CBC docuseries Cirque Life is a sunny, superficial look at Cirque du Soleil

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Cirque du Soleil isn’t short on behind-the-scenes drama these days.

The Canadian circus conglomerate has cycled through three CEOs in the last 12 months, for instance – finally landing on British businessman Mark Cornell, the first non-Québécois person to hold that position.

A new big-top show originally expected to premiere in Montreal in 2026 was pushed back to 2027 as the company has leaned into riskier resident shows outside Las Vegas in places such as Hawaii, Germany and Mexico.

But none of Cirque’s restructuring under new ownership after emerging from bankruptcy protection, nor much about the overall post-pandemic precariousness of the performing arts these days in general, makes its way into a new five-part docuseries about the circus troupe that premieres March 19 at 8 p.m. (8:30 NT) on CBC and CBC Gem. (At least not in the first three episodes available for review.)

Cirque Life is instead focused on the day-to-day life under the big top of Luzia, a Mexico-themed show that returned to Montreal for four months last summer:

• A hoop diver named Nelson Smyles is promoted to chief clown in the show while original cast member Eric Koller recovers from having his appendix removed. (“He’s got big shoes to fill,” their colleague Mikaël Bruyère-L’Abbé says to the camera, either super dryly, or unaware he’s making a joke.)
• Olivia Aepli, Nelson’s girlfriend, works her way back into a daring swing-to-swing routine after an accident.
• Contortionist Aleksei Goloborodko twists himself into knots in his off-hours in an attempt to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for “most extreme backbends in one minute.”

This is not exactly high-stakes stuff. And so, Cirque Life occasionally tries to torque the drama, reality-TV style.

That’s especially true in the first episode, built around the lead-up to Luzia’s “premiere” in Montreal - that’s to say the first performance of a return engagement of a show that been on the road for nine years.

“There is a lot of anxiety, there is a lot of nervousness, because we cannot fail in our own market,” says Daniel Lamarre, whom an out-of-date on-screen title still identifies as CEO.

But, after building up the importance of the local reaction, Cirque Life tells us nothing about what it was.

In case you’re curious: In local newspaper La Presse, critic Jean Siag wrote that while the high-calibre routines in Luzia wowed, the show was lacking in emotion and showed Cirque “returning a little to its old habits.”

That would be useful information to include to set up the second episode – where things do get more interesting.

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It feels like special access to watch the performers get notes from Luzia’s original European director Daniele Finzi Pasca – flown back in to check in on his creation. Like Siag, he’s not entirely satisfied by the emotion.

Indeed, Finzi Pasca’s review of Nelson’s first night as the clown is brutal. He accuses him of overacting and, worst of all, slapstick. “I hate,” he says. “Huge mistake.”

“Daniele is an Italian clown and they study a lot more philosophy,” Nelson says afterward.

I wasn’t sure if Nelson meant that Finzi Pasca learned clown in an Italian style – or that he was Italian. I had to Google the director to find out he is from the Italian-speaking region of Switzerland.

When it comes to the many nationalities represented within the company, Cirque Life often leaves it to viewers to fire up a search engine.

Some performers say where they’re from – others don’t and I got the sense the show was deliberately skirting around the fact that Aleksei is Russian. How does he get along with the Ukrainians in the cast? That would have been an interesting plot line – uplifting, or perhaps not.

For me, the strongest parts of Cirque Life were about the duelling clowns. I could have watched a whole documentary about them.

Eric, back from surgery and trying to mentor Nelson, says his younger understudy needs to “overcome the exhibitionism of his ego”.

Nelson, who starts off seeming to think he is the Lecoq of the walk, doesn’t seem to have as much grounding in clown theory. “If I took every one of Eric’s notes to heart, I would come out crying,” he says.

While the tears of a clown make the whole world laugh, it is nevertheless genuinely touching to learn what many of the unique artists and athletes in Luzia sacrifice for their art.

Majo Cornejo, who sings in the show, has missed weddings and funerals back home in Mexico while on tour.

The long-standing debate about how her culture is represented in Luzia goes unmentioned, however.

The series – a collaboration between CBC, Cineflix and Cirque du Soleil – never goes into any territory that could alienate audiences.

After all, Luzia heads to Toronto this summer, then to Ottawa and Vancouver. I couldn’t shake the impression Cirque Life was primarily an ad designed to sell tickets.