Cirque du Soleil shines brightly with its eye-popping 'Varekai' Author: Joan Anderman, Globe Staff Writer
Twenty years after a troupe of French-Canadian street performers formed a small circus collective, Cirque du Soleil has become a global entertainment industry, with five touring companies and four resident shows in the United States. That this massive business continues to churn out spirited, whimsical, and endlessly exhilarating circus productions is frankly as astonishing as Irina the contortionist's vertebrae-defying poses. "Varekai" is no exception. It is loosely based on the Icarus myth: A young man plunges from the sky into a strange, distant world -- a magical maritime forest where impossible creatures scale giant swaying reeds and display fabulous acrobatic skills. There's a troubled but triumphant romantic subplot that vaguely connects to the ideas of journey and transformation, the underlying themes of "Varekai," which means "wherever" in the Romany language of the Gypsies. And journey these miraculously imagined beings do -- to a place where plotlines become secondary to total sensory saturation -- on springing stilts, in high-flying nets, launched from outsize swings, and whirled on silken ropes to the far reaches of the yellow-and-blue Grand Chapiteau. Pristinely designed and meticulously executed, "Varekai" weaves the company's signature blend of humor, daring, music, and theatrics in gratifying proportion. The costumes and makeup are enchanting, and this show would be a visual treat even if the troupe members simply struck poses in their coiled neon headdresses, painted metallic faces, and fleshy, flowing appendages. But the show is front-loaded with eye-popping physical feats: the show-opening "Flight of Icarus," which features the young protagonist furling and unfurling his body into impossible shapes within the confines of a net suspended 50 feet above the stage; the "Icarian Games," a human juggling act in which two pairs of brothers use their feet to catapult and catch each other in explosively choreographed flips; and the Triple Trapeze, on which four female acrobats redefine the notion of poetry in motion with a series of flowing aerial tableaux. Folded into the visual wonder are a handful of sensational clowning sequences. A talentless magician and his hapless assistant recruit an audience member to participate in their nonfunctional act. Later, the magician is transformed into a smarmy French lounge singer in a blue polyester tuxedo traversing the tent while struggling to stay in the wandering spotlight -- manned by the now-vengeful assistant. Act II of the 2 1/2-hour production -- there's a 25-minute intermission -- fails to match the seamless dramatic flow of Act I, but it does feature unforgettable moments. A disabled dancer performs an immensely stirring "Solo on Crutches," followed by "Aerial Straps," in which identical twin brothers clad in black satin half-leotards and feather headdresses are suspended by their wrists, high above the stage, where they twine and meld their bodies into stunning silhouettes. Two powerful vocalists roam the stage, anchoring a musical score that draws on a plethora of world music influences: Hawaiian ritual music, the songs of 11th-century French troubadours, traditional Armenian melodies, and gospel music. Frequent splashes of new age electronic rock threaten to dilute the otherwise evocative fusion, but this is the circus, after all. And all in all, the larger-than-life soundscapes enhance this fantastic voyage. © Copyright 2004 Globe Newspaper Company.. |
