Clowns wearing costumes by Dominique Lemieux.
Banana Shpeel
- Written and directed by David Shiner
- Starring Danny Rutigliano
- At The Beacon Theatre in New York
With its new show Banana Shpeel, Cirque du Soleil ambitiously set out to reinvent vaudeville the way they once did circus. What they've ended up with, however, feels like a reinvention of The Muppet Show with clowns in the place of Kermit and his cohorts.
Since it began previews in Chicago last fall, this entertainment experiment from the Canadian kings of circus has garnered headlines for its troubled gestation - a revolving door of creators and cast, abysmal early reviews and a New York opening that was pushed back by weeks and then months.
Now finally officially open at the gorgeously restored Art Deco Beacon Theatre on Broadway, what has emerged at the end of the difficult development process is a variety show - featuring circus, comedy and dance - that is also a parody of a variety show, complete with glimpses of the "behind-the-scenes" antics. (All that's missing is a very special guest star.)
Instead of a friendly and easily frustrated frog, our host is short, gruff producer Martin Schmelky (Danny Rutigliano, from Broadway's The Lion King), who introduces every performance as "the greatest act I've ever seen." He's assisted by a pair of emcees (Daniel Passer and Wayne Wilson), wearing bowlers and baggy pants, and a tall, emphysemic assistant (the very funny Shereen Hickman).
When a series of three "clowns" conspicuously planted in the crowd invade this "Cirque de Schmelky" show, Schmelky blows his gasket. "This place is infested with clowns!" he yells in a line that will certainly be thrown back in this show's face by some critics.
Schmelky's conversion from cruel to kind provides a through-line to a string of individual acts billed as "a riot of ha-has, la-las and ta-das."
The ta-das are, unsurprisingly, the highlights. They are supplied by circus performers who, in a welcome change for Cirque (perhaps inspired by its individualistic competitor Les 7 doigts de la main), are introduced by name.
Early in the show, Vanessa Alvarez wows by juggling a guitar on her feet and then stuns by standing on her head and spinning strawberry-swirl carpets on the ends of all four of her limbs. Later, Dmitry Bulkin, a Russian muscleman whose rippling abdominals made him an instant hit, astounds with a "pole dance" that would send Newton back to the drawing board. There are also a hat juggler, a pair of hand-to-hand gymnasts and a trio of contortionists - all talented, though curiously presented in order of most to least impressive each half.
The la-las aren't quite as hot. Simon Carpentier's compositions are an unfocused mishmash ranging from wordless swing to an R&B-inflected show tune to New Age arias complete with Cirque's customary nonsense lyrics. Jared Grimes choreography is heavy on tap dance that's too often frenetic, and too infrequently elegant. Dominique Lemieux's costumes for the chorus lines are a visual cacophony, notably the disco flapper dresses that glow-in-the-dark. Bruno Rafie's lighting for these sequences is absolutely beautiful, but there's a problem when you're noticing the richness of the hues on the scrims during the big dance numbers.
As for the ha-has, they're hit or miss. The double act of emcees is unfailingly unfunny - insipid Abbott and Costello-inspired patter, foam sledgehammers to the groin - until they are split apart.
The three clown invaders are more entertaining: Patrick de Valette, who looks like the long-haired Lone Gunman from The X-Files; Claudio Carneiro, who looks like Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords; and Gordon White, who looks like Christopher Lloyd.
De Valette is just the strangest human you've ever seen, running around in his underwear like a crazed gecko. Carneiro, meanwhile, has both the best and worst jokes of the show: His short, deaf-puppet routine is genius, but a mimed dinner date with an audience member is uninspired and drags on interminably.
Banana Shpeel has been through the creative grinder and, especially in the dance numbers, it shows. The final result does work in its way, but it doesn't wow.
Banana Shpeel runs in New York until Aug. 29.