“I dreamt of my funeral,” intones the clown protagonist, and so begins Corteo: a Cirque du Soleil favourite that has entertained over 12 million people since its premiere in 2005.
On stage, a motley cortege of former circus colleagues have gathered to celebrate Mauro the Dreamer Clown (Stéphane Gentilini), mysteriously able to join his own mourners in reminiscing about life under the spotlight.
As a premise, it’s about as tenuous as Cats’s contest for Jellicle heaven (it’s probably futile, for instance, to wonder how a scene of his friends playing golf with a talking ball relates either to Mauro’s stage career or his tragic death). But in the tradition of many a beloved musical theatre production, the storyline functions largely as an excuse for spectacle and sumptuous stage design. On both counts, Corteo is an enchanting success.
Cirque du Soleil can tend toward visual cacophony so it’s a delight to see that in between scenes of carnivalesque chaos, the show’s standout acts are given room to breathe, with often just one or two performers left to command the stage. Given that Corteo concerns Mauro’s flight to the afterlife, it’s fitting that the aerial routines are a highlight. Performers swing from horizontal bars, twine around gilt chandeliers, launch themselves from springy eiderdown beds, teeter above the stage on towering poles and ladders, and hang suspended like marionettes. The diminutive Clowness (a recurring character) is fitted with a harness attached to moonlike helium balloons, and with a push she sails out above the spellbound audience. Two performers bring Corteo to its climax with an aerial straps routine, swooping from ceiling to floor in a balletic and skilfully controlled duet.
You might like
Corteo’s visual references include Rococo paintings, the iconography of Commedia dell’arte, and the Moulin Rouge cabaret. This inspiration finds its expression in huge roll drop curtains painted with cavorting figures, a cast outfitted in faded Belle Époque finery (175 costumes in all, the official statistics tell us), dozens of angels like frilly Christmas tree toppers floating in and out of scenes from above, and a couple of panto horses for good measure. Corteo’s score is performed live by operatic singers and white-faced clown violinists.
In a production this slick, the weirder details are often the most charming, whether they be pairs of disembodied shoes creeping across the stage floor, whimsical brass instruments that have sprouted extra bells, or an angel lobbing rubber chickens at the circus folk below. Anachronistic robots scurrying around like Pixar lamps with WALL-E voices don’t charm in the same way, however, and would be better suited to a different show.
Corteo reminds us that clowning is as much an artform as dance, music, and acrobatics, with its own venerable heritage. Mauro’s world is populated not by Bozo types, but by classical characters such as the solemn White Clown (Marcelo Perna) and his clumsy foil, the Auguste Clown (Fabio Santos). Rich though its history may be, clowning can quickly grow wearying for a modern audience. Happily, the Corteo clown troupe rarely outstay their welcome, providing some snappy moments of physical comedy as a palate cleanser between acrobatic acts.
With audience seating arranged on two sides of the stage so as to give us “a performer’s view” of the other half of the crowd, the show might have been an opportunity for a reflection on the experience of a life lived and ended on the stage. While the meaning of Mauro’s death dream remains elusive, its ability to dazzle audiences is unequivocal.
Cirque Du Soleil – Cortero continues at Adelaide Entertainment Centre until October 5