This fellow Unus, new to the Circus this year, possesses a remarkable right forefinger which he combines with a remarkable sense of balance to perpetrate some strange and wondrous feats. To be precise, he places his right forefinger on a globe-shaped object which is attached by a rod to a table that stands about three feet above the ground. On his right forefinger Unus then proceeds to stand. This is the basic formation, but it has a number of variations, the final and most terrifyingly delightful one taking place at a considerably greater distance from the ground, and involving Unus in constant motion as he causes various rings, one placed on each of his legs, another on his free arm, and, it seemed, at least two others, to whirl rapidly.

Except for the Great Unus, along with the Great Lamberti and the Great Alzanas, this year's Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus has little out of the ordinary to offer, which is not a particularly damning criticism if you happen to be entertained by polar bears, clowns, horses, acrobats, dancing girls, lions, aerialists, or unicycle riders. These standard items have been produced with aplomb, magnificence, smoothness, showmanship, and noisy music, leaving little to be nostalgically longed after by circus devotees except possibly the Wallendas, who used to ride bicycles across high wires.

But the Great Alberti and the Great Alzanas more than counterbalance the absent Great Wallendas. They even counterbalance the present Great Rose Gould, a highly publicized aerialist who does little more than hold on tightly to a rope as she plummets earthwards. Alberti stands on his head on a 50-feet pole and, as the audience watches in silent dismay, causes the pole to sway back and forth. Alzanas skips rope on a high wire, his father standing 40 feet below in the interest of safety, if you can call it that. He indulges one of history's most perverse senses of humor by appearing periodically as if he is about to fall. Maybe he wasn't joking. If he wasn't, the man is an idiot.