Cirque Du Soleil - Alegria

London's John Labatt Centre has been good to me this year. First Backstreet Boys, then Walking With Dinosaurs, then KISS, and now Cirque Du Soleil: Alegria, which is most likely the best of them all. Rather than try to explain anything about why it was so good, I am just going to try to figure out why I felt the way I did.

Emotion: Surprise
I know that it's called "Cirque" Du Soleil, but I didn't expect it to be so much like a circus, with various acrobatic acts intermittent with laugh-out-loud clown antics. Then again, it's different and unique enough to differentiate from a traditional circus. The focus on the performative aspects of the music is one particular stand-out. We are introduced early on to the musicians, and the main singer is one of the central characters.

Emotion: Amazement/Infant-like Wonder
This one barely went away. During nearly all of the non-comedy acts, the performers demonstrated incredible talent and skill as they performed their particular acrobatics. These acts followed similar structures, where one feat would be accomplished, leaving everyone breathless. Then, the performer would perform an even more complex or dangerous maneuver, successfully one-uping their previous movements, leaving the audience similarly amazed, and hungry for more. The design of the show keeps a great pace, with near-constant stimulation, rarely keeping the focus on one image for too long.

Emotion: Confusion
I had no idea what the hell was going on. The show begins with an un-announced pantomime that took a lot of people awhile to notice, preferring to keep chattering. Personally, I was transfixed on the performers, trying to figure out who they were, or what they represented. Despite my intense focus, I still didn't understand. I spent the rest of the show trying to enjoy, rather than "get" what I was watching. This mostly worked except for the act before the intermission, where one clown gets a hug from an invisible person, is slipped a note, reads the note, rips it up, gets snowed on, and then gets caught in a blizzard. You now understand it as much as I did. Also, during certain segments, there is a ton going on. In a less artistic setting, I would likely use the word "clusterfuck." In these scenarios, it's hard to know where to look, and there's a constant nervousness that you're going to miss the most amazing part.

Emotion: Guilt
For one thing, I felt guilty that I didn't understand what was going on. I was aware that a lot of planning had gone into a story, but even the most basic themes went over my head. I also felt a weird kind of guilt when I was watching the more dangerous high-rope acts, as though these people shouldn't have been putting their lives on the line for my enjoyment. I kept wanting to say "no, guys, you really don't have to" and felt intensely relieved when everyone was safe on the ground. Thirdly, I felt immensely guilty any time I felt bored. This didn't happen often, but when it did, it was because of a kind of display that I just wasn't particularly engaged in. Because of the grounded humanity of a "Cirque" performance, you cannot ignore that this is a person performing for you, hence feeling really bad about not necessarily enjoying every second of it.

Rating: 5.0 stars