Medrano 1937

Revised Text (Improved English Rendering)

Medrano 1937 — Tristan Rémy, eminent French critic

However, it was necessary that the example of the Frattini be forgotten beneath later successes, and that it should not hinder the work of those who followed them. Without doubt, the various gifts of the Cairoli—masters in buffoonery, juggling, musical comedy, eccentric dancing, burlesque tinged with naïveté, mimicry full of mischief—give their entrées a density and continuous movement.

The gags unfold and sweep the spectators, even the harshest of them, into hilarity.
To achieve such results, Jean-Marie has worked patiently on the same entrées for twenty years. The clown repertoire, though limited, is broad enough to allow every temperament to express itself within it. But a good clown only attains mastery through deep knowledge of the original theme and its development over the years.

In the first part of the jubilee programme, Jean-Marie evokes a clown of 1900. He is as much at ease with his son Philippe as with a traditional Auguste. Although newborn as a character in 1900, the type is already fully formed: an affected simpleton with giant cuffs and a bow tie as large as his gloves. Jean-Marie, in his interpretation—made heavier by exaggerated mimicry, coarse sallies and out-of-date gestures—reveals, in just a few touches, the path travelled by clowns since Footit.

This becomes even clearer when he plays, in the second half, the role of a modern clown. Colletto (Charlie) is so close to his brother Philippe that he compliments, relays, and supports him. They are two legs upon which the act moves from one line to another.
Watching them, one never feels the sense of awkwardness that so often afflicts ill-assorted trios. If Philippe juggles with anything he finds, Colletto juggles with his own limbs. It is yet another surprise for the circus world that Charlie has shown that the human body itself can bring new life to the clown entrée. His legs, arms, and feet are constant sources of astonishment and enrich his personal repertoire with countless gags.

“La Voyante” — The Clairvoyant Lady

Cairoli plays the hypnotist; Porto is the “extra-lucid voice.” The way Jean-Marie poses his questions gives clues to the right answers. For example: “What is the colour of Henry IV’s white horse?”

A slate is handed around for the public to write questions. Colletto, hidden among the spectators, seizes it and writes down a number. Porto will give the correct answer because Cairoli discreetly taps him on the head with a small bat. Colletto writes “7365.” Cairoli begins tapping Porto’s head. Brought abruptly back to reality, Porto rips off his blindfold and charges furiously at the culprit.

The Nurse

Porto, dressed as a nanny, has taken his seat in the stalls. As soon as Cairoli begins to speak, Porto’s baby, held in his arms, starts to cry.
“Stop it, my little angel—you’re going to be entertained,” says Porto.
The baby only cries louder.

Cairoli interrupts again, showing impatience.
“It’s not my fault,” replies Porto. “I’m doing what I can—why don’t you take my place?”

Another sign of irritation from Cairoli. Porto soon grows indignant and assumes the position of the persecuted victim: mania of persecution, slight folie douce, irritability, verbal incontinence, jerky gestures, nervous agitation.
The spectators are witnessing the finest parade of comical attitudes.

Porto now begins arguing with a spectator beside him about the child. The neighbour refuses to take part. Porter explodes again in irritation. Cairoli attempts, without success, to show the “nurse” that she is preventing him from doing his act.

This is too much for Porto. He calls upon all the saints he knows, consigns the clown to damnation, his shoulders trembling, chin thrust forward, appealing to the audience as witnesses.

“You’re lucky I’m a woman—the mother of this child—and that my husband isn’t here! You wouldn’t dare do what you’re doing if I were a man!”



Porto stamps, hands the child to the unwilling neighbour, and threatens to climb over the barrier into the ring to confront the clown, who is himself left speechless by such an outburst.

This is no longer a simple parody, nor the usual caricature of a strict nanny, but a full-blown charge: an extravagant satire of an old maid, vehement and boiling over.