The last time that I went to the circus was as a child. I recall seeing a very large elephant relieve himself in the middle of one of the rings in the most public way while I ate my cotton candy. It was shocking, larger than life, and made the clown car trick an after-thought. Needless to say, I had not been back to a circus until my recent visit to see Cirque du Soleil’s Kooza on Broad Street. It makes sense to have a circus on Broad Street in our town. City Hall sits on Broad. That has housed a circus-like atmosphere for decades. The Avenue of the Arts sits on Broad Street. The Mummers Parade provides a yearly circus-like spectacle there and the elephants are usually made of feathers and satin fabrics. A parade of clowns, acrobats, and jesters weave their way across Broad Street on a daily basis with circus-like aplomb on the way to work. So what better place for broad comedy and wide-eyed enthusiasm is available than our most famous wide street in Philadelphia?

I am late to the Cirque du Soleil juggernaut. Many years have passed since this franchise blew into our consciousness. A street performer’s dream has turned into a corporate behemoth with touring productions and regular theaters in Disney World and Las Vegas. When productions get that big, it is easy to dismiss the artistry and the hype. And I have to be honest, Celine Dion has never done it for me. So walking into my first Cirque du Soleil performance with an icy heart and a cynic’s pre-conceived attitude made this review as tenuous as any high-wire act would be. And did I ever mention my fear of clowns? They’ve never made me laugh and have often turned my late-night Baywatch dreams into nightmares while I’m saving lives and running in slow-motion. Cirque du Soleil had a job to do. On me. And I’m not an easy sell.

This town has been painted in Kooza for the last few weeks. SEPTA buses are covered with ads. Street banners proclaim the circus to be in town. Unusually-clad kids running around the city with kites and screaming “Kooza” can’t be dismissed as un-intriguing. As we walked down Broad Street seeing such different terrain, I prepared to dive into my first circus in many years with an open-mind. I know enough about Cirque du Soleil that I knew what to expect. I was searching for authenticity. What I found was magic as well.

The word “Kooza” is derived from the Sanskrit koza, meaning box or treasure chest. It is currently the only word that I know in Sanskrit. But there was treasure buried beneath that tent on Broad Street. Every step from well-appointed concession stands to the racks of goofy hats to the characters walking into the audience before the show were aimed at reminding us that this was something completely different. Kooza is apparently a step back for Cirque du Soleil. A less complicated plot and simpler design are at the center of this production. There was enough eye candy outside of the main tent that it would have been enough of a show for newbies like us. However, when we sat down a few rows from our new Mayor, there was anticipation in the air. Many in the crowd knew what to expect… excellence. We were too distracted by the clowns making their way towards us to anticipate how good this could be.

A good barometer of my enjoyment became apparent instantly. I was laughing at clowns. From crying clown art to pathetic birthday party acts, I have hated clowns my whole life. The Kooza clowns were darn funny, though. For me, a funny clown is like digging in the dirt for a truffle. This was a rare treat. The jokes were modern, sophisticated, and bawdy… if that is possible. The clowns were so fun that I might not hate clowns anymore. The central character of Kooza is a boyish character with a kite. We travel with him into the improbable and yet possible. As a box is laid before him, we are transfixed as the stage comes alive and music fills the night air. In this new world, anything is possible and we are propelled to a place where physics is flipped upside down, gravity is another word for serious, and people do amazing things that leave our jaws locked and unloaded.

Cirque du Soleil has one negative effect on the average viewer. You start to feel average as a human being while watching the amazing feats of the performers. Watching the most fantastic contortionist act that I’ve ever seen, I was reminded of the difficulty that I have while attempting to touch my toes or tie my shoe. Three women who have apparently had their spines removed slithered around on stage in a way unlike anything that I’ve ever seen. These were potential Twister champions on a world-class level.

Though watching a juggling act seems so tired and cliché at this point, the Kooza juggler is the best I’ve ever seen. I was again reminded of my lame attempts to juggle tasks or schedules while watching someone throw everything but the kitchen sink in the air and catch it. The Kooza acts were traditional for a circus without animal acts, but we were seeing the best in the world. The high-wire act was almost as amazing as the construction of the high-wire itself, which went barely noticed. I was reminded of the time that I freaked out on the elevator in City Hall when I passed the inside of the clock. Seeing people jump rope on a high-wire reminds us that barely doing it on solid ground isn’t anything to be proud of.

There were balancing acts, springboards acts, a trapeze artist and others who would challenge our notions about these traditional forms while amazing us all the same. The story of Kooza is loosely passed forward while one act after another dazzles us into submission. The Wheel of Death act must be seen to be believed. Rather than describe it, I’ll say that I haven’t heard that much gasping and anxiety from a crowd since my last Eagles game last fall. Every step taken on this wild contraption seemed like a life-challenging moment. I was reminded of the day that tried to get onto a wind-surfer on vacation to no avail. How is it that I am from the same species as someone that can run and jump on the outside of a wheel that is rotating and plunging towards the ground with every move? Within the context of the Kooza story, this was the moment that will live in my mind forever.

And did I say those clowns were darn funny? Using the audience as a tool and remembering that a pie to the face isn’t funny anymore, the Kooza clowns charm us and give us a chance to catch our breath as human beings do things that we weren’t made to do. The clowns interact with our hero as he emerges, infused with the spirit of possibility as he tries to soar in life. Cirque du Soleil’s attention to detail and deep appreciation of the audience’s experience sets it apart. While Kooza’s simpler design is intended to bring the circus back to its roots, we are transported to a land so singular in look and expression that our cynical selves are left on the sidewalk outside. We are reminded that child-like enthusiasm and an appreciation for great feats aren’t reserved for children. Kooza reminds the weary traveler amongst us that we are only limited by our lack of imagination. We can fly like they fly if we’d only have the audacity to try and work that hard at it.

On my way back up Broad Street, I twisted my ankle a bit on a crack in the sidewalk. After seeing a guy balance that many chairs while doing handstands on top, or people flying in the air on stilts, I wondered if I was as capable as the people of Cirque du Soleil. I’m reminded to dream a bit bigger and pretend that the cracks aren’t there, because anything is possible if you try.

I went to the circus recently on Broad Street. There wasn’t an elephant in sight. I can’t wait for the next show to come to town. By then, I’ll be all over those toes and will be leaping cracks as if they weren’t even there. Go to Cirque du Soleil on Broad Street to see the potential of human behavior. We can fly, balance, jump, juggle, bend, twist, and laugh a lot more than we think. It makes you want to try just a little bit harder.

Cirque Du Soleil
www.cirquedusoleil.com