Kathleen, Ariel and I headed out today to Randall’s Island, just off the Triboro Bridge, to see the touring Cirque du Soleil production, “Varekai.” Very loosely based on ancient myth, “Varekai” tells the story of Icarus, speculating that he survived his plummet from on high and landed in a strange garden of fantastical creatures. Creatures who can, unsurprisingly, juggle, springboard, hurl around on straps, do dizzying trapeze acts, etc.
“Varekai” had all the spectacular, jaw-dropping moments we’ve come to expect from Cirque. In this case, however, there was something more. We followed a reality series on Bravo called “Fire Within” which depicted, from audition all the way through to the show going on the road, the development of “Varekai.” What I thought was going to be a promotional puff series instead was a remarkably detailed, honest, warts-and-all weeks-long documentary of everything the performers and creators go through to produce Cirque–overseen, all the while, by Cirque’s creator, Guy, whose judgment of what works and what doesn’t, who stays and who goes, is absolute. He votes you off the island, you’re gone.
Because of FW, we came to “know” a number of the players (although, obviously, they don’t know us.) As a result, it added a whole ‘nother level to watching Cirque, because we knew everything these folks had gone through to produce the show, and had come to like a number of them as people. My personal favorite was a young gymnast named Stella. We watched her trials and tribulations, seeing her gymnastic act morph into more of a trapeze act, which was something she was unaccustomed to. We watched her difficulties with a budding romantic relationship, even watched opening night when she was going nuts because her parents became separated, one of them didn’t have a ticket, and she was frantically trying to contact her father who had inexplicably shut off his cell phone.
So there we were, seated two rows from the front, and they had just finished one particular act which involved practically skating around on a slick cloth that simulated the surface of water. And there was Stella as a supporting player in that particular sequence. At the very end, she slid on her belly right up to where we were, reached down and unhooked one of the buckles securing the cloth so it could be removed. Then, her job done, she started to spin around to head off the stage.
Just loudly enough so she could hear me, I called, “Hey, Stella.”
She did a double take in her spin, stopped, glanced our way, and then grinned in acknowledgment. The entire moment took no more than two seconds. Hopefully it was a signal to her that her contributions as an individual are appreciated.
Either that or she thinks there’s some nut stalking her. Jeez, I hope not.
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