The singing underwater baby is still haunting.
The clown who flies overhead in slow motion while blaring his phone number on a banner is a scream.
The spider web number still ensnares you in its tangled web.
And the sand art lady–you heard me–has such magical fingers she’d be a joy to be married to.
She’s the Van Gogh of low tide (though this time, she created darker images related to the actual show, whereas last year she mainly did tropical settings and pretty portraits).
The troubadour in the red cape is still there, but there’s less of a heavy-handed plot about his needing to find the love of his life or some such thing.
And there’s act after act of seasoned acrobatic professionals doing their stunts against Dali-esque imagery and Cirque critters looming from the sides of the stage and sometimes even hanging upside-down from the top while holding umbrellas.
Yes, there are a few annoying parts–there’s chirping and scented smoke, and I didn’t see the human pretzel from last time–but take the down moments with a grain of sand.
This Cirque really werques.