A performer runs across the stage at Bellagio’s “O.” Moments later, a diver plunges headfirst into the water where that performer had just been running.
From roughly 20 rows back, the transition looks seamless. I know the floor has moved. I have no idea when I stopped seeing it.
Throughout Cirque du Soleil’s aquatic production, the stage changes costumes as often as the performers. Swimmers break the surface, and two sailor clowns make do with the roof of a partly submerged house. Fire, smoke and shifting light give the same space another identity. The scenery never seems to finish becoming something else.
My wife and I joined an entrance line last Wednesday that looked formidable but moved quickly. In the theater lobby, Richard MacDonald’s bronze sculptures depict acrobats, dancers and other performers, their movements captured in metal.
Inside, two red-nosed clowns in oversized sailor outfits work the crowd before a towering red curtain patterned with gold, one standing inside a battered metal tub. Performers also venture into the aisles, involving spectators before the pool is visible.
The opening reveal takes its time. An apparent audience member becomes part of the performance, eventually rising toward the top of the curtain. The fabric retreats into the set, exposing the water and scenery. Even removing the curtain becomes a spectacle.
Cirque puts its high divers’ jumps at 60 feet. The height was startling, but the narrow patch of water below took my breath away. I had been watching the floor appear and disappear all evening. Now someone had to land precisely in the opening it left behind.
The larger scenes contain so much simultaneous activity that following one performer means overlooking another. I could imagine returning five times and discovering something impressive on each visit.
Beneath the Illusion
Cirque describes a team of 14 underwater technicians and certified scuba divers who move set pieces, assist scene changes and supply breathing air to artists waiting below the surface for their entrances.
Handling Specialty, which built the underwater stage system, describes four hydraulic lifts operating a 3,650-square-foot, four-piece stage. Its 40,000 holes let water pass through the moving floor. The pool holds 1.5 million gallons.
From the seats, the machinery draws almost no attention. Performers move between solid ground and water in transitions that look seamless.
The clowns’ slapstick holds my attention as firmly as the larger acts. I never found myself waiting for the show to get moving again.
Even the sound fools you. A whisper seemed to come from behind my seat. I turned around. Then my wife did. We looked at each other and laughed. She found it a little creepy.
After the Exhibit Hall Closes
I would readily bring clients or colleagues after a tradeshow. Bellagio offers group reservations for 10 or more, and the 90-minute performance runs without an intermission. For me, its value was the sustained escape. The workday finally loosened its grip.
Nearly 28 years after its debut, “O” still brought our audience to its feet. Afterward, we walked through the Conservatory’s fall display, even more appealing to me after dark.
I went in tired from work. I left thinking about divers, disappearing floors and how much I probably missed while watching something else.
Cirque du Soleil provided complimentary tickets for this review.
To suggest a show for ECN’s D.E.A.L. coverage, contact Mark Hebert at markh@exhibitcitynews.com.
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