It’s a warm day in Budapest, and the sun is just starting to sink. Outside Hungary’s national theatre, behind swarms of late afternoon traffic, a cool, white big top stands like a monument in the petrol-scented air. The national theatre itself, the MUPA, is cathedral-huge in scale, built from imposing columns and angled staircases that create dizzying perspectives. But even that structure was not enough to contain the vision of Hungarian dance-circus company Recirquel’s latest piece, IMA. For that, the company needed to go back to the roots of circus and build their own big top outside (albeit not your average red-and-white-striped tent, but one created with a very specific purpose).

IMA is the latest piece from the company who brought smash hit Paris De Nuit and hugely acclaimed My Land to the Fringe, and translates from Hungarian as ‘prayer’. But while the starkest difference between those pieces and IMA is the fact that this new show is a solo work for aerial straps, don’t be deceived into thinking that makes it small in scale. 
Entering the big top brings the immediate awe and peace of a place of worship. There are textured walls in soft concrete colours. A huge metal grate flaps with white ribbons, buoyed by a wind machine. It’s part Stonehenge and part Zen garden. In the inner sanctum where the show is performed, audiences sit under a dome of pinprick stars that conjure up desert skies and far-off galaxies. But the space is also one that echoes with the structure of traditional circus. This combination of circus language and contemporary artistic vision has become Recirquel’s trademark, led by their artistic director, Bence Vági, who trained originally as a contemporary choreographer. ‘I always say circus brings you the astonishment,’ says Vági, as we talk after the show on MUPA’s terrace, overlooking the grey-blue Danube. ‘And dance creates more possibility for self-expression, for narrative, for language. I think also circus in this form gives a kind of access for people who maybe wouldn’t see a contemporary dance piece; it’s an open gateway. And for me, of course, it’s more colours.’
All of the artists in Recirquel are what Vági calls ‘hybrid performers’, versed in both dance and circus, though usually they began their careers in one or the other. Vági is proud of Recirquel’s continuity of artists, which enables them to tune into each other’s working methods and creative visions, making IMA very much a collaborative piece.

Renátó Illés, whom we see performing the show (the role rotates between four performers), has been with the company for ten years, while IMA’s lighting designer Attila Lenzsér, and composer Szirtes Edina Mókus who created the breathtaking original score, are also regular collaborators; again this echoes the tradition of circus’ tight family bonds. 
Even among the culture of new wave, pared-down circus, IMA is something different and very special indeed. There’s a symphony of disciplines working together: Lenzsér’s lighting creates dazzling spears of cosmic light, while Mókus’ score brings the gravitas of concert music to a genre more commonly paired with minimalist electro-beats or folksy tunes (the score is truly a masterpiece and it’s worth going along simply to hear that). At times, watching IMA unfold feels like watching the fragility and strength of humanity pitted against the scale of the universe. ‘It was said by Thomas Mann that sooner or later theatres will turn into churches,’ Vági says. ‘I always felt a bit disappointed when you visit a lot of sacred places as you have so many distractions like tourists with their flashing cameras. The real challenge with my team was how we create a kind of sacred space that would give a safe space for audiences.’ 
In order to create IMA’s sense of holiness, Vági had to turn away from ecclesiastical spaces and move towards natural wonders. ‘I spend a lot of time in deserts when I have time off,’ Vági says. ‘That’s one of the places on the planet where you have this sensation of the stars really reaching. I mean, each of us have seen starry skies, but in the desert the sky really feels like it’s surrounding you; for me that’s a source of inspiration.’

For aerialist Illés, performing the piece has become a prayer of its own kind. ‘I cannot do meditation,’ Illés says. ‘But when I do the show it feels something like that. I know where I am, but not exactly; like a trip.’ Often audiences respond to the piece with strong emotions. Illés and the other performers have become accustomed to standing at the exit, offering hugs as people leave. It’s so rare in circus to see the human who lives inside a superhuman body, let alone connect for a fleeting moment. It does have the feeling of communion, benediction, of a priest who uses their body as conduit for something larger than themselves.
‘It’s a pleasure for me if I can catch somebody’s soul,’ says Illés. ‘They always say thank you, or they are crying, or we help them return bad memories.’ As if the universe has heard IMA’s call to prayer, the sun is setting as we leave the big top, taking with us a little aura of circus-infused calm into a bustling Budapest evening. 
Recirquel: IMA, Assembly Murrayfield Ice Rink, 4–27 August, times vary.