Cirque du Soleil has built its world-wide performance empire on pushing bodies in directions that barely seem possible, so it’s inevitable that these theatrical maestros should turn their attention on one of the body’s most fundamental acts: Sex. But one persons’ saucy is another person’s sleaze; can Cirque du Soleil balance danger and joy, hunger and playfulness? They do—and the key is a good dose of humor along the way.
If you fear that Zumanity will feature second-rate performers trotted out with a shallow lathering of eroticism, your fears are unfounded. These routines would be jaw-dropping even if the performers weren’t half-naked and gorgeous—but lucky for us, the performers are delicious eye-candy of the highest calibre. Picture in your mind’s eye a a sleek Catholic schoolgirl playing with a hula-hoop. Now picture that schoolgirl playing with 20 hula-hoops simultaneously, whirling them up and down her body and limbs while suspended dozens of feet above the stage. Two muscular men engage in a duet that’s half tango, half ultimate fighting as they leap around a giant cage. A male contortionist must have bones, but he seems able to bend them in truly unnatural directions. An aerialist wrestles with straps and ropes, spinning and tumbling in midair while taking panting pleasure in her bondage. Add to this a variety of stripteases and gymnastic dances, featuring extravagant costumes, wild props and setpieces, and dazzling lighting effects, performed by men and women who can do the splits as easily as you can cross your fingers. The music could be described as klezmer trip hop, or middle eastern swamp blues. The mistress of ceremonies is a statuesque drag queen named Edie, whose tart wit and sly looks drive the festivities along.
Perhaps the most visually stunning act—though there are many candidates for that title—features two women, their bodies seemingly all curvaceous muscle, swimming in a giant glass fishbowl. As they slide up and down the slope of the bowl, their bare skin pressed against the glass, their bodies twine around each other like eels. The effect is both erotic and beautifully surreal.
But amid all the flesh and gyrations (and this review doesn’t have room to list all the acts) are regular doses of delightful clown acts. A comedienne in a pink bouffant teaches the audience how to create their own breast implants using baggies filled with whiskey, while a would-be seducer makes eyes at the audience and offers a variety of sexual aids for sale. Some of the most memorable parts of the show are the most unpredictable, as Edie and the clowns interact with the audience—who may respond in surprising ways to the opportunity to share the stage with these luscious specimens of humanity! It’s this humor, frankly, that makes the show really work, that makes the audience feel like they aren’t just voyeurs at a peepshow. Comedy invites you in, makes you feel like part of the fun, and not a titillated lump in a comfortable chair.
Though the Zumanity Theatre has well over a thousand seats, the feel is surprisingly (and appropriately) intimate; the audience surrounds the stage and the performers embrace being seen from all angles. Though Cirque du Soleil has multiple productions running all over the world (including six in Las Vegas alone!), their creativity and discipline shows no signs of flagging. Zumanity is as satisfyingly astounding as any of Cirque’s acclaimed shows, and if you’re a theatergoer who wants a little seduction with your spectacle, Zumanity is the show for you.
—August Evans
