THEATER REVIEW : Le Cirque Invincible : Chaplin and Thierree Are Masters of Their Mom-and-Pop ‘Circus’

She seldom smiles, he seldom frowns. Her hair is long and dark; he has a white, frizzy mop-top. She’s a dancer, a daredevil, a one-woman zoo. He’s a magician, a juggler, a clown.

Together, they’re “Le Cirque Invisible” (The Invisible Circus) now visible at La Jolla Playhouse, opening the 1995 season.

This is a mom-and-pop circus, beguiling from beginning to end. Victoria Chaplin (a daughter of Charles Chaplin, a granddaughter of Eugene O’Neill) and Jean Baptiste Thierree, who are married to each other, are the only humans performing here. Though their 21-year-old son reportedly appears in some of their engagements, he won’t be in La Jolla.

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Not that Chaplin and Thierree are completely alone. At the end of the first act, they’re joined by ducks, rabbits and birds. And we shouldn’t forget the backstage crew that keeps the parade of fanciful costumes and effects coming out on cue.

Still, as far as the audience can see, Chaplin and Thierree appear to do virtually everything. They’re more invincible than invisible.

Before the show starts, somber music plays and a blue ring on the stage glows ominously. But then Thierree enters and within seconds the audience is laughing out loud.

The man has a perpetual glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Comparisons to Harpo Marx are probably inevitable, at least for American audiences. But most of us know Harpo Marx only through his movies, while here Thierree maintains an ever-watchful eye on his in-the-flesh audience--which keeps us watching him just as attentively. He hardly ever speaks, but he sometimes uses his tongue to punctuate facial expressions.

Most of Thierree’s gags involve an element of surprise and are probably best left undiscussed here. Occasionally he flings objects our way or asks us to assist him as a group, from our seats, but he never singles out audience volunteers.

Thierree is a gifted clown, but his work isn’t as unusual as Chaplin’s. Her first appearance is in a floor-length gown that’s as rigid as a straitjacket. The gown soon swallows her up. But she’s not its prisoner--she makes it march around the stage.

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In her next several appearances (usually alternating with Thierree) she doesn’t just animate her inanimate costumes and other objects, but she transforms them into strange-looking creatures. A group of cane chairs becomes a series of wild animals when she balances them in various formations. A hoop skirt becomes a horse.

Occasionally her own clothes and props appear to attack her. In one memorable moment she “bleeds” to death, using lots of red fabric.

After intermission she displays more traditional circus skills. She walks a low wire and prompts the biggest gasp of the evening on a high rope swing. She folds herself into an impossibly small box that’s wheeled around the stage.

Although Thierree and Chaplin usually do their acts separately, she consents to be sectioned by him and assists with the actual livestock that appear on stage in his magic act. He in turn helps guide her rope swing. In one of his bits, he furiously chops vegetables, the pieces of which fly across the stage; then, in her next appearance, she turns into a peacock that gets to munch on the unswept veggies.

They unite for the grand finale--probably the most unusual bicycle act you’ll ever see, for it depends on the appearance of Rube Goldberg-like collections of disassembled bicycle parts as much as on the performers’ riding skills.

Chaplin designed the costumes, which could be the heftiest wardrobe ever for a two-person show. There is a different exotic outfit for each scene, and many of them double as props or, in her case, serve as animals as well. Although the idea of a two-person circus may sound austere, you would never know it from the extravagant colors of the costumes.

Chaplin selected the recorded music, which hums and throbs and soars throughout the evening (unfortunately, there are no musical credits in the program). Occasionally she also creates music, as in a scene where she makes melodies by wearing and striking kitchen objects. In one especially funny bit, Thierree and a trio of singing puppets on his boots and his rear-end lip-sync a selection from Bizet’s “The Pearl Fishers.” Yes, this circus has puppets, too.

Thierree’s program bio says he “ponders a curious fact: without Senator McCarthy, who in the fifties made the Chaplin family leave the United States, Le Cirque Invisible probably would not exist and would not perform today at La Jolla Playhouse. Was this the secret intention of this senator? Those politicians are so strange!” And believe me, Thierree knows strange when he sees it.

Of course, they say Washington is a circus. L.A. too, for that matter. Let’s hope that Chaplin, who was born in Santa Monica, can return to the L.A. area with this strange and shimmering “Invisible Circus.”

* “Le Cirque Invisible” (The Invisible Circus), La Jolla Playhouse at Mandell Weiss Theatre, 2910 La Jolla Village Drive. Tuesdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Ends June 11. $23-$34. (619) 550-1010. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes.