Saturday, September 24, 2005
Under the Grand Chapiteau
Two posts in the span of one day. That is insane.
Anyway, I thought this deserved it’s own update. Just came home from watching Cirque Du Soleil’s Quidam. While I understand it’s not the absolute best of their productions, I had an unforgettable experience all the same. It was a treat for all the senses, bar none. It wasn’t a one-sided performance with only visual splendor and effects – it was provocative, deep, and emotionally moving. And there’s such a deep appreciation for theatrics, drama, and performance art that even a person like me could feel that sort of presence.
The tent, or the Grand Chapiteau, was a lot smaller inside than it looked from the outside. Frankly, I didn’t expect that – some part of me had a preconception of what to expect, and I was thinking of something like some grandstand with some rings in the middle, set in some coliseum style stadium. However, all I saw were rows upon rows of seats, packed tightly around the centre stage, the front row literally hugging the stage already. I mentioned to Weibin how peculiar I thought that was, and he told me that this sort of circus wasn’t the sort of circus I’d come expect from funfairs or really horrid B-grade shows. I mean, I knew that modern day circuses didn’t involve many animals and stuff, and hence could afford to be smaller and more compact – but this looked like some performance stage to me. He told me that this was more of an abstract, bourgeois thing, with a larger emphasis on theatrics, riggings, and imagery. How right he was.
Each performance was dazzling, from the Diabolos (with the girls who somehow reminded me of The Shining), the aerial hoops, the crimson silk contortion thingie, all the acrobatics and skipping, and many more – all linked by dynamic interlude performances, and music which was both reactive and emotional. The musicians were astounding. They responded perfectly to all the visual cues, be it improvised or not – and the understanding between the musicians and performers is something clearly forged only from years of experience and appreciation for each others works, poking fun at each other, and playfully messing each others’ cues up. The drummer (inevitably) was simple breathtaking, sitting soundly in his sound chamber, one of the few I’ve seen in actual performance, together with his mixing boards and equalizers, slamming out rolling fills and syncopations perfectly in time with the formers. His hi-hat was simply mind-numbing in it’s subtle perfection.
The clowns were fantastic. The best I’ve ever seen in person – the true silent comedians of the modern age, mature and quick-witted in their humour, and reactive to changing conditions. I’ve never laughed that hard before, and given my absolute lack of humour, that’s saying something. The two skits their acted out with the assistance of a sporting audience were reminiscent of an episode of Who’s Line is it Anyway, but I guess the fact that it’s all right in front of you on the stage makes it all the more appealing and exciting. In fact, a lot of performance art is like that – you just have to be there to feel it. It’s a sensory experience, and I have no doubt that Quidam falls squarely into that category.
Weibin called it ‘the Beautiful People Parade’, and I couldn’t agree more, I guess. And that’s not only on stage – the audience were of a different type from, say, a movie audience or some band concert audience. This audience was constituted of mostly Caucasians, couples, and rather pasty skinned folk, who clearly spend too much time in their plush offices instead of out in the sun. And ANYONE on that stage, including the little girls, could have beaten all of us up at the same time, taken our lunch money, and done bench presses using us. Scary, beautiful, talented, silent people.
We spent some time discussing the whole story behind Quidam was well – mapping out our own framework of reflection about the various scenes, and how they tied together, how they critiqued modern day society, and specifically, the dysfunctional family which is becoming so increasingly predominant. Our literary deductions blew my mind, as usual – it’s amazing what happens when you get a group of people who just love to look too deeply into things together to discuss about such things. Fascinating.
The ticket cost a bomb – third row seats – but after walking out of there, there’s an unspoken, universal consensus that every cent was worth it, and all was right in the world. I would watch it again if I had limitless funds. Sadly, that day has not come yet. This sort of theatrical performance is an experience unlike any other, and it is things like that that foster my deeper appreciation of the cultural scene. Things which plebeians who just brush aside lightly, saying, ‘what? Hundred and thirty bucks? I could buy so many shirts and blahblahblah with that! No!’ The modern day person who only cares about material gains and deprives his soul of any appreciation for the living. I can only be thankful that I have friends who feel the same way – friends who can actually drag me out and tell me, ‘have you heard about this performance coming? You’ve got to watch it…’. For that, I am truly glad. It is one of the things I will miss, once I migrate from this place.
STOMP is next Saturday. I have been looking forwards to it for a long time. I think I might just be one of the biggest STOMP fans in the world – who else has actually sat down and transcribed an entire STOMP performance, by hand, into separate percussion parts? Heh. STOMP played an integral part of converting me into becoming an active percussionist, back when I first heard about them in secondary one. After realizing the potential of musical creation from a percussionists’ point of view, I realized that there was so much depth and room for creativity, and that I just had to go out and find it myself. In many ways, that has been the motivating factor which has led me to where I am, today.
First row seats, smack dab in the middle as well. Beat that.
Paranoia out.
Anyway, I thought this deserved it’s own update. Just came home from watching Cirque Du Soleil’s Quidam. While I understand it’s not the absolute best of their productions, I had an unforgettable experience all the same. It was a treat for all the senses, bar none. It wasn’t a one-sided performance with only visual splendor and effects – it was provocative, deep, and emotionally moving. And there’s such a deep appreciation for theatrics, drama, and performance art that even a person like me could feel that sort of presence.
The tent, or the Grand Chapiteau, was a lot smaller inside than it looked from the outside. Frankly, I didn’t expect that – some part of me had a preconception of what to expect, and I was thinking of something like some grandstand with some rings in the middle, set in some coliseum style stadium. However, all I saw were rows upon rows of seats, packed tightly around the centre stage, the front row literally hugging the stage already. I mentioned to Weibin how peculiar I thought that was, and he told me that this sort of circus wasn’t the sort of circus I’d come expect from funfairs or really horrid B-grade shows. I mean, I knew that modern day circuses didn’t involve many animals and stuff, and hence could afford to be smaller and more compact – but this looked like some performance stage to me. He told me that this was more of an abstract, bourgeois thing, with a larger emphasis on theatrics, riggings, and imagery. How right he was.
Each performance was dazzling, from the Diabolos (with the girls who somehow reminded me of The Shining), the aerial hoops, the crimson silk contortion thingie, all the acrobatics and skipping, and many more – all linked by dynamic interlude performances, and music which was both reactive and emotional. The musicians were astounding. They responded perfectly to all the visual cues, be it improvised or not – and the understanding between the musicians and performers is something clearly forged only from years of experience and appreciation for each others works, poking fun at each other, and playfully messing each others’ cues up. The drummer (inevitably) was simple breathtaking, sitting soundly in his sound chamber, one of the few I’ve seen in actual performance, together with his mixing boards and equalizers, slamming out rolling fills and syncopations perfectly in time with the formers. His hi-hat was simply mind-numbing in it’s subtle perfection.
The clowns were fantastic. The best I’ve ever seen in person – the true silent comedians of the modern age, mature and quick-witted in their humour, and reactive to changing conditions. I’ve never laughed that hard before, and given my absolute lack of humour, that’s saying something. The two skits their acted out with the assistance of a sporting audience were reminiscent of an episode of Who’s Line is it Anyway, but I guess the fact that it’s all right in front of you on the stage makes it all the more appealing and exciting. In fact, a lot of performance art is like that – you just have to be there to feel it. It’s a sensory experience, and I have no doubt that Quidam falls squarely into that category.
Weibin called it ‘the Beautiful People Parade’, and I couldn’t agree more, I guess. And that’s not only on stage – the audience were of a different type from, say, a movie audience or some band concert audience. This audience was constituted of mostly Caucasians, couples, and rather pasty skinned folk, who clearly spend too much time in their plush offices instead of out in the sun. And ANYONE on that stage, including the little girls, could have beaten all of us up at the same time, taken our lunch money, and done bench presses using us. Scary, beautiful, talented, silent people.
We spent some time discussing the whole story behind Quidam was well – mapping out our own framework of reflection about the various scenes, and how they tied together, how they critiqued modern day society, and specifically, the dysfunctional family which is becoming so increasingly predominant. Our literary deductions blew my mind, as usual – it’s amazing what happens when you get a group of people who just love to look too deeply into things together to discuss about such things. Fascinating.
The ticket cost a bomb – third row seats – but after walking out of there, there’s an unspoken, universal consensus that every cent was worth it, and all was right in the world. I would watch it again if I had limitless funds. Sadly, that day has not come yet. This sort of theatrical performance is an experience unlike any other, and it is things like that that foster my deeper appreciation of the cultural scene. Things which plebeians who just brush aside lightly, saying, ‘what? Hundred and thirty bucks? I could buy so many shirts and blahblahblah with that! No!’ The modern day person who only cares about material gains and deprives his soul of any appreciation for the living. I can only be thankful that I have friends who feel the same way – friends who can actually drag me out and tell me, ‘have you heard about this performance coming? You’ve got to watch it…’. For that, I am truly glad. It is one of the things I will miss, once I migrate from this place.
STOMP is next Saturday. I have been looking forwards to it for a long time. I think I might just be one of the biggest STOMP fans in the world – who else has actually sat down and transcribed an entire STOMP performance, by hand, into separate percussion parts? Heh. STOMP played an integral part of converting me into becoming an active percussionist, back when I first heard about them in secondary one. After realizing the potential of musical creation from a percussionists’ point of view, I realized that there was so much depth and room for creativity, and that I just had to go out and find it myself. In many ways, that has been the motivating factor which has led me to where I am, today.
First row seats, smack dab in the middle as well. Beat that.
Paranoia out.
# posted by Paranoia Incarnate @ 9:58 AM 
