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TIME: Almanac 1995
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<text id=93TT1500>
<title>
Apr. 19, 1993: Show Business:Le Cirque Fantastique
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Apr. 19, 1993 Los Angeles
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 65
SHOW BUSINESS
Le Cirque Fantastique
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By RICHARD CORLISS
</p>
<qt>
<l>SHOW: Saltimbanco</l>
<l>TROUPE: Cirque Du Soleil</l>
<l>WHERE: A Yellow-and-Blue Tent in the Battery, New York City</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: Four words--greatest show on earth.
</p>
<p> Flash photography is forbidden at cirque du Soleil, the
master of ceremonies announces at the outset of its all new show
Saltimbanco, "because of the extreme danger it represents to the
people of our world." Our world? To anyone unfamiliar with the
previous spectacles of this Montreal-based big top--Le Cirque
Reinvente and Nouvelle Experience--the emcee's remark will
seem twee and pretentious. But he's not kidding. Their world is
beautiful, seductive, utterly otherly.
</p>
<p> Dream of a garden painted by Rousseau, under the canopy of
a huge Tiffany lampshade and inhabited by creatures from
Fellini's or Tim Burton's wittiest musings. In this Day-Glo,
candy-cane fantasia, the whole food chain is on display. The
roustabouts wriggle like worms; some of the featured artistes
are dressed as tigers or lizards. The clowns could be from a
Greenwich Village Halloween parade: Munchkins and bathing
beauties, Road Warriors and samurai. This is a circus even
Madonna could love--commedia dell'arte as restaged by
surrealists in a birthday-party mood.
</p>
<p> And all are invited to participate, at its Manhattan stop
or later this year in Chicago, Boston, Washington and Atlanta.
Saltimbanco (an Italian term meaning "street performer") will
leave no one untouched and few unprodded or untweaked. A
visitor may discover a sobbing clown in his lap or find herself
in an impromptu troupe of somersaulters. One gent was lured
onstage to safari through an invisible jungle, then high-noon
it in a sham shootout.
</p>
<p> This is also a real, one-ring circus, with acrobats, a
juggler, a high-wire tiptoer. And no animal acts; that would be
redundant, given all the exhibitions of gazelle grace and
leonine strength. Le Cirque evokes the three best responses from
a circus audience: "Gee, that clown's funny!" (when Rene
Bazinet, a talking mime, gets caught in a bathroom that becomes
an aquarium); "Hey, the human body can't do that!" (when one man
climbs a Chinese pole on sheer wrist power or descends using
only his thighs); and "Ooooh, that's beautiful!" (when four
aerialists do a bungee-cord ballet). But no artiste is allowed
to be a specialist. All must do double duty, as Harlequins or
chorus girls, to fit into the precise, giddy scheme devised by
director Franco Dragone and his team.
</p>
<p> Three of the star acts illustrate the show's underlying
theme: family. Twin sisters Sarah and Karyne Steben--Sharon
Stone in duplicate on the high bar--perform their mirror-image
calisthenics in a space as intimate as the womb. The brothers
Marco and Paulo Lorador bend their Apollonian physiques to some
wondrous heavy lifting. And the Tchelnokovs (Nikolai, his wife
Galina Karableva and their impossibly lithe son Anton, 7)
describe patterns of living sculpture that are less physical
than mystical. In the harmonious flow of their fearless feats,
these performers might be parents and siblings from another,
ideal world, where beauty is based on majestic trust.
</p>
<p> Forget the word circus; it conjures up nothing more
magical than slapstick and animal odors. The grand, ethereal
Cirque du Soleil is really primal theater--an age-old blend
of music and motion. The weirdly soothing, polylingual
background score, which could be elevator music at a harmonious
U.N., rolls out a verdant carpet of sound for all the pretty
beasts to strut on. At every moment, in every corner of the
Cirque world, stagecraft approaches genial witchcraft. It's an
out-of-Broadway experience.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>