Cirque de Soleil’s Amaluna Dazzles. And Fizzles.
by Evelyn Reid
Originally published on About.com April 26, 2012
On the outside, it seems like performance art reviewers have a plush job. It is when a show is a triumph. But what about when it’s not?
With that being said, I could tell you Amaluna is dazzling, electrifying, magical, and exquisite, close the critique with an exclamation point, and ensure my invitation to the next hottest party.
Or, I could take the road less traveled and tell you what I saw.
Above: the Peacock Goddess (images courtesy of Cirque du Soleil).
I saw a “peacock dance” featuring an elegant dancer in a comely costume which paints a lovely picture, yes, but the choreography was akin to beginner level contemporary dance, a routine so elementary, so basic, I could have reproduced the drawn-out scene with two days practice. Maybe less. And I’m not a professional dancer. (Does two years of ballet jazz count?) Meanwhile, I had to elbow my soirée companion back into the world of the woken after spotting him doze off midway through. I’d already seen eight different Cirque shows at this point in my career and yet I’ve never seen anyone literally fall asleep mid-performance.
Maybe the low difficulty level of the dance wouldn’t have been so jarring if my seats weren’t selling for $225, what you would roughly cough up for two premium Broadway seats in New York. But under the Cirque’s Big Top, that buys you last row.
Above: the Balance Goddess (image courtesy of Cirque du Soleil).
“Here’s the good news. I also saw two scenes the equivalent of time-suspended magic, one a balancing act involving a voluptuous “balance goddess” manipulating palm leaf ribs with her feet like a deva, the audience following along as she shared her every breath with the Big Top, controlled exhales like a lover’s heartbeat pressed against one’s ear followed by a faint chime breaking through the suspense.
Thirteen suspended ribs later, the goddess destroys her labored creation with a simple flick, removing its tiniest link. Its seemingly most insignificant piece is as powerful as its largest. The blond amazon elicited a standing ovation.
That, my friends, is Cirque du Soleil.”
Here’s the good news. I also saw two scenes the equivalent of time-suspended magic, one a balancing act involving a voluptuous “balance goddess” manipulating palm leaf ribs with her feet like a deva, the audience following along as she shared her every breath with the Big Top, controlled exhales like a lover’s heartbeat pressed against one’s ear followed by a faint chime breaking through the suspense.
Thirteen suspended ribs later, the goddess destroys her labored creation with a simple flick, removing its tiniest link. Its seemingly most insignificant piece is as powerful as its largest. The blond amazon elicited a standing ovation.
That, my friends, is Cirque du Soleil.
Three acts later comes the tight wire, a scene representing lovers living a delicate balancing act: two men in white, two braided women in ’20s flapper wear. Tight wires are positioned just a few feet from the ground. One gentleman tumbled twice, unscathed, which did little to take away from the scene’s creativity and execution, four wires set up in the shape of a lozenge with its walkers speedily trekking by, sometimes in heels. And ballet pointe. Near the end, spinning helicopter seeds covered them like rose petals falling to the floor.
The act could have been cut by a minute or two, tightening the pace and by extension, heightening its wonder-inducing effect, but it was near close to perfect, music, falls and all. Yet another surreal, eerie, signature Cirque moment it was, proposing artistic and acrobatic creativity wrapped in worldly insight.
What’s unfortunate is how few and far between these moments are in Amaluna. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of oh-my-god-wow for $225? I sighed in disbelief that this was the same troupe who produced Saltimbanco, one of the Cirque earliest shows which left me in awe as a youth, one beaming with pride that a once-tiny troupe from Quebec, my home, showed the entire world what our proverbial village can do.
The rest of Amaluna’s acts, and I say this will all due respect to its obviously incredible performers, were been-there-seen-that if you’ve ever seen a Cirque show before, from the Chinese poles to the aerial straps and hoop. Same deal, different costume.
Cirque du Soleil: A Drop in Difficulty
The bar appears lowered in terms of technical complexity, creative innovation, and execution as Cirque productions get pumped out faster than ever by the circus juggernaut, giving performers less time to perfect moves or engage in more complex choreography. The company has been around for close to 26 years and yet just over one-third of its productions were released in the last four alone.
As for Amaluna‘s storyline, it’s loosely based on Shakespeare’s The Tempest—Queen of the Goddesses loves daughter, daughter transitions from girl to woman, daughter falls in love, daughter and lover are separated against their will, daughter and lover reunite as Queen watches from a distance—and yet it was oddly unengaging, unevenly paced, dare I say unromantic. The male lead, Romeo, was missing the passion I expect from a man in love who will stop at nothing to reunite with his sweetheart.
Considering how much talent is involved in the making of Amaluna, not least its illustrious Tony Award-winning director Diane Paulus helming the production, is the problem here overly tight deadlines, too few days to make the show gel prior to release?
Mind you, people who’ve never once attended a Cirque production likely won’t have the same perception as someone who’s seen eight different Cirque shows on stage. Few experiences are quite so remarkable as witnessing a Cirque du Soleil performance under the Big Top for the first time.
Cirque de Soleil’s Amaluna Dazzles. And Fizzles.
by Evelyn Reid
Originally published on About.com April 26, 2012
Above: Amaluna’s Amazons (images courtesy of Cirque du Soleil).
On the outside, it seems like performance art reviewers have a plush job. It is when a show is a triumph. But what about when it’s not?
With that being said, I could tell you Amaluna is dazzling, electrifying, magical, and exquisite, close the critique with an exclamation point, and ensure my invitation to the next hottest party.
Or, I could take the road less traveled and tell you what I saw.
Above: Amaluna’s “Peacock Goddess” (images courtesy of Cirque du Soleil).
I saw a “peacock dance” featuring an elegant dancer in a comely costume which paints a lovely picture, yes, but the choreography was akin to a beginner level contemporary dance, a routine so elementary, so basic, I could have reproduced the drawn-out scene with two days practice. Maybe less. And I’m not a professional dancer. (Does two years of ballet jazz count?) Meanwhile, I had to elbow my soirée companion back into the world of the woken after spotting him doze off midway through. I’d already seen six different Cirque shows at this point in my career and yet I’ve never seen anyone literally fall asleep mid-performance.
Maybe the low difficulty level of the dance wouldn’t have been so jarring if my seats weren’t selling for $225, what you would roughly cough up for two premium Broadway seats in New York. But under the Cirque’s Big Top, that buys you last row.
Above: Amaluna’s “Balance Goddess” (photo courtesy of Cirque du Soleil).
Here’s the good news. I also saw two scenes the equivalent of time-suspended magic, one a balancing act involving a voluptuous “balance goddess” manipulating palm leaf ribs with her feet like a deva, the audience following along as she shared her every breath with the Big Top, controlled exhales like a lover’s heartbeat pressed against one’s ear followed by a faint chime breaking through the suspense.
Thirteen suspended ribs later, the goddess destroys her labored creation with a simple flick, removing its tiniest link. Its seemingly most insignificant piece is as powerful as its largest. The blond amazon elicited a standing ovation.
That, my friends, is Cirque du Soleil.
Three acts later comes the tight wire, a scene representing lovers living a delicate balancing act: two men in white, two braided women in ’20s flapper wear. Tight wires are positioned just a few feet from the ground. One gentleman tumbled twice, unscathed, which did little to take away from the scene’s creativity and execution, four wires set up in the shape of a lozenge with its walkers speedily trekking by, sometimes in heels. And ballet pointe. Near the end, spinning helicopter seeds covered them like rose petals falling to the floor.
The act could have been cut by a minute or two, tightening the pace and by extension, heightening its wonder-inducing effect, but it was near close to perfect, music, falls and all. Yet another surreal, eerie, signature Cirque moment it was, proposing artistic and acrobatic creativity wrapped in worldly insight.
What’s unfortunate is how few and far between these moments are in Amaluna. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of oh-my-god-wow for $225? I sighed in disbelief that this was the same troupe who produced Saltimbanco, one of the Cirque earliest shows which left me in awe as a youth, one beaming with pride that a once-tiny troupe from Quebec, my home, showed the entire world what our proverbial village can do.
The rest of Amaluna’s acts, and I say this will all due respect to its obviously incredible performers, were been-there-seen-that if you’ve ever seen a Cirque show before, from the Chinese poles to the aerial straps and hoop. Same deal, different costume.
Above: Amaluna’s tightwire rope act (photo courtesy of Cirque du Soleil).
Cirque du Soleil: A Drop in Difficulty
The bar appears lowered in terms of technical complexity, creative innovation, and execution as Cirque productions get pumped out faster than ever by the circus juggernaut, giving performers less time to perfect moves or engage in more complex choreography. The company has been around for close to 26 years and yet just over one-third of its productions were released in the last four alone.
As for Amaluna‘s storyline, it’s loosely based on Shakespeare’s The Tempest—Queen of the Goddesses loves daughter, daughter transitions from girl to woman, daughter falls in love, daughter and lover are separated against their will, daughter and lover reunite as Queen watches from a distance—and yet it was oddly unengaging, unevenly paced, dare I say unromantic. The male lead, Romeo, was missing the passion I expect from a man in love who will stop at nothing to reunite with his sweetheart.
Considering how much talent is involved in the making of Amaluna, not least its illustrious Tony Award-winning director Diane Paulus helming the production, is the problem here overly tight deadlines, too few days to make the show gel prior to release?
Mind you, people who’ve never once attended a Cirque production likely won’t have the same perception as someone who’s seen eight different Cirque shows on stage. Few experiences are quite so remarkable as witnessing a Cirque du Soleil performance under the Big Top for the first time.
