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On August 15th, 2017 I made the quick jaunt across the Ottawa River to Gatineau, Quebec, where the Cirque du Soleil people had erected one of their wonderfully Suessian Big Top tents in which to house their brand-new touring show, Volta.
Now, I’ve been around the Cirque du Soleil block a few times – this was maybe my tenth or eleventh show – but this one certainly stands out from the rest in my memory. Not that it was my favourite Cirque show of all time (Saltimbanco and Love hold those coveted spots) nor was it taking place in an exotic locale (like Joyà or Kà) or in a custom-made theatre with, oh I don’t know, say a million and-a-half gallons of water under the stage (see: O). No, Volta doesn’t stand out for any of those nifty, fun reasons.
First of all, the storyline and it’s execution were quite peculiar. The show was set up like some wacky, psychedelic game show that pitted the main character against a phalanx of extreme sports acrobatics. We’re talking BMX bike-loopers, roller-blading maniacs, bouncing unicycles, and lots and lots of…what do they call running around like a banshee nowadays? Oh yes: parkour.
Sigh.
So all-in-all it wasn’t really my cup ‘o tea, except for the clear and salient fact that it the whole thing was done with the hypnotizing language-busting Cirque stamp replete with elaborate costumes, dramatic live music, and constant peripheral activity that easily lulls me into prolonged periods of suspended disbelief.
And then the accident happened.
I’ll save you from any worry and tension by immediately disclosing that the gentleman in question turned out being okay, but I’ll definitely suggest that the most memorable part of this performance of Volta was indeed when one of the parkour performers jumped from a springboard and missed his landing, hitting the stage with a sickening thud that cut right through the loud, pulsating soundtrack. In one second flat the music stopped, the lights went up, and a crew of stagehands and medics flew to his side while the wide-eyed audience sat silent, many of us with our hands held to our mouths in horror.
After a couple of minutes the young man was helped to his feet and with a wave to the cheering crowd he hobbled off of the stage with a medic on either side. Fortunately (I guess) the accident had occurred during the final act of the first set so after a short announcement the lights stayed up and the crowd shuffled out to the foyer of the Grand Chapiteau to try and shake off the shock of what we had just seen.
It’s not like the fall was that dramatic or traumatizing to witness, it really wasn’t. The real blow to my brain was the sudden plunge from ethereal fantasy directly to cold reality, something I was utterly unprepared for in the middle of the show. It certainly could have been much worse, and just six months later it was: during a performance of Volta in Tampa an aerialist fell twenty feet to the stage and died of his injuries. Though it’s impossible not to gape in wonder at Cirque’s astounding acts it’s rather easy to forget just how dangerous it all can be.
Getting a reminder isn’t very pleasant, but it sure is memorable.
I didn’t enjoy the second half of Volta at all; I just couldn’t work my way back to the wonder. Ignoring the faeries and clowns, my mind could only focus on things like rigging trusses and safety harnesses. I’d wonder if I should try to see Volta again, but I’m not really into extreme sports anyway. And the whole BMX bike climax was actually pretty lame. Though all things considered, I suppose they might have been playing things safe.
Todd Man Out 