1/8/2011 - nothing to fall back on but talent. . .

Sam and I went to a circus show last night with my boss and co-workers.  How this all got orchestrated is something of a long story, but bottom line: amazing.  The show was called Candid, and it was put on by Sweet Can Productions, a small, homegrown circus troupe based in the Mission.

My first real exposure to the circus was at 14, when my family and I were coming down an escalator at the Treasure Island Hotel in Las Vegas (before they decided to become 'hip' and turn into TI).  Projected onto the wall across from us was a video of an acrobat bouncing from the ceiling, strapped to bungee cords.  Her legs were extended, toes pointed, making the most beautiful lines with her body, layout after layout in the air.  

I was mesmorized.

I learned that the show was called Mystere, and the company, Cirque du Soleil.  Nowadays, they are much more known in America, possibly to the point of oversaturation, but back then, Cirque, and the idea of 'high-end circustry,' was still a niche.  They felt like exclusive, inside knowledge, a secret world to be discovered.  To describe Mystere was to recount a barely believable story that even the teller had trouble believing.  To leave it was to step back into something of an altered reality, altered by the ill-defined, but certain revelations that came to you during the show.

Well, that was how it was for me, anyway.  Even as a teenager, I lived too much in my head.

We did not get to see Mystere that year as we had discovered the show too late in our trip.  However, we dutifully returned the following year, and just about every year after that until I turned 18.  To date, I have seen it over a dozen times, with hopefully more in the future.  I can tell you which acts follow which, where to look to see performers scale down a wall like lizards, when a small umbrella will descend from the ceiling and which performer will catch it.  And yet, after each time, I was still sad that it was over, still filled with a notion that I was just at the brink of understanding something almost sacred about performance, about talent, about beauty.  Like Adam, his finger just a breath away from God's, but infinitely further than ever.

It was my first Cirque show, and none have stood up to its grandeur, not even other ones from Cirque.  Especially theirs.  In recent years especially, it has begun to feel like they lost sight of the innovation that once separated them from reality, the larger-than-life story.  It began to feel rehashed, recycled, and worse, reductive.

It seemed like they traded in the scale of their imagination for the scale of their budget.  As they became more successful, more popular, as more shows began springing up like dandelions on the Las Vegas Strip, I felt like the organic talents of the performers, the creative leaps, the je ne sais quoi of the feelings creativity inspires in those who witness it, all were overlooked in favor of mind-blowing set pieces (Ka), recognizable clout (Viva Elvis, the upcoming Michael Jackson show), or guest stars (Criss Angel's Believe, ugh).

So it was quite unexpected for me to witness this creativity at a small, $15 show tucked away on the third floor of a building across the street from the BART station in the Mission.  Candid is a throwback to when Cirque du Soleil was a street act, operating on a non-existent budget and relied on the applause of an audience to grow.  Each performer and their specific skill (aerial silk, contortion, hula hoops, indescribable broom manipulation), all came together in a humble black box theater with little more to the set than a few garbage cans and stools.

Sam summed it all up the best, I think.  He said that it is becoming apparent in our recent entertainment experiences that sometimes, the most refreshing talent comes from small, community productions instead of  large-scale, commercially produced ones.  These small shows have nothing to fall back on but talent, and nothing but the talent to show.

It felt like a privilege, and certainly our good fortune, to have witnessed the talents of the performers last night.  I was inspired, not necessarily to join the circus, but to rely more on my talents.  And, thanks to Candid, Sam and I made a pact to find one local production of some kind to attend every month.  Open to suggestions.

(FYI, there are but four shows left in Candid, though I trust the troupe will put out other shows in the near future.  Definitely check out http://www.sweetcanproductions.com/ if you are even slightly interested.)