CIRQUE DE SOLEIL AMALUNA: AMAZEMENT BEYOND

We often watch events that celebrate the potential of the human body and the spirit that propels it. The Olympics was one such event. Another was one Collette and I attended over the weekend: Amaluna by Cirque de Soleil.

The show is loosely based on Shakespeare's The Tempest and while a lot of the elements were there (Prospero, Caliban, the storm) it really doesn't matter. There is a story here, recurring characters and conflict all packaged in state of the art lighting, colourful costumes and live music but really, you don't go to a show like this for the story. Well, I don't. I go for the performers and the stunts and yes, to see what humans are able to do.

We were informed as we entered the huge tent that hosts the show, that 70 per cent of Amaluna's performers are females, the highest ratio of any Cirque show.  And although were there some remarkable performances by men ... on a tightrope, on a climbing pole and an energetic group of acrobats who used a teeter totter in a way never attempted on any playground .. well not attempted more than once, without the presence of an ambulance .. some of the truly special moments in the shows did indeed come from women.

The vocalists and most of the band were women and in they became part of the show, some as characters, others just prowling the stage at given moments, a pair of women with their guitars slung low on their hips. It's a classical magic distraction of course; as we watched the band sets were being changed or apparatus rigged. That's all part of it, the sate was semi circular and most of the changes were done right before our eyes but there was always something else to watch

A group of women provided us with our own Olympics moment. Dressed in striking red and assuming postures of fierceness, these acrobats used a series of uneven bars, displaying strength grace and courage in a way I've never seen at a strict athletic event

In Las Vegas, Cirque de Soleil has a famous show called Eau that features huge tanks of water in which the performers, well, perform. Well we had our tiny version of that show. The tank in Amaluna is smaller but no less spectacular

The performer, the main female character, is an acrobat and contortionist and apparently half fish. We were in awe of the balancing she did on the rim of the tank, contorting her body into forms that I haven't seen maintained by a human since I stopped doing hallucinegetic drugs.

She would hurl herself down into the tank where the water was not especially deep, forming her body to the shape of the bowl, seemingly boneless and as fluid as the water in which she played.

One of the male performers, her love interest in the story also played in the water. While not quite as fluid as he love, he was still graceful. He displayed equal grace and strength in one of the story's most moving moments as he climbed and flowed around his pole, literally going up into the heavens to rescue his girl

One of the show's most remarkable moments, and the act that received the only standing ovation during the performance was, in comparison to all of the above, almost still. A woman in a long lame dress came out on the stage to stand barefoot amidst a pile of curved stick of various sizes. Standing quite still she balanced on one foot and used the other to pick up a stick, using this method, she began to assemble the sticks, balancing one against the other, using only their shapes to keep them together

It was a remarkable study in control, restraint and a physicality that wasn't as apparent as some of the other athletes. The music here was very soft, very restrained. The woman was on mic and you could hear her breathing, the engine that allowed her to keep her core still as she manipulated the sticks,

At the end she had assembled this amazing structure that was at leas six feet long and several feet wide. She held it up before taking one stick, the smallest stick, showing us the fragility of her structure as it fell to pieces on to the stage

There is an old theatrical concept called Pirandello, named after an Italian writer, a concept of which I am so fond I've named my video production company after it. It basically says that "I'm going to manipulate you, I'm going to make you cry, I'm going to force events to that result but I'm going to do it in such a way that by the end, when you cry, you'll have forgotten that I made you do it." It's manipulation and it's surprise and it's what Cirque and any good live event can give us: The right to be delighted even when we expected to be so

Sitting down before the show began I knew that I would see human being perform feats that would astound me. And I was astounded. In ways I couldn't anticipate. I knew it would happen and when it did, it was as if I never thought it could be done.