By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
"We are going to try to put it fairly complete," Koster says. "If not, we'll do it on a smaller level. We'll do what we have to."
On stage, Koster lures the audience into his dream. He sings about TV sets taking over the mortals, the death of Superman, the death of parents and the ballads of sailors. As the circus is about to end, he grabs a snare drum and a bow and tells everyone to follow him.
There is no hesitation. People follow his lead out the door, sticking their hands into a shopping bag-held by a guy with a blue and green magic-marker-decorated face-and pulling out tin dinnerware, metal pipes of various sizes and New Year's Eve noisemakers.
Out on the street, the kling-clang of metal on metal echoes off the sleeping buildings. As Koster's surreal hundred-person parade turns a corner, the innocent earthlings winding down on Broadway ask what all the noise is about. When they get no answer, they join the procession and march with Koster's circus into the night.