What sets Cirque du Soleil’s delightful ‘Kurios’ apart is its wonderful sense of humour

Kurios

Until July 17 under the Big Top at Ontario Place. cirquedusoleil.com

Back in Toronto after its first visit in 2014, Cirque du Soleil’s “Kurios: Cabinet of Curiosities” upholds its reputation as one of the company’s finest and most entertaining shows. What sets it apart is how thoroughly and thrillingly the creative team has imagined its steampunk-inspired setting. The set and props, costumes, wigs and makeup, lighting, sound, and music all come together under Michel Laprise’s direction to create a captivating framework for world-class circus acts.

The premise of the show is that a 19th-century inventor is searching for an alternative universe ruled by imagination and big dreams. This is established in pre-show activity in which he bustles about playing with fantastical machines and gadgets on Stéphane Roy’s set, as other whimsical characters help create atmosphere and interact with the audience. Somehow the inventor hits the jackpot when the clock strikes 11:11, and the rest of the performers burst onto the stage.

This is a version of the Industrial Revolution in which humans and animals are more integrated into technological advancement than in real life, as suggested by fanciful creatures who appear to be part-robot, part-centipede. The circus acts are drawn together through the theme of new inventions that enable human mobility, in particular trains and planes.

The inventor and a few other characters all representing intersections of humans and technology are present throughout the show, providing physicalized commentary on the circus acts. It’s a testament to the flexibility of Cirque du Soleil’s productions in that the character of Mini Lili, who I remember from the first time I saw the show and who remains in the cast, did not appear in the performance reviewed, and I doubt that anyone who didn’t know the show would have sensed an absence.

The program indicates more complexity in the inventor’s storyline than I discerned in the show itself, but that hardly matters. The character-driven activity and the design elements all come together to create an engaging context for the acts themselves, which present a wide range of circus skills. Live music and vocals by a five person band further helps draw the show together into a cohesive whole.

Gabriel Beaudoin reveals an amazing capacity to juggle mismatched objects without ever losing his cool, even when he’s suspended above the stage. In the show’s second half, Chih-Min Tuan offers a similar combination of hand-based physical dexterity and showmanship in his yo-yo act.

One of the most thoroughly realized acts in terms of storytelling features is the hand balancer Andrii Bondarenko. He initially appears at a Victorian dinner party séance and builds a tower of chairs upwards towards a parallel version of the séance being played out upside down high above the stage. The act had audience members gasping and calling out as his structure grew higher and more rickety, and it was frankly a relief when Bondarenko snapped on a security cable. At this point and throughout, the show highlights performer safety when risk levels may become too nerve-shredding for audiences.

A contortion act plays out on a huge mechanical hand that is one of the show’s most incredible creations (props are also designed by Roy). The shapes the four female performers create with their bodies are enhanced by Philippe Guillotel’s costumes that make them look like amphibious creatures.

The theme of flight comes through particularly strong in James Correa’s rola bola act: he’s dressed like an aviator and his flying machine turns into a small stage on which he stacks cylinders and thick transparent plates and balances higher and higher on them. In a trope that reappears pleasingly throughout the show, the act goes to the next level literally and figuratively when he continues this extraordinary balancing feat even as the platform lifts above the stage.

Aerialist brothers Roman and Vitali Tomanov provide one of the show’s most visually beautiful acts, an aerial straps number that has them soaring out over the audience.

Alongside the breathtaking feats of physical prowess and grace, what sets “Kurios” apart is its wonderful sense of humour. The show is daft and droll without ever being cloying, as in an Invisible Circus routine which draws on the audience’s imagination to visualize acts that we hear but never see and in a hand theatre performance filmed and projected live onto the side of a hot-air balloon.

Humour is also fully on display in my personal favourite act, an acro net number in which a group of acrobat/aerialists jump on a huge safety net suspended above the stage, deftly using their combined weight to bounce each other higher and higher and executing increasingly complex twists, turns and somersaults. Their facial expressions of joy and surprise are priceless, and there’s a running gag involving them waving little fans on the legs of their costumes at each other that is ridiculously fun.

The second act is somewhat maritime-themed, with the acro net group initially appearing in matching yellow rain slickers and fake beards and moustaches, observed by a small chorus lineup of performers wagging big fish tails. I have no idea what it all meant, but it was adorable.

The final number is a banquine act, in which a big group of acrobats do hand-balancing and aerial flying tricks. The troupe’s good-natured execution of dance moves makes the act as charming as it is impressive.

Amid all these pleasures, it’s notable that Cirque du Soleil is not requiring audience members to be vaccinated and is recommending, but not requiring, masks. I experienced a disconnect between the company’s commendable care for its performers’ safety and the experience of sitting in a packed audience including many unmasked people in the middle of the pandemic’s sixth wave.

It’s an unwelcome curiosity in this otherwise jam-packed cabinet of delights.

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