Quidam
The circus is much more a part of everyday life on the Continent than it is in Britain. Nowadays, the only circus performances I see advertised in Glasgow are around Christmas time, and the last time I saw any on British television must date back to the 70s (which is also about the last time I saw a circus performance live). French television, on the other hand, rarely passes a week without some channel or other putting on a prime-time show around circus acts, and there's always one touring around somewhere in the country. Of course, Cirque du Soleil is not exactly your common or garden touring provincial circus, and this is the first time I've been in the right place at the right time, with ticket availability, to see one of their celebrated shows. It's certainly not in Scotland that seems likely to happen any time soon.
Quidam is one of their earlier shows. The binding thread is a little girl, somewhat neglected by her distant parents, who encounters a strange, headless character, distinctly reminiscent of a Magritte figure, with a long overcoat, umbrella and a blue bowler hat, which the girl picks up, and which turns out to be the portal to a world of fantasy and whimsy. Behind all this, of course, is a seamless succession of circus acts - without animals, it's always been a principal of Cirque du Soleil - of a more or less familiar type, but presented with style and imagination, and with a troupe that combines dance, gymnastics, acrobatics and mime to remarkable effect.
Here are no grotesque clowns to scare children - in fact the clowns are often the most natural looking of all the characters we see on stage - no tedious slapstick, falling trousers and custard pies. The humour can be perfectly obvious, and mildly crude - the silent-movie director was making himself quite clear - but also quietly entertaining. I think my favourite moment was when "John", the closest thing the show has both to an MC and a white-face clown, is playing with a metal hoop when the lights suddenly go out. There's a metallic clang, followed by a plaintive "Ow!" in the dark.
The show's a little imbalanced, in that the first act is substantially longer than the second. There's a faint air of the school playground in the first half, with the Diabolo and Skipping Ropes numbers, while Zoë (the little girl) in the background plays on swings, or tosses a ball around with other characters. The first part focused perhaps more on dexterity and agility (also featuring a juggling number, and two of the three aerial numbers), while the second part was more about equilibrium, and strength, with the Statue and Banquine numbers, amongst others. The result was that the second part came across as more demanding of the performers, and therefore more rewarding for the audience.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the music was being performed live. Cirque du Soleil is as famous for their custom-composed soundtracks as for their innovative presentation style, and the music has always sounded fairly complex, not to mention the amount of vocals in it. I was expecting it all to be pre-recorded, but while some of it probably was (the chorus, and some of the more stratospheric vocals, perhaps?) there was indeed a small band visible at the back of the stage area. Best musical item for me was the zydeco number that accompanied the Skipping Ropes act. I can't say any of it is sticking in my mind particularly, not even "Let Me Fall", which has gone on to have an independent life. However, a distinctive and colourful sound-world is very much a part of Cirque du Soleil's trademark, and this was no exception, and some wonderful images emerged - seeing "Quidam" (the mysterious, headless figure) salsa-ing gently across the back of the stage at one point was delightfully incongruous.
[Next : 16th February]
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