Luzia unspools from there in a rainbow of colours, each subsequent act more impressive than the last, writes Aisling Murphy.Matt Beard/Supplied
- Title: Luzia
- Written by: Daniele Finzi Pasca and Julie Hamelin Finzi
- Directed by: Daniele Finzi Pasca
- Company: Cirque du Soleil
- Venue: Under the Big Top, 2150 Lake Shore Blvd. W.
- City: Toronto to Aug. 30; then Ottawa from Sept. 10 to Oct. 18; then Vancouver from Nov. 4 to Dec. 13
Reviewing Cirque du Soleil ought to be one of the perks of my job.
But more often – and I’m aware this is a first-world problem of the highest degree – I dread the experience of trekking out to the Big Top. I sneer at the overpriced drinks, but buy one anyway, balancing some frozen concoction between my knees as I attempt to take notes in a pitch-black, air-conditioned tent. And when the show finally starts, I’m often underwhelmed, instead clinging to childhood memories of how it felt to witness acrobatic magic against the backdrop of a fantastical story. (In recent years, Cirque du Soleil’s plots have been thin, even borderline nonsensical; individual acts, too, have felt remarkably inconsistent from one performance to the next.)
It’s with that context in mind, then, that I’m pleased to report that Luzia, which first premiered in 2016, marks a significant departure from Cirque du Soleil’s other recent tours. The story, written by husband-and-wife duo Daniele Finzi Pasca and Julie Hamelin Finzi, is whimsical and surprisingly cogent. The individual acts are among the company’s most spectacular in recent tours – even with a few gymnastic stumbles on the afternoon I attended, the experience was more thrilling than either Ovo or Echo.
Refreshing, too, is Luzia’s mostly analogue design – unlike in past tours (particularly Echo), Luzia doesn’t rely on projections or videos to work its charms.
And the mango margarita? Pretty dang good.
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The show starts with a skydiving excursion gone wrong: When a good-natured Traveller (Andrii Lytvak) falls from the sky, he crash-lands into a strange land that looks vaguely like the deserts of Mexico. When he encounters a brass wind-up key – fair warning, the urge to twist it from the audience is almost unbearable – a new world blooms around him. A monarch butterfly (Helena Merten) soon emerges as the Traveller’s guide, her silky wings gusting behind her like a parachute.
Luzia unspools from there in a rainbow of colours, each subsequent act more impressive than the last.
But the show’s most breathtaking crescendo is also its wettest: Early in Luzia, a clown routine riffs on the sprinkler that hangs above the circular stage. The Traveller, thirsty and lost, tries his hardest to catch the drops in his canteen, but the sprinkler has a sense of humour that forces Lytvak to look to the audience for help.
Luzia is not a perfect Cirque du Soleil show, but at its heart it is more enjoyable than even its more acrobatically slick counterparts.Matt Beard/Supplied
The routine – splashy, yes, but well-timed and genuinely funny – then gives way to a more lyrical display of waterworks, as the sprinkler starts spitting out shapes. Turtles and fish rain down from the apex of the Big Top; flowers bloom seemingly out of nothing as the waterfall cascades to the ground. (Delightful, too, is director Finzi Pasca’s ability to mask the inevitable squeegeeing that follows the water sequences – squint in the darkness around a spotlit clown interlude, and you’ll spot diligent stagehands drying off the floor.)
There’s little use in listing each stunt as they come: I’d argue that one of the hallmarks of a great Cirque du Soleil experience is the element of surprise. But it’s almost worth buying a ticket solely to see contortionist Aleksei Goloborodko perform, his hip bones and ribs seemingly left backstage as he twists himself into knots. The routine is unsettling, but jaw-dropping – Goloborodko is by far the company’s strongest stretcher in recent tours.
Another highlight is a Mexican cinema-inspired strong man routine, in which the muscular Ugo Laffolay performs push-ups and planks atop a series of increasingly wobbly sticks. And a sequence of soccer shtick, which sees Abou Traoré and Igo Da Silva Matos juggle footballs with shockingly fast feet, couldn’t be better timed, what with the World Cup going on just a few minutes down the road.
I’ll grant that Luzia is not a perfect Cirque du Soleil show: At the performance I attended, jugglers dropped pins, gymnasts bobbled landings, dancers missed steps.
Giovanna Buzzi’s Mexican-inspired costumes are gorgeous and playful.Matt Beard/Supplied
But at its heart, Luzia is more enjoyable than even its more acrobatically slick counterparts. Giovanna Buzzi’s Mexican-inspired costumes are gorgeous and playful; the script’s conclusion is blissfully coherent, and even a bit sad in its exploration of the Traveller’s dreamy nostalgia.
Indeed, just before Luzia’s finale, the show’s cactus-pocked world sputters to a halt, its ensemble frozen in time. The Traveller, faced with that same brass key from the opening number, contemplates what to do next, now that he knows the vibrant colours of this new world. Should he keep chasing the water, birds and fish that so enchanted him on his descent from the sky? Or should he get back on the plane and spend his remaining days amongst the clouds?
There’s only one way to find out – better grab a margarita for the journey.