For that short span of time under the Grand Chapiteau we are taken to another world of wonder and possibility. But we know this world of bugs, this island, this city isn’t real – I mean reality real. We see artists on stage, in character, performing their amazing feats with little evident effort. But these aren’t bugs or birds or urban dwellers. It’s a show – a theatrical presentation – and we know after this respite from reality it might be raining or cold as we leave the womb of the tent or theater and walk back to our car. It’s a theatrical production that involves much more than what’s presented on the stage, with numerous technical activities occurring simultaneously that help create a seamless whole. There is a life beyond the stage performance, though, a real life of training and dressing and rehearsal and often just – waiting. As full of wonder and possibility as the world presented onstage.
Cirque fans know well the layout of a Cirque tent site with its box office, concessions tents, VIP tent, and Grand Chapiteau. They are also aware of many of the backstage functions such as the kitchen, onsite school, artistic tent and other infrastructure. Indeed, we at Fascination! have placed an emphasis on expanding our knowledge of Cirque du Soleil’s behind-the-scenes operations. We have cited (or written ourselves) articles exploring some of these functions. But very little for these pages about what happens backstage during a show performance.
It was during OVO’s stop in Portland, Oregon this past May that we were offered a special opportunity to expand our knowledge. Thanks to an invitation from a kind friend who has made acquaintances within the cast, we are here to experience something offered to a select few – the opportunity to witness the goings on inside the Artistic Tent during a performance. For Cirque fans such as us this was an opportunity we couldn’t pass up!
In past visits to downtown Portland Cirque du Soleil has set up near the Willamette River that bisects the city, on a lot situated at the southern confluence of I-5 and I-405, highly visible. This time that site was not available, having since been converted to a parking lot for light rail users. The replacement site is in the north of the city in the front parking lot of the Portland Expo Center (www.expocenter.org), an expanse of large meeting halls home to craft expos, gun shows and community garage sales at the tail end of one of the city’s light rail lines. Visible off to the right just after crossing the Columbia River while heading south into the city, the site is nicely compact with its entrance courtyard just steps from the light rail station. It is here three intrepid Cirque Passionates have gathered on a Saturday afternoon.
Enter the Inner Sanctum
At the pre-arranged time of 7:40pm (after having watched the 4pm matinee) my wife and I and our friend arrive at the rear entrance gate. The security person relays our arrival to someone walking the backstage of the site, and through a series of other relays the message makes its way inside. Soon our host, a quiet but affable, compact, muscular gentleman, wearing his stage makeup but in street clothes, comes back to greet us and sign us in. We slap Cirque du Soleil “Visitor” passes onto our chests and follow him. We walk past the kitchen and repair shop, then past artist bathrooms flanking either side of a fabric-topped tent covering a blue padded central area. From there we are admitted past the metal and glass entrance door to the Artistic Tent.
Bringing guests into the Artistic Tent during a performance is not something every tour does, we are told. On OVO artists or a crew member can admit (and must chaperone) up to four people per show. Our host was kind enough to offer the privilege to our mutual friend, who has seen the show multiple times and has befriended several of the cast members. Since he works for a candy manufacturer he always comes bearing heavy boxes of candy of all types which is very popular with the artists. Never underestimate the power of food to create friendships.
The Artistic Tent is spacious, but only about half as large as the connected Grand Chapiteau. To best visualize the layout, imagine looking down from the top of the Artistic Tent. Assume the tunnel connecting the Artistic Tent to the Grand Chapiteau to be “north” (in Portland’s configuration it’s actually east, but work with me here). To the northwest, the canvas walls hold props used during practice – bits of food for foot juggling, handbalancing canes, exercise balls, pairs of cricket leg costume pieces hung on hooks. Directly west, behind a loose curtain, is the physiotherapy area and its massage table. South of that is the repair area for costuming, shoes and headwear. Racks of tightly-packed costumes clutter a thin tent extension that juts out like an appendix to the southwest. This area is also home to the stock of makeup and sewing supplies. Directly south is the door that exits to the outside area and the restrooms. In the center of the tent is an array of acrobatic and warm-up/practice equipment; a trampoline, a slack wire. The entire center area is covered in blue padded mats – don’t walk on those with street shoes!
Covering roughly a quarter of the tent on the east side is an area separated from the rest of the tent by blue curtains. These curtains separate the artists’ costume and makeup area from the rest of the tent and allow a bit of privacy to change clothes and get into character. The only people to enter are artists and a few select show personnel.
In the northeast section, three black well-used couches form a “U” around a low table. Against the northeast wall of the tent sits a road case. On top of the road case sits a flat panel monitor displaying a live static picture of the stage, from the camera at the back of the Grand Chapiteau that records each show. This is the “Living Room” section of the tent. The couches will be constantly occupied by a rotating cast of costumed bugs as the show progresses. Given the size of the Living Room area the TV seems small, especially considering how many people will use it to keep track of the shows progress over the next two and a half hours. We imagine this is a consequence of touring, since space is at a premium.
On the canvas wall to the right of the tunnel that leads to the backstage area of the Grand Chapiteau is a large white board divided into many sections. Down the left side is the order of the acts, with smaller notes on who is performing. Other sections are labeled Completely Out, Modified, Back In, Cues Only; under some of these can be seen the first name of one or more artists. Still other sections give the outside temperature & humidity(!), as well as the occupancy of the tent, which for this performance (8pm on a Saturday) is 83%.
To the right of that board is the “Schedule for Sunday” board which lists the time the site opens tomorrow, when the tent opens, and when the shows start and end. Still further to the right is a large full-length mirror in which artists primp, checking their look before they go onstage. Next to it is a poster dictating the Artistic Tent Rules & Procedures, with sections discussing Show Call, Food, Drinking and Smoking.
In front of the main white board is a road case serving as the Backstage Manager’s table. This is headquarters for behind-the-scenes personnel. Here the Backstage Managers stand and look out upon the tent, listening intently for communications over the radio through their earpieces.
There is no direct lighting. All the lights are aimed upward from the tent support poles toward the white top of the Artistic Tent, where it reflects back bathing the entire area in warm soft light. There is plenty of light to see however.
We are escorted to three metal folding chairs in the Living Room. Taped to the front of the chair is a hard plastic placard that reads, “OVO – Guest.” It hits right about our mid-back, making it uncomfortable. We scoot the three chairs close together, right at the 90-degree void space between two of the couches. We keep them as close as possible to the couches, trying to take the minimum amount of space.
From our small observation area we are interlopers, not part of the normal order. Like a termite in an ant colony, only no one pays any attention to us or looks at us as invaders. They don’t look at us much at all from what we can tell; they naturally have other things on their minds. It’s as though we were hunkered down camouflaged in a forest, hiding in plain sight. For our part we just observe what’s happening around us, and for fans like us there is much to observe.
A Place to Wait
Soon you realize that, as the Grand Chapiteau is the workplace – the factory floor – the Artistic Tent is the break room. It’s divided up into several sections that mimic a residence – a living room with couches and a television, a huge bedroom for changing into costume and applying makeup, a workshop and an exercise room. The kitchen is detached but close by; bathrooms are just beyond the door.
Shortly before the show begins there is much talking in multiple tongues. A Cricket wanders by and adjusts his leg pads which are connected to the rest of the costume with Velcro. We are later told each costume costs approximately $18,000. We chat with a pretty Brazilian named Angela who, when she finds out we are from Seattle where Amaluna will soon be playing, asks us to relay a message to a cast member named Sebastian – that he is missed.
Suddenly a buzzer rings. Everyone, now in full costume and makeup, leaves through the connecting tunnel. The tent falls silent except for the resonance of the music onstage and the low roar of air rushing from the ventilation system.
The show has begun.
After the opening segment, various artists return to the tent in small groups. They don’t seem to be tired or out of breath when they come offstage. By the time they make it through the backstage area and the connecting tunnel many have removed their headwear. Some of them stay in their costumes; many others vanish into the costume/makeup area and return in various stages of dress. Sometimes they reappear in a t-shirt or tank top while still wearing the bottom part of their costume. Others change completely, supplementing the casual top with shorts or sweat pants. It’s surprising to us how many artists, after their act or current cue is done, change out of their costume during the show and how quickly they do it. While awaiting their next cue many of them find places to sit, either on the mats or on the couches, and spend time poking at their cell phones, or in several cases iPads.
Our friend takes a moment to open and unpack the candy he has brought for the cast on the table in front of the couches. Artists occasionally come by and pick through the candy, taking pieces of what they like, acknowledging him for the favor. He knows many members of the cast by name; they accept him as a peer. You can see why he is a popular guy – he brings candy!
A couple of the Ant foot jugglers practice while lying on the mats in one corner of the tent. “Food” flies into the air between their upstretched feet. Suddenly one of the Backstage Managers yells, “Go to Work!” They stop practicing and without a word walk toward the tunnel.
One of the Scarabs (from the Volant act, an aerial combination of Banquine and Russian Swing) a beefy muscular guy in full costume and makeup, with some bits of gold flecking on his moustache, sits near us on the couch staring straight ahead and paying us no mind. He silently watches the monitor as the show progresses. Other members of the act drift over to join him, occasionally conversing in Russian. With the Scarabs sitting so near to us it’s easy to see their costumes up close; we note the distressing on the costume materials. Occasionally one can spot tiny holes or nicks which you wouldn’t see from the stage, the result of multiple performances.
Soon enough it is time for Volant, the climax of the first act. After the Scarabs leave other artists take over positions on the couches. There is a constant migration of “insects” on and off the couches and in and out of the tent, as they leave to perform their duties onstage and return. Watching so many costumes pass by so closely (and in some cases sitting right next to us) it’s easy to notice the hard work and detail that goes into making them. Materials you wouldn’t expect, things that look like leather or plastic or feather or hair but aren’t. The “nubs” on the helmet of the Ladybug, for example, are wooden drawer pulls. The costumes are made for flexibility and to make them easy to put on and take off. If a costume wanders close you can notice paint patches or sometimes small scars or scratches in the material. My wife asks to take a closer look at the costume of one of the artists that has stopped to talk with our friend, and examines the way elastic is used to gather the costume material, making it look more layered and thicker than it actually is. Some of the techniques used are ingenious to us, though must be commonplace in stage costuming.
The dominant sound we hear throughout the performance is the booming bass from the subwoofers underneath the grandstand seats. At the end of acts the muffled sound of applause adds itself to the mix. Otherwise, the tent is basically – and surprisingly – silent.
Suddenly a murmur rises from those assembled on the couches watching the monitor. There has been a fall. One of the Scarabs from the Volant act missed the arms of the catcher and fell into the net. There was no injury, but it’s a rare occurrence the artists note with concern. The fallen Scarab waddles his way to a rope ladder and ascends to the perch he would have held if he had been caught. He doesn’t re-try the trick and the act continues on.
“Intermission, 30 minutes!” is called from the Backstage Managers desk. The musicians follow the other artists back into the tent. Unexpectedly, it stays fairly quiet. We expected it would get noisier from artists chatting about how the show is going, but there is little of that. The loudest sounds are footsteps as Artists come into the Artistic Tent. More cell phones and iPads appear in artist’s hands.
While we’re watching other goings on in the tent, most of the Scarab Volant crew has gathered on the couches in the Living Room. The picture on the monitor, which up to now had been a static shot of a bare stage, suddenly changes to a closer view of the Volant act. The video follows the performance closely, focusing on just the right area at just the right cue to cover all the action. One of the trainers was taping the act (from the angle it looks like from the back of the aisle to the left of Section 200), something we’re told happens a lot. They focus on the fall, playing it at regular speed and in slow motion several times, all watching intently. The artist who fell makes hand gestures and comments in Russian to his comrades.
In Transition
Eventually the second act starts. One of the Backstage Managers shoos the Flea Girls out to the Grand Chapiteau.
Midway through the second act the noise level in the Artistic Tent starts to rise, getting the noisiest it has been. The artists are into the home stretch of their 8-hour day, the middle of the last act of the last show of the day. More artists are chattering to each other and the diversity of languages, with their rolling R’s and differing consonant and vowel sounds, is intriguing to an ear versed only in English. Some of the Crickets, meanwhile, start warming up for their act on the trampoline at the back of the tent, bouncing high and doing twists and somersaults.
There is a missing act in the show. Slack Wire is out – an artist injury. He has been injured for a while but there is no extra act (sometimes called a “swing act”) to put in his place. So the second act is just – shorter. The devoted Cirque fan (such as the readers of Fascination!) and the artists and crew would notice this but the rest of the audience is oblivious. We hear from our host that OVO is currently going through a number of changes. Many new artists are being incorporated into the show right now, mostly due to artist injuries. “Many people are hurt,” he says.
We chat with one of the artists sitting on the couches, asking about differences in crowd reactions. She remarks the audiences in Mexico City (they were there in November and December of 2011) were “cordial but not friendly” to OVO. We start to talk about why that might be when the trampoline music starts. Our conversation abruptly stops – almost instinctively everyone, including the Scarabs who have been taking up most of the space on the couches, gets up and leaves. Everyone is preparing for the finale. The tent becomes very quiet, again.
The show ends with a raucous curtain call, the white noise of applause from the standing ovation dimmed by the layers of canvas between the tents. The backstage technicians, dressed in all black, most of them wearing headset radios, gather in a line at the entrance to the tent from the connecting tunnel. They high five artists as they come off stage in single file. Some don’t acknowledge the uplifted hands, some acknowledge with a generic slap, others high five the techs with enthusiasm. Another day done, another two shows in the books.
Tomorrow, Sunday, is an early call with the matinee three hours earlier than today. Partying on Saturday night is a rarity. All the artists vanish behind the blue curtain to change clothes and remove makeup. Some of them are speedy, only taking a few minutes to completely transition into street clothes and normal face. They gather their belongings and, staring intently at their cell phones make their way out the back of the tent, past the bathrooms and the kitchen, to the security gate at the back of the lot where a bus waits to take them back to their housing.
Living the Lifestyle
Later, as we leave the deserted backstage area, out the way we came, we are reminded of a quote from a Cirque artist we found in a print interview. The artist referred to “Cirque as a lifestyle.” To some of these artists it isn’t just the job – the show and their part in it – that’s important, it’s the entire package. The life of training, fitness and discipline, liking the outdoors and weather, traveling nomadically. Seeking out and reveling in the varying cultures of their workmates. Working with many different types of people from numerous countries and cultures is integral to the circus tradition, but one most fans have had little experience with. Nor, we surmise, have many of the artists on tour, since so many are recruited and trained by Cirque from non-circus backgrounds such as gymnastics and athletics.
As we slowly walk back around the rear of the site toward our vehicle, after profusely thanking our host, we discuss the part of the “lifestyle” we have witnessed. There is lots of waiting for moments of performance. But there are many who crave it, especially when it is an opportunity to tour with Cirque du Soleil.
By now, late at night and some time after the show has finished, ours is the only car in the lot; it gleams under the yellow lights. Lighted also are the Cirque tents and grounds. It is quiet, peaceful, deserted. But activities continue behind the shuttered canvas. The concessions machines are cleaned, tills are counted, floors are swept, lost belongings are retrieved from under the Chapiteau seats. Even though the artists have left, supervisors will stay until late in the night, prepping the site.
Tomorrow is another show day.
