Cirque Du Soleil - 'O' Tickets

About Cirque du Soleil - 'O'

One of the people responsible for creating its beauty and movement in the water is former Olympic Gold Medalist and Las-Vegas Resident Sylvie Frechette. But before becoming "O"'s Assistant Artistic Coordinator and Aquatic Director, she represented her home country of Canada in two Olympic Games.

"O," the title of Cirque du Soleil's inaugural show at the new Bellagio hotel, derives from the French word for water ("eau") and a concept of infinity inspired by the shape of the letter itself. But "O" could just as easily represent what spectators will be heard uttering repeatedly during the troupe's wet-and-wondrous performance.

Like a Salvadore Dali painting come fully to life on an enormous three-dimensional canvas, the production is a waterborne phantasmagoria that defies easy description and analysis. More than any previous staging in the French Canadian company's 14-year history, "O" blurs the lines between the worlds of circus, dance, drama, sports and technology, filling the theatrical horizon with more disparate sights and sounds than the mind can absorb at one time.

Yes, the usual roster of acrobats, trapeze artists, clowns, contortionists and New Age musicians is on hand to thrill, enchant and challenge audiences with their physical strength and aesthetic cunning. What is completely unexpected, however, is how effectively director Franco Dragone is able to pay homage to the history of the theater -- and tell stories of life, love and death -- on a stage that's rock-solid one minute and completely liquid the next.

Just as the Bellagio rises skyward from a monumental plinth alongside a man-made lake, the conceptual foundation of "O" is provided by a 1.5-million-gallon pool of water (not, to be sure, an aquarium to be stared into like some Weeki Wachee Spring mermaid attraction).

The 74 spiritedly members of the cast perform in, on and above this turquoise stage, whose depth and shape are controlled by a computerized system of submergible panels and platforms. While this mechanical marvel, which operates in concert with an overhead conveyor built to transport people, scenery, rigging and a midair carousel, lends dexterity to the imaginations of the creative team, the entertainers never become slaves to the technology.

In a set the size of an airplane hangar, it takes all kinds of magic to keep the 90-minute show afloat. The fun, as usual with Cirque, starts before the houselights are dimmed. Clowns wander through the tiered, 1,800-seat theater, causing mischief and introducing customers to the production's aquatic theme by picking volunteers to help combat a leak dripping from a pipe in the high, wire-mesh dome.

Before too long, an angel descends from the ceiling and an inquisitive boy, Guifa, moves toward an arm extended from a seam in the gigantic swath of red fabric that covers the proscenium arch. A ghostly guide, Eugen, makes the curtain disappear in a whoosh, revealing the surface of the pool and an enormous surrealistic backdrop. The ethereal sound of the Cirque orchestra heightens, as Guifa, Eugen and several other eccentric characters scamper around the edges of the water. Costumed mannequins drop from the rafters and a corps de ballet of synchronized swimmers emerges feet first from the depths.

If all anyone knows of synchronized swimming is what they've seen performed in the bright glare of an Olympic pool or in a "Saturday Night Live" parody, they'll be stunned to discover how lyrical the sport can be when freed from the chains of judged precision. Under the direction of Cirque choreographer Debra Brown and gold-medalist Sylvie Frechette, the 16 world-class swimmers have metamorphosed from athletes into artists -- as have the high-altitude platform divers, who also appear several times during the show.

The dozen or so acts that follow will be familiar to longtime fans of Cirque, even if the context isn't: Contortionists bend and twist their bodies into impossible shapes while floating on an ice floe; trapeze artists dangle high above the stage, using the pool as an escape route; acrobats catapult themselves into the pond, while striking a pose; and island dancers juggle fire, before a clown bursts into flames before our eyes.

Depending on the position of the submerged platforms at any given time, the many provocatively costumed characters seem to sprint across the surface of the water or disappear deep into the pool, where they are directed to air masks by stagehands in scuba gear. Eugen floats past us in an upside-down umbrella, as a sudden rainstorm changes the climate of the house in an instant.

Providing the dramatic backdrop for all of the activity on and above the stage are huge, patterned fabric dividers worthy of a Christo installation and a constantly shifting tableau of surrealistic images -- from the River Styx one moment to the African veld the next. It is a set in nearly continual motion, from the first swim to the final bow, when the cast is lowered into the depths.

It has taken four years and more than $95 million to bring this aquatic spectacle to life in the parched desert. Of course, Las-Vegas (also home to Cirque's enchanting and fabulously successful "Mystere") is the only city in the world with enough money, tourists and chutzpah to attempt such an adventurous endeavor, so there's virtually no likelihood that "O" ever will go on the road.