In the second act of “Luzia,” Cirque du Soleil’s new, Mexico-themed production, a nagging question stepped into view — literally.
The Russian contortionist Aleksei Goloborodko was on stage, bending his body into a series of organ-clenching positions. At one point, he planted his hands and thrust his head up and back over his shoulders until it touched the back of his knees, his curved torso curving to form the top of what looked like a giant question mark.
So, what did this have to do with Mexico? Even the live score of the moment, a doleful song called “Alebrijes” — a word for a style of Mexican folk art rich with sculptures of strange creature mash-ups — was a Carnatic song, a style of music from southern India. If you were able to peek at the song title, you could grasp some significance: The contortionist was folding himself into an array of unbelievable alebrijes.
Before you could look down at your program to parse that out, however, the scene was over. Instead, on stage was a scuba diver getting beat up by an aroused cactus. Why? Uh, don’t worry about it.
While Cirque du Soleil typically keeps its acrobatics confined to the stage, “Luzia” asks its audience to make these massive leaps to grasp order out if its scattered sequences of injury-defying feats. At any moment, it seems content to throw up its hands and simply say, “Because Mexico.”
Knowing how to speak Spanish won’t help you understand “Luzia” much better. With a mime always in pocket, Cirque du Soleil productions don’t rely on language. Past productions like “Dralion” and “Varekai” have used an Esperanto style of gibberish to fill in for lyrics and dialogue, which imparts a fitting universality to its productions, which are performed by a multicultural cast of acrobats, clowns and, in Luzia’s case, soccer ball free-stylers.
As Cirque’s first production centered around a single culture, “Luzia” is pointedly localized, but that’s besides the point most of the time, for better and worse.
I won’t spoil the story here … because there isn’t really one. The 2½-hour production follows a mime as he meanders around various Mexico-inspired scenes to the beat of the “Luzia” cumbia-heavy soundtrack (composed by Simon Carpentier) looking for water. (“Luzia” is a portmanteau of “luz” and “lluvia,” Spanish for light and rain, respectively.) Eric Fool Koller of the Netherlands plays the fool and de facto host with schlemielian “Mr. Magoo” charm.
As the bewildered tourist — bumbling into a cane-climbing strongman on the beach and women in Cyr wheels spinning through the rainforest like flicked coins — he was also a natural stand-in for the audience.
Since when does a circus need motivation? It isn’t a problem that plagues the average big top, which is precisely what Cirque du Soleil isn’t. Half circus and half performance art, the Montreal-based theatrical company has set a high bar for its productions that its forebears in the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey — the 146-year-old circus that hung up its whip and top hat for good last month — didn’t have to contend with.
Now that Cirque du Soleil is nearing the top rung of the industry, its biggest competition might be itself. “Luzia” is the latest of a dozen compelling productions that Cirque has brought to Denver since it first staked down here with “Quidam” in 1997. 2015’s “Kurios” only had a conceptual plot, but its delirious steam-punk setting and fantastic set-pieces tilled acres of imagination for its audience to fill in the blanks. “Luzia,” on the other hand, feels rooted to the stage.
That sense comes despite the production’s lush and occasionally stunning art direction. The sets were designed by Academy Award-winning designer Eugenio Caballero (2007’s “Pan’s Labrynth”), who imbues the world of “Luzia” with an ethereal haze. From a giant mechanical horse chasing down a gallivanting butterfly to a remarkable waterfall feature (the first of its kind in a Cirque production), which accounts for some of the evening’s truly spellbinding and surreal moments, the world of “Luzia” can feel like a Latin wonderland.
At any age, that feeling — that you’ve been plucked from the city and placed in a sheerly different reality — is what Cirque du Soleil traffics in. Just like Santa’s sleigh in “Elf” — which was fueled a childlike sense of wonderment from kids and adults alike — Cirque soars when its magical concoction of saucy mimes, world-class acrobats and dream-sequence design reach across the puberty line to make the dad and and toddler alike spill their juice in total unawareness.
Draping itself in Latin rhythms and colorful garlands, Mexico feels like an aesthetic device for the production rather than a guiding light. And while it will always be technically impressive to see an aerialist fly through the air backwards and upside down to land on a massive pendulum swing, the real trick is making the audience forget the swing is there in the first place. “Luzia” only manages that in snatches. The kids will get lost in it; you might just feel lost.
STARS: **/****
IF YOU GO: Cirque du Soleil’s “Luzia.” Through July 9. 1000 Chopper Circle, Denver. Tickets: $39-$245 via cirquedesoleil.com/luzia.
