Writing A Book for Cirque Du Soleil's QUIDAM

I've written before about my experiences seeing Cirque Du Soleil and how I am very curious about the shows' musical theatre tendencies without strongly committing to it. I get it-- the show is, at the end of the day, a circus. But as this latest revival of Pippin has proven, a circus can have a story, and a story can take place within a circus.

Last night, a friend and I had the privilege of being invited to see Cirque Du Soleil's latest tour in New York, Quidam. The acrobatics and physical performances were incredible, to be sure, but the story was hard to comprehend. I would say this doesn't matter, but even as people were building pyramids and unraveling from a sheet many feet in the air, there were always characters about, chasing one another in the background or descending from the ceiling as others performed. Clearly, there's enough of a story element there that they wanted to connect the scenes with, but what it tells is a mystery.

The only thing we can determine for sure is that there is a young girl who is ignored by her parents, so she dons a hat given to her by a headless stranger and enters a strange world of acrobats (Is that Quidam? Is Quidam a place? A state of mind? It certainly was sung several times over the stage bows). Beyond that premise, who knows what was happening half the time. Here are some theories to try to explain the book that tied together some of the things we saw:

• My friend hypothesized that the imaginative world was hell in the first act, heaven in the second. Or I could argue that there was a Dante 9 circles-esque thing going throughout most of it, with the Mom, Dad and daughter calmly emerging on the other side at the end. Still, they seemed pretty chummy with all the cast members at the end so maybe it was more of a Labyrinth-type situation.
• A group of minions dressed all in white (who also strangely act like seals) decide to separate the parents from the little girl so they can teach them the importance of acknowledging their child. 
• A white cat-like creature that tumbles in and out of the scenes is a Cheshire Cat archetype meant to lead and simultaneously confuse everyone (most of all, me). 
• A purple character named John is a creepy host figure. My friend hypothesizes he's the devil. I read somewhere he might be a father figure since he literally steals the dad's shoes and steps into them. 
• Balloons symbolize innocence? There sure were a lot of them in there, and they were always held by the little girl. At one point someone tries to catch one in a cage? So maybe all these strange characters are trying to preserve her sense of wonder? 
• At one point during the statue routine, where two acrobats were meticulously balancing on one another, some strange figures descended from the ceiling. Both wore white robes. One looked like it was crying blood. I'd like to say I have a theory on this one. Nope, I got nothing. That just happened. 
• The last act of the night was the Banquine routine, with everyone dressed up like especially destitute Newsies. Newsies, in Quidam, don't just soak the competition. They throw young girls at them, and then subsequently catch them on their shoulders.

All joking aside, I will say that the physical feats and great production values of a Cirque Du Soleil show never fails to impress. Not to get all heavy, but especially in light of the performer who died in Ka in Las Vegas not too long ago, it's important that we not take for granted the immense talents people bring to these shows and the risks they take to share them. For those who can make it, enjoy Quidam and all the great stunts it has to offer. Just don't try too hard to decode why a girl in antlers might be chasing a guy with twig-woven wings around the stage during the interludes.

Thoughts on Zarkana and Cirque du Soleil's Not-quite Musical Theatre

A week ago, I was invited to see a performance of Cirque du Soleil's latest offering at Radio City Music Hall, Zarkana.

Cirque du Soleil? you say. But this is a musical blog! Talking about this show here makes no sense and it makes me angry!!

Whoa, it's all good, I says. Just hear me out...

I have very limited experience with Cirque du Soleil, but I do remember my parents going to a performance in Vegas on a vacation when I was small. I flipped through the program when they got back to the hotel room and was shocked at (and honestly kind of scared of) some of the images in there. There was something about the aesthetic that was so out there -- colorful, at times grotesque, shapely like a reflection in a funhouse mirror -- that was captivating. And when my mom told me those things were actually doing crazy stunts and getting all up in the audiences' business, I actually got a little concerned.

Fast-forward another 12 years or so to this past fall, when my grandparents surprised my parents and I with tickets to Cirque du Soleil's Ka on a vacation in Vegas (full circle! -- and I just realized this makes it sound like the ONLY place I ever go to is Vegas). I had no idea what I was in for, which now when I think about it, was a good thing. Because once the lights dimmed and some of the creepy looking clown things stopped doing the pre-show audience thing (which made me incredibly uncomfortable), I was completely riveted until the lights came up again. Everything about it was enthralling -- the story, of a separated brother and sister trying to flee the enemies who killed their parents and find one another again, was simple but exciting, the stunts and acrobatics were like a video game with every "level" posing as some kind of stunt that they must defeat, and the set was stunning. I remember seeing the stage rotating, a giant ship appearing out of nowhere or a giant sandbox seeming to form out of nothing, and I was so inspired that someone would invest the time, space, and money to create something so theatrical and physically mammoth.

My experience seeing Zarkana last week was a little more mixed. While the acrobatics were still dizzyingly impressive and the aesthetic was still breathtaking, there was something keeping it from being as jaw-dropping as I remembered Ka being.

And what it was lacking was a strong narrative.

From my limited knowledge of Cirque du Soleil, Zarkana, in some ways, is more traditional musical theatre than its other shows. There is a protagonist, Zark, who has a simple problem: he is looking for his lost love amidst a bunch of crazy, tempting creatures. Or something like that. The show also featured full-fledged operatic-rock songs that Zark sang to tell his story of despair and longing, though the lyrics left something to be desired.

This past week on Crazytown, I wrote a post about being able to incorporate more visual elements into a more language/dialogue-heavy show. But how do you approach the challenge of doing it the other way around -- building a story and music around physical stunts?

There were moments of great beauty that came from Zarkana. I was particularly fixated on a dance/gymnastics routine that seemed to flow with the music quite seamlessly, and I heard multiple oohs and ahhs from the audience when a sand artist both recapped and foreshadowed the story through beautiful temporal pictures. Those fleeting segments especially worked because they embraced the storytelling aspects of theatre, fusing spectacle with story and song. I'm not calling Cirque du Soleil outright (or even great) musical theatre, but with all its resources and talents, if it truly aspired to be, it could be one badass show.