Then shuffle around as a cheerful Josephine Were stumbles through the audience, laden with luggage, and wait for her to begin the poetic one-woman show that is Just Like The Movies.

Were’s piece takes inspiration from her solo trip across the USA, which she initially pegged as a snog-fest of American lads, only to discover less Hollywood realities. The poetry that she wrote during this time forms the backbone of the piece, as she moves from New York to San Francisco, picking up cowboys and hippies.

Rhyming performances can carry multiple pitfalls, but the delivery is far from annoying. Instead Were is warm, with a persistent and apparently genuine smile. We begin with close encounters on an aircraft, and are soothed by her rhythmic reflections on all the movie clichés that got away.

The space leaves little room for distraction or distance. The experiences on the road, while disconnected in some places, have a rambling that’s both knowing and nicely in time. How do you escape a sleazy hostel owner using rhyming descriptions of B.B King? Josephine Were will show you how.

Kudos should go to musical accompaniment by Matthew Gregan, who opens the show with an all-American tune and anchors Were’s poetry. More interaction between the two would perhaps give the piece a more cohesive feel.

A performance meant for a lounge room – this is a good thing. These observations aren’t meant for the masses but rather are secrets for the wise few who have chosen the place of audience. Check it out for the venue, the music and to live, vicariously, on the open American road.

The hour show begins without announcement. Casually dressed figures emerge from the darkness at the Meat Market, unpacking a mountain of cardboard boxes with the touch of ballet dancers. Yellow bulbs swing low, the tempo is sleepy. In a blink, a bolt of energy hits – and what follows is some of the most exciting displays of acrobatic skill on offer this Festival.

Freefall weaves in theatre and dance to create a forum for admissions -  about the performers’ fears, their embarrassments and the audience’s own worries. Impressive routines using hoops, acrobatics, partnered lifts, and juggling link together in a way that gives the audience, regardless of their circus knowledge, a feeling of empowerment.

Aged 16-30, the performers negotiate trust and anxiety while also grappling with audience-flummoxing routines. How scary is that flip? What will happen if this pose collapses? As they tangle and spill across the stage, their nerves feed the audience’s. The talented group pull off some poses  that are done with such ease they are worthy of disbelieving laughter. Even in moments of hesitation and visibly quivering muscles, three young people standing atop each other can’t get less impressive.

Not every trick sticks, but this increases the applause. After the group leaves one seemingly complex move unfinished on opening night, we’re offered a wink and a ‘You’ll have to see us next time  now,’ from the performers. The youth of the troupe and their clear camaraderie soften flawed attempts. Come to appreciate the tenacity and honesty that Freefall suggests are the basis for good circus and good life.