There’s a theory, popularised by Malcolm Gladwell, that 10,000 hours of practice is required to achieve world-class expertise. It comes to life in this show by one of Australia’s leading contemporary circus troupes, which was a hit at the recent Edinburgh and Adelaide Fringe festivals.

Directed by Lachlan Binns, Ten Thousand Hours is an exciting and playful representation of the Gravity & Other Myths rehearsal process, squeezed into one hour.

Gravity & Other Myths – Ten Thousand Hours. Photo © Andy Phillipson

It gathers eight circus performers dressed as if for training or rehearsal, though there’s a subtle unity and smartness about Olivia Zanchetta’s grey and muted blue costumes. Set and lighting by Chris Petredis sees them in a stylised, slightly moody take on their studio space.

There’s a bench seat, a few of those wheeled black-and-steel storage cases often found backstage, and a big digital clock upstage. Sometimes it’s just that, but this LED lighting element also keeps score during the show’s games and challenges, or is an abstract design.

All eyes are on the gravity-defying performers, however. They begin by simply walking before building on this action, and are soon two- then three-high human towers walking around, using shoulders as stepping stones.

The troupe moves to a composition by Nick Martyn and Shenzo Gregorio. The former plays drums live on stage and triggers lively electronic beats too.

Martyn also asks muscular performer Shani Stephens to repeat her warm-up, but with more energy and breakdance style, as well as whatever the audience suggests, which, on opening night, has her improvising takes on a chicken and bowl of spaghetti, as she reveals a flair for aerial cartwheels and rolls.

Gravity & Other Myths – Ten Thousand Hours. Photo © Darcy Grant

Ten Thousand Hours quickly engages the audience with fun routines such as this, instead of just leaving us in awe and feeling removed from these elite circus superhumans. Other playful highlights include a scene that recalls Pictionary, charades and Twister, with increasingly complex and amusing combinations of bodies.

We also feel drawn to the performers because of their camaraderie: the occasional pat on the back, quick hug and words of encouragement, which are usually confined to the hard slog of rehearsal.

While the odd move that doesn’t land is not uncommon in contemporary circus performances, Ten Thousand Hours offers more of a glimpse into what it takes to perfect moves through countless attempts in rehearsal.

The great strength, balance and coordination required for one two-man routine is apparent in their eight failed attempts out of 10. It’s another way of drawing us in.

Gravity & Other Myths – Ten Thousand Hours. Photo © Darcy Grant

The vast majority of Ten Thousand Hours shows off the jaw-dropping results of all the training and rehearsals, however. Again and again the performers make what is extraordinarily difficult look easy, and the seemingly impossible happen with barely a wobble.

There are precisely timed interweaving tumbles and dives, and a solo routine of fast flips that goes on longer than seems humanly possible. Bodies become swings, inverted arches and projectiles. Backs and legs support gasp-inducing human weight. We gasp again when a three-body-high tower leans forward precipitously, but it’s just a gliding single step down to sure-footed safety even for the uppermost performer.

Not every routine’s theme sticks. For example, one inspired by felines captures the self-assurance and friskiness of young cats, but is mostly far removed from how they actually move.

This is a minor flaw in a show that almost always thrills or delights, and often does both simultaneously. Whether you’re eight, 18 or 80, Ten Thousand Hours is immensely entertaining.

Gravity & Other Myths performs Ten Thousands Hours at Arts Centre Melbourne until 25 January.