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'The Lion King' & 'Cirque du Soleil'
Two unexpected dance treats:
'The Lion King' and Cirque du Soleil
LEWIS WHITTINGTON
Lion King: Something for the grownups
It’s easy for adults to lose steam during the lengthy musical stage version of Disney’s The Lion King. Of course Lion King primarily seeks to fire the imagination of the kids in the audience through its combination of grand spectacle and majestic fable. For younger generations accustomed to high-tech gadgetry, this show is an amazing feat of inspired stagecraft. But even some of the older kids may fade at the one-dimensional faithful adaptations of the full-length feature cartoon. The dead elephant act is just that. And I kept mistaking the villain king for Terrence Stamp’s character in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
But one thing that can hold grownup attentions here is the rich and accessible texturing of Garth Fagan’s choreography. Fagan’s nuanced dance canvas gives this show vital movement elements that are captivating for any age. He combines modern idioms to move the story along, but he wisely refuses to water down the dances that express African heritage and tradition.
Fagan’s pageantry extends to modern dance exhibitionism, shown here in a discrete consummation scene among the lead characters that has dancers flying around in coital embrace. But mainly the majesty of some of the tribal processionals and communal rituals are fully captured by Fagan, who deserves our gratitude for sidestepping the customary Disneyfied haze.
At Cirque, shades of Fred Astaire and Wonder Woman
All Cirque shows contain strong dance elements, and Quidam fortunately offers more than most. ‘Quidam’ means passerby, and this theme plays very well in the realm of circus-theater. These dances play a vital role in the transitional phrasing for acrobatics, contortionism and feats of physical derring-do. Choreographer Debra Brown welds disciplines together into a flowing movement narrative string that provides more than mere breathers from the show’s pyrotechnic spectacles. Aerialists fly in and out on an arc of serviceable overhead rails as well as the signature Cirquisey clowns, spinning sprites and two-legged animals capable of gravity defying extreme sports.
Acrobatics always reveal of physics of a moving human body, but after a few minutes they can seem mechanical. Here, mid-air ballets that combine trapeze thrills and precision unison are framed with a childlike surreal dancey fantasia. Fifteen Slavic acrobats are thrown onto each others’ shoulders to construct four-tier human structures. Instead of drum-roll set-ups, precision formations lead into the sight of bodies hurling through space while executing razor-sharp extensions, ten-meter dive torso twists and mid-air body traffic.
For pure dance, Quidam offers Jerome Le Baut (from France) and the American Asa Kubiak dancing a key duet, in adagio, that keeps evolving into ever more precarious poses and bodyscapes. Mark Wark, the silent MC, dressed in a snazzy purple cutaway, does a pratfall variation of Fred Astaire’s hat rack dance from the 1951 film Royal Wedding. One clown who looks like Fatty Arbuckle’s great-grandson woos a woman in the front seat of an invisible rumbling roadster. All this pantomime acting and dance employs the universal techniques used to such good effect in the best old silent films.
The young Chinese tumblers are masters of the Diabolos, tossing wooden spools off wire when they aren’t doing somersaults themselves. I always feel sorry for child performers, who tend to be exploited. But I guess Cirque pays better than the Chinese government.
In Cirque's hands, jump-rope becomes a heightened communal ritual with a new level of mach -peed pepper. Shayne Courtright of Canada becomes a human spoke in the German wheel, propelling himself in ever-dizzying cyclones. Did I mention that Magritte’s headless umbrella man strolls around the action?
The males in the audience had to put their eyes back in their collective heads under the spell of a contortionist who executes an advanced Olympic floor exercise combined with master yogic positions on three-foot pegs. Be careful guys— make a wrong move and this Wonder Woman could mess you up for life.
'The Lion King' and Cirque du Soleil
LEWIS WHITTINGTON
Lion King: Something for the grownups
It’s easy for adults to lose steam during the lengthy musical stage version of Disney’s The Lion King. Of course Lion King primarily seeks to fire the imagination of the kids in the audience through its combination of grand spectacle and majestic fable. For younger generations accustomed to high-tech gadgetry, this show is an amazing feat of inspired stagecraft. But even some of the older kids may fade at the one-dimensional faithful adaptations of the full-length feature cartoon. The dead elephant act is just that. And I kept mistaking the villain king for Terrence Stamp’s character in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
But one thing that can hold grownup attentions here is the rich and accessible texturing of Garth Fagan’s choreography. Fagan’s nuanced dance canvas gives this show vital movement elements that are captivating for any age. He combines modern idioms to move the story along, but he wisely refuses to water down the dances that express African heritage and tradition.
Fagan’s pageantry extends to modern dance exhibitionism, shown here in a discrete consummation scene among the lead characters that has dancers flying around in coital embrace. But mainly the majesty of some of the tribal processionals and communal rituals are fully captured by Fagan, who deserves our gratitude for sidestepping the customary Disneyfied haze.
At Cirque, shades of Fred Astaire and Wonder Woman
All Cirque shows contain strong dance elements, and Quidam fortunately offers more than most. ‘Quidam’ means passerby, and this theme plays very well in the realm of circus-theater. These dances play a vital role in the transitional phrasing for acrobatics, contortionism and feats of physical derring-do. Choreographer Debra Brown welds disciplines together into a flowing movement narrative string that provides more than mere breathers from the show’s pyrotechnic spectacles. Aerialists fly in and out on an arc of serviceable overhead rails as well as the signature Cirquisey clowns, spinning sprites and two-legged animals capable of gravity defying extreme sports.
Acrobatics always reveal of physics of a moving human body, but after a few minutes they can seem mechanical. Here, mid-air ballets that combine trapeze thrills and precision unison are framed with a childlike surreal dancey fantasia. Fifteen Slavic acrobats are thrown onto each others’ shoulders to construct four-tier human structures. Instead of drum-roll set-ups, precision formations lead into the sight of bodies hurling through space while executing razor-sharp extensions, ten-meter dive torso twists and mid-air body traffic.
For pure dance, Quidam offers Jerome Le Baut (from France) and the American Asa Kubiak dancing a key duet, in adagio, that keeps evolving into ever more precarious poses and bodyscapes. Mark Wark, the silent MC, dressed in a snazzy purple cutaway, does a pratfall variation of Fred Astaire’s hat rack dance from the 1951 film Royal Wedding. One clown who looks like Fatty Arbuckle’s great-grandson woos a woman in the front seat of an invisible rumbling roadster. All this pantomime acting and dance employs the universal techniques used to such good effect in the best old silent films.
The young Chinese tumblers are masters of the Diabolos, tossing wooden spools off wire when they aren’t doing somersaults themselves. I always feel sorry for child performers, who tend to be exploited. But I guess Cirque pays better than the Chinese government.
In Cirque's hands, jump-rope becomes a heightened communal ritual with a new level of mach -peed pepper. Shayne Courtright of Canada becomes a human spoke in the German wheel, propelling himself in ever-dizzying cyclones. Did I mention that Magritte’s headless umbrella man strolls around the action?
The males in the audience had to put their eyes back in their collective heads under the spell of a contortionist who executes an advanced Olympic floor exercise combined with master yogic positions on three-foot pegs. Be careful guys— make a wrong move and this Wonder Woman could mess you up for life.
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