The first time I heard of Cirque du Soleil was over thirty years ago when a tent went up in, I think, Santa Monica. It was the talk of the town, and everyone was doing whatever they could to get a seat inside that colorful tent. There was a long-hair flying man, swinging and soaring his muscular frame over our heads on long strips of silk hanging down from the center of that round stage, and he was an overnight sensation in an entertainment town that was filled to overflowing with celebrities. It was an exciting import from Montreal, and I was hooked.
Cirque du Soleil’s OVO. Photo by Vlad Lorenzo.
I saw a few more shows, over the years, in tents set up in Battery Park and in a couple of Las Vegas casinos when my friends gathered together to celebrate my 40th birthday. The shows were always something to celebrate and get excited about. Cirque du Soleil’s Ovo is no different in that respect. This show, first premiering in Montréal in April 2009 and has toured more than 30 cities in 6 different countries as a Big Top show before transforming into an arena show in 2016, has popped itself up on Long Island at the UBS Arena in Elmont, NY, and although I was very much missing the iconic tent that usually houses these spectaculars, the arena had everything we could have hoped for, including the easiest commute from New York City
I was curious but not bubbling over with excitement like I had been before when I attended a Cirque du Soleil show, but what made this special is that my plus one was someone who had never seen one of the many Cirque du Soleil shows that seem to travel themselves all over North America and the World. It was hard to believe that I found a circus virgin, but it certainly made the event far more special.
The show starts with a gigantic Egg on stage, huge and obscuring much of the performance space from view. The mysterious object from the outside world is an inexplicable enigma in the eyes of the insects (and a nod to the monolith from the Kubrick film 2001) that disappears in f a flash, wowing the child within and those around me. Ovo, in a way, feels like a show aimed more towards children than adults. And there were numerous families seated all around us eating up every moment of this colorful insect-themed extravaganza. One young boy, seated somewhere behind me, fell in love with the word “color” and proceeded to, adoringly, say the word every time something amazed his eyes. The sentiment was infectious to the two of us, taking in his amazement and shifting our focus on the clowning aspect of the show that, to be honest, always wore me out a bit. I was there for the thrilling aerial and gymnastic displays, but this youngster added a different lens that enhanced the experience, more than I think I even realized at the time.
The show is a bit more straightforward than many, trying a bit less to impose a more mystical narrative on the in-between moments. And even as it played up some pretty heteronormative acts of courtship and attraction between some goofy creatures and a large leg, the clowning seemed cute and harmless, albeit a tad pedestrian. Part of me wanted something more fascinating than a sassy simplistic ladybird playing hard to get, but it was hypnotizing these kids all around me, as it was intended.
With an army of grasshoppers and ants, dressed exotically in costumes by Liz Vandal, working hard as a totally efficient team of workers, the acts come, one after the other, forming circus moments that are meant to amaze and fill us with awe. The number of times the crowd gasped with wonder was uncountable, yet I always wonder, when watching a Cirque du Soleil show, whether we are actually cheering for the hardest or most difficult moments. Or are we just clapping for the ones that ‘seem’ the most difficult and sensational? I’d love to ask the performers, wondering if they might point out different, more complex moments in their acts that seem less difficult from the outside looking in, but are in fact very difficult and completely complex.
In OVO, spiders swing through the air with the greatest of ease against a spectacularly designed backdrop filled with organic images and ever-evolving scenarios designed magically by Gringo Cardia with superb lighting by Eric Champoux, giving us stunning moments of creativity and dexterity that ignite our senses and wonderment. Cocoons unveil majestic butterflies, and scarabs fling themselves through the air. Creatures bounce themselves off walls returning to solid perpendicular structures that seem to be on different planes, defying gravity and our sense of balance. Other insects; butterflies and spiders, spring up from below, twisting themselves into positions on top of a climbing twisting framework of forms, or on a grey rock that excites the crickets, but causes my back to hurt. They throw themselves and others through the air, daring us to imagine the impossible by tumbling and flipping like bouncing fleas in somersaults that astound.
Directed by Brazilian choreographer, Deborah Coker, the parade of carnival athletics is more physical than contemporary dance, with a vocal performance that floats in and out beautifully, but not as often as I remember from other shows. OVO is a family-friendly astonishment, worthy of the wonderment of all the children that sat hypnotized by the acts of flexible courageous acrobatics, athleticism, and agility. If I hadn’t been with a newbie to Cirque du Soleil, or been surrounded by amazed (and well-behaved) children, I’m not sure I would have been as engaged as I was. I think I was spoiled when I saw “O” in Las Vegas, which I think was by far the most magical of Cirque du Soleil shows that I have seen. And although I missed the colorful tent experience, OVO was a spectacular worthy of the LIRR ride from Grand Central Station.
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