![]() Dangling "overboard" from the crooks of their knees, the acrobats jump ship, one by one, diving nimbly into the depths of the stage below. Before long, the scene resem bles the all-around competition at the Viking Olympics. Some begin high-bar and parallel-bar routines on the frame, others hurl themselves from one pair of hands to another. Aboard the vessel, 10 gymnasts sway the boat from bow to stern, slowly creating a giant pendulum. Add psychedelic spandex, Salvador Daliesque scenery and a brilliant-but- humble 10-piece orchestra, and you've got the funkiest show on earth.Ī metal framework of pipes designed to look like a 30-foot sailboat floats high above center stage, suspended by ceiling cables. But only here will you find "actors" leap ing around in custom-made, water-resistant Nikes and Asics. What snowboarding and MotoX have done for action spOodrotess, for the perform ing arts. For 90 intermission-free minutes, a $120 ticket seems cheap, as 82 synchronized swimmers, divers, gymnasts, trampolinists and jugglers defy physics on the watery platform.Īthleticism, in fact, is the underlying theme of the show. ![]() One moment a dancer tiptoes over a steadfast stage, the next a diver drops 40 feet and disappears into the very spot that was solid seconds before. This is not your typical circus, and Cirque du Soleil's current Las Vegas triumpOh,( as ine au,French for water), is not your typical anything. No elephant in a tutu, no midget jug glers, no whip-cracking ringmaster. WHEN THE curtain goes up on Cirque, there's no clown car. We're 10 minutes into a six-hour audition, but after being judged on our pantomime and karaoke abilities, no one is sure they'll make it past the first half-hour. So there is a nervousness in the gym, even among the athletes who actually can sing and dance. Anna Kournikova wouldn't make it into Cirque on her best hair day. c an you see", Cirque looks for atypical athletes, the special few who exhibiatn dsakritlils try. Strength, power and endurance won't cut it if I can't stand on my hands and do a split while singing the nationalO ha,n tshaeym. Despite my background as a pro figure skater, collegiate rower and All- America Ironman triathlete, I'm in way over my head. The laughter my funky chick en and "I'm a Little Teapot" receive is undeniably the "at you" kind. No matter how many Olympic Games you have under your belt, if you can't be the dragon-or breakdance, or belt out a song in gibberish-Florence Pot will show you the door with a brisk thank-you and a reminder to leave your bib number on the table.Ī 39 pinned to my chest, I've already been told to perform a spontaneous hip-hop routine (sans musiq)u eand an a cappella version of the song of my choice. Cirque's recruiting brochure calls for "outstanding athletes who are ready to make the impossible possible," but it's not enough to be a top-flight gymnast like Dominique Dawes or Blaine Wilson. Those with flair and promise will move on, those with reluctance and insecurity will move out. This is Cirque's minicamp, and Coach Pot, Cirque's casting agent, is here to break us down and see if we're standing at theo fe ntdh e day. We're here in this northern Las Vegas gym to audition for Cirque du Soleil, the world-renowned circus troupe that's more Bela Karolyi than Barnum & Bailey. No one planned on being a dragon-or a horse, cat, monkey or bird, life-forms into which some of us have been asked to morph. Many of the gymnastsn gm ialbloiut the floor expected to do a backflip today. "Show me something special," Pot comma n d"sS.omething special?" the second waves her hand toward the rest of us. Pot calls another number, and a differbeonitn gg,ymnast boing, bointgos the center of the spring-loaded floor and awaits orders. The man on the spot nods- baultone on the gym mat in front of three talent evalua tors, a video camera and 23 other hopefuls-he's clearly not feeling very reptilian the moment. Pot (pronouncepdo e) is slightly annoyed the dragon hasn't yet emerged. Do you understand?" asks Florence Pot, a short but fiery Frenchwoman. Be the dragon!" The Russian gymnast hesitates. WHERE DO YOU GO IF YOU'RE A WORLD-CLASS JOCK WITH NO PLACE TO COMPETE? IF YOU'VE GOT GUTS, YOU TRY OUT FOR CIRQUE DU SOLEIL
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