What kind of person usually hangs out at cemeteries after dark? Ne’er-do-wells and wrong ‘uns usually but this is festival time so different rules apply.

The scope of Australian ensemble Circa’s performance is impressive. A black cloaked choir sing and a deadpan young girl warns us not to look back creating a sense of epic as a procession of theatregoers step into the unknown.

What we find lurking among the gravestones are acrobats with dead eyes contorting their bodies into impossible positions, glamorous women shaping their bodies in unnerving thrusts, all spookily underlit and accompanied by otherworldly music.

Particularly impressive is one acrobat, fresh from Bedlam, scaling a 20ft pole before plummeting almost to the bottom before gracefully catching himself. Spearmint Rhino this is not.

Everything becomes part of the performance, a sound engineer lurking in the dark becomes menacing, graves themselves seem to be on the cusp of movement. There are moments that are genuinely creepy, the hooded chorus turn off their flashlights and stand silent, a performer walks behind me, starts gently pushing my back while breathing monstrously.

The sense of being in a liminal world between living and dead is not always maintained. Naturally with only eight performances, organisers want as many people to see such an impressive show but sometimes it feels too crowded as the audience shuffles along narrow paths when really we want to be alone to discover the dead set free.

Also sometimes it can feel like you’re missing out on performances elsewhere in the graveyard with so much going on. Finally we come upon the final stage outside the chapel, atmospheric with smoke and lighting, beautiful young bodies dancing and panting. It’s a little bit Buffy but in a good way.

The closing dance is most impressive of all, zombie like dance moves followed by incredible acrobatic skills as performers are lifted and flung skyward. This show is good, dead good.