I’ve been interested in Cirque du Soleil ever since the company was founded in 1984. But I honestly never thought I’d see Cirque for a few reasons: 1. The performances usually take place in large cities. 2. I don’t tend to see shows when I travel. 3. I am very bad at making plans. (I once tried to buy same-day tickets to see LOVE in Las Vegas. It was Valentine’s Day, so … yeah. I struck out harder than my freshman year homecoming date.)
This time, however, was different. This time Cirque came to me.
For a very limited time, the touring production of Cortéo is appearing at Palm Desert’s Acrisure Arena, and I had an opportunity to attend on opening night.
Written by Daniele Finzi Pasca, founder of the Swiss clown troupe Teatro Sunil, Cortéo is the story of an Italian clown named Mauro who watches his own funeral procession. Beginning with Mauro’s deathbed, the procession unspools into a carnival atmosphere with dreamy scenes that look back at childhood memories but also take the viewer into otherworldly, ethereal realms.
First off, I’ll admit that I was nervous about taking my 9-year-old son to the show, since he is a vibrating ball of existential dread. I wondered how Cortéo would tackle mortality and how the show would present concepts of death/ the afterlife. I worried it would leave us feeling melancholy or distressed.
Would it be scary?
Worse, would the clowns be creepy?
Now I can firmly say my biggest worry is that my son will run off and join the circus. He was CAPTIVATED.
“This is so joyful,” he whispered as the performers leaped from one oversized bed to another, showing off gravity-defying acrobatic skills.
“Please don’t be joyful at home,” I whispered back. His bed doesn’t have good springs.
I also didn’t know if a circus would feel relevant today, when we have access to so much and can watch fantastical stories with jaw-dropping special effects on our own screens. In an era of AI, what did acrobats, aerialists, and some Italian clowns have to offer?
Well, I don’t want to give it all away, in case you end up seeing Cortéo yourself, but I was surprised and delighted. The show was far funnier than I expected but also weirder, like a Fellini fever dream. There were big, remarkable moments with gymnasts in spinning hoops and aerialists on swinging chandeliers (“That is not safe,” my son said). But the small, quieter scenes made an impact too.
I appreciated the innovative use of the set in its entirety — the trap doors and swooping angels, the balloonist who floated above the audience, the trampoline that ran the length of the stage and seemed like a runway to something beyond this world. It felt both grand and intimate, a real marvel.
Then there were the performers who were so strong and skillful, they seemed to be some other magnificent species entirely. Watching them was like gazing at Beyoncé, like, are you sure we’re all humans here?
Of course, they are human. And that’s key to why Cirque resonated for me and won me over.
It’s not just that Cirque is good despite not having special effects — it’s good because it doesn’t have special effects. At a time when reality is increasingly virtual, here was something real. Here was something alive, (albeit wrapped up in a story about death).
For me, the magic of Cirque lies in the fact that it is wildly human, and what they’ve created in Cortéo embodies life in all its beauty, power, and absurdity.
And when it all comes to an end, let’s hope we go in a cloud of glitter too.
