Where other circuses keep the audience at a distance, Cardiff’s NoFit State prefers to draw us up close, all the better to feel and hear the show’s beating heart.

There are no smoke and mirrors but an awful lot of sweat and passion as the performers fly through the air, heave scaffolding around and tumble through the crowds. The action moves from above to below, from side to side and one is never far from a rippling tendon or squat calf; it’s all intoxicatingly tangible.

The images created are pure poetry; a man soaring against the counterweight of a woman; a blonde in blood-red heels picking her way across a rope as high and precarious as any love affair; a chorus of figures illuminated by flames.

If there’s a narrative it’s as hazy as a dream. Performers speak manic French and flat, estuary English, a combination as peculiar as the costumes – 1930s bathing suits combined with leather kilts and cream skull caps that are both familiar and yet hard to place.

It gilds the astounding proceedings with a hallucinogenic sheen. By the time the show reaches its beautiful finale, anything seems possible.

This is magical, sensual circus – don’t miss it.