Theatre review: Slava’s Snowshow

SLAVA POLUNIN is a blizzard of mirth and imagination 15 years after the birth of Snowshow. Kelly Apter meets him at his Paris home

When the curtain goes up on Slava’s Snowshow, the auditorium is filled with children and adults. Ninety minutes later, there’s not an adult in sight. Such is the power of this worldwide phenomenon, which turns sensible grown-ups into giddy youngsters.

Touring the UK as part of its 15th anniversary celebrations, Snowshow has no speech, no narrative, no hidden subtext to send you pondering into the night. Instead it offers 90 minutes of pure joy, with just enough poignancy to make you care about the characters. By the end the stalls have been re-decorated, with the floor, seats and occupants all covered in “snow” (tiny pieces of soft white paper). Giant inflatable balls are bounced excitedly around the theatre and a child-like glee emanates from all. “I never usually laugh out loud at the theatre,” said the woman sitting behind me to her children. Well she did that night – and she wasn’t alone.

Anarchic audience interaction aside, much of Snowshow’s appeal lies in the talent of the performers; career clowns who know a subtle tilt of the head can change a moment of sadness into hilarity. It’s a skill they’ve learned from the best in the business – Slava Polunin, whose fertile imagination grew Snowshow from seed. Originally a two-man show, the production now features seven performers, members of Slava’s Academy of Fools, chosen by Slava not just for their acting skills, comic timing and quick thinking but because of their attitude to life.

“The most important thing I look for is happiness,” says Slava when we meet. “I want us to inspire other people to be happy, and there is a light that shines in our eyes and in our smile that overflows into the theatre. There are people who are always wonderfully happy, no matter how hard their life may be, they radiate joy like an electric powerhouse.”

Looking around Slava’s home, a renovated mill on the outskirts of Paris set in more than nine acres of grounds, it’s impossible to imagine anybody being sad here. Slava and his wife Elena bought Moulin Jaune as a wreck ten years ago, and have worked tirelessly to turn it into the creative paradise it is today. Each room has a different theme, ranging from beautiful, old-fashioned guest quarters where everything is blue and white, through to the futuristic bedroom of their youngest son, complete with egg-shaped bathroom.

Artistry is everywhere, be it a love poem painted on to wooden floorboards or sculptures hanging from the trees outside. At one point we pass a large collection of colourful trainers no longer fit to wear – “my son is going to build a wall of transparent bricks and put a shoe inside each one,” says Slava. “In this house nothing is lost.”

The same is true of ideas. Slava and Elena call Moulin Jaune their “laboratory”, a place where artists can play together and generate ideas which, even if they don’t end up on stage, will entertain the hundreds of people who attend regular “feasts” held by the family. Food and drink are always in good supply but at these parties bringing your own bottle isn’t enough. “Everyone involved has to create,” says Slava, “or they have no place being at it.”

This is said with a smile, but Slava’s belief in creativity is deadly serious. It’s a fundamental part of life, something he feels we all need to be happy. Life at Moulin Jaune gives him and Elena the space and, crucially, the company they need to produce their remarkable work. “First I need to establish an atmosphere of creativity around myself,” explains Slava after our tour of the grounds, “and after that I can move on to creating. So rather than painstakingly trying to come up with something, I’d rather sing and dance and have fun, then come up with ideas and jot them down.”

Sitting in the family living room (Slava and Elena share the home with two sons, a daughter-in-law and two young granddaughters) the focal point is not a television but a stage. Slava and his six-year-old granddaughter regularly perform shows on it and, according to Elena, “it’s impossible to know which one is the child”. Not bad for a man who turned 60 this year.

“Next to being creative, the other key to happiness is to follow your childhood dream,” says Slava. “What people say most frequently about Snowshow is that they’ve returned to childhood again when they watch it, back to a time when everything used to be open.”

And what was Slava’s childhood dream growing up in Russia? “I wanted to be a forester, a librarian and a clown,” he says, “so my dreams are constantly coming true.” They are indeed – when he’s not performing or staging shows, Slava is hard at work tending to his acreage (he and Elena travel to the Chelsea Flower Show each year to gather ideas) or adding to and reading from the seven themed libraries dotted around Moulin Jaune.

In Snowshow a bed becomes a boat, a hat stand turns into a person, and a vast synthetic cobweb covers the audience like a blanket of snow. Much the same happens at Slava’s home, where the lid of a broken sugar bowl has been fastened to the wall as a coat hook, and a picture frame filled with chopped-up wooden poles from a broom handle is now a toilet roll holder.

“I’ve been this way since my early childhood,” he says. “I remember at the age of ten building wooden huts in the woods or whole cities made of snow. Or I’d arrange parties for my friends with all kinds of eccentric ideas and unusual things. I didn’t play with toys that you bought in a shop, I used to invent and make my own.”

It’s easy to see why those around him are so inspired by Slava. After just an afternoon in his company I find myself asking WWSD (What Would Slava Do) each time I come across a broken dish or old T-shirt. It also explains why the performers in Snowshow are so beguiling, and why 90 minutes in their company leaves you feeling so rejuvenated.

“For these people, creativity is like the air they breathe,” says Slava. “They want to brighten up everybody’s lives. They appear to be doing silly, seemingly meaningless things, but there’s so much joy in it that you can’t resist.” v

Slava’s Snowshow is at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, 11–15 October, and Edinburgh Festival Theatre, 18-22 October