When last we met here at the Tea House of Tranquility, my fragile psyche was rattled by rumors of a Cirque du Soleil sale to a dubious Dubai syndicate (is anything in Dubai not dubious?) ... and what a flood of e-mail it drew (to me, one counts for a “flood”). And no less than from an ex-Cirque Insider (trust me), who helped launch the whole thing way back when it suddenly went from one-ring humble to multi-tent haughty. Can you blame them? Says Mr. Ex, amorally instructive, “Guy Laliberte has no real vision for the future of CDS but he has a clear vision for himself. Think about it!”Okay. So I thought about it, and I hereby declare that producer Laliberte, by having no vision set in stone, is more creatively open to whatever new revelations might strike him or his underlings ... Which prompts me to think aloud that Sigmund Freud would have had a field day analyzing the brilliant eccentrics, such as the Mysterious Mr. Ex, who together argued, as only the French can argue, the whole Cirque thing into breath taking form. So, Mr. Laliberte, spare yourself a Dubai detour and simply keep on not knowing where you are going; for this will make your future even more surprising. And you don't even have to think about it.
Thoughtless tidbits down at the runs: Playland-Not-At-The-Beach, located in El Cerrito, north of Berkeley (where the late Don Marcks lived), brings back more memories than it has artifacts on display. Richard Tuck has done a splendid job cramming maybe too much into a claustrophobic space, from Playland games to the model circus made by Don and his father, among the assorted offerings that are viewable through narrow passageways. Miniatures of a city? Miniatures of other things? Some of it doesn’t make sense. Great atmosphere though. I must think about this. You see, I grew up across the street from San Francisco’s fabled amusement park, where my Uncle Smitty managed the Big Dipper roller coaster, my father rigged the spooky light-up devices in the dark mystery rides), and I can’t shake the Playland in my soul. I Can still hear the thunder of coaster cars through fog, the screams of dames playing to frisky sailors on leave ... Music to my crib.
Think pink in Spain. To the list of niche circuses specializing in precise market definition, add Gay Circus, which bows in Barcelona on July 25 during the Euro Games. This nicher endeavors to assist “the normalization of homosexuality.” And in case you are wondering what to think, you are promised a “dialogue between angels and devils, the eternal dispute between good and evil set now on a ring with numerous references to literature, painting, dance, sculpture, photography, and cinema.” Sounds suspiciously Montreal to me; might Spain also be bidding for the Lalibert collection? ... Niche big tops (UniverSoul to New Pickle) offer the exciting prospect of what I would call Retro Circus. Old fashioned and low down. A little creepy. Reckless in the air, snarling on the ground. Gruff-looking characters lurking about. The bearded lady returns. Inside a ghostly old tent, windjammers toot and bang off key. Mr Cage Man hulks it up to face down rowdy lions, making a near-death exit, Clyde Beatty style. Hula hoopsters get tangled up in too many rings and are rushed out of the tent on stretchers made of pink aerial bed sheets ...
I better get out of there before I lose it. Oh, wait, one last big thing: THIS IS CIRCUS in any tent, in any context, and you don’t have to think about it. I saw it on America’s Got Talent last night -- Lil' Countrie and Page from New Orleans turning fantastic ground acrobatics, hip hop style, one of them on his head sliding across the floor! I first saw that trick (in fact, I think this Countrie is the very one I saw do it) at UniverSoul Circus — that’s the "black thing" niche tent that shuns white America ... Which is one of the Big Reasons why it’s gifted ringmaster, Calvin DuPre, quit. He wants to share his vision with a wider audience base ...Oh, and I had so much more nonsense to articulate. We must meet here again soon. Retired Doc Bob of Baraboo, emerging at last from a soft winterly hibernation, has something to say about Louise Ringling. His niche is rich in the Al Ringling Theatre pitch ...
Think about it!
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