole show, despite the other moments with pyrotechnics and a chorus of dancers, I like to think an audience wants to zoom in. So, for sure, a small show like ours, we need to raise the eye level, to project farther, to reach higher. But it’s also important to have faith that even a big audience wants to get intimate — [and so we] pull them in, instead of trying to ambush them.

Cover image caption: The cast in The 7 Fingers’ production of Duel Reality. Photo courtesy of @Ekopics and The 7 Fingers

For more information about The 7 Fingers’ Duel Reality, and to purchase tickets, visit centertheatregroup.org.