Speaking of which, Christian arrives on crutches to give me some last-minute

pointers. We run the whole piece with music, which is a computerized score enhanced with Stephan Gariepy's saxophone. He also runs the sound board, a feat of coordination in itself! It is evident why the director, Pierre Boileau, lists "humor and music" as his strengths.

 

As for the clubs, I just try to pretend they are my own. As for the costume, it feels strange to wear points with black suspenders and enough zippers for Starlight Express over a pale bodysuit. But it fits, and I presume that these Canadian costumers understand the world of fashion better than I.

 

Waiting backstage, I try to station myself in a good spot to view the show. Clown Boris (Roch Jutras) is already surfing the crowd with his pre-show antics. When Francesca (Lise Lpine) takes the stage in a flamboyant pink dress, Boris tries to convince her that he has been hired as the new clown. I know just how he feels!

 

Francesca, who speaks mostly Spanish, keeps telling him to come back later. When Boris persists in his practical jokes, Francesca summons her bodyguards, played by the rest of the cast. Wearing long purple coats and hats, like New York doormen in their best uniforms, they surround Boris with acrobatic choreography. Soon a bicycle gets into the act, and Jeannot Painchaud is left alone in the spotlight.

 

With his silky yellow shirt and flamenco style, he takes command of the stage in a striking solo piece. Painchaud started as a street performer and he almost dares the audience to look away. With his fiery aloofness and style of movement, he may become the Francis Brunn of bicycle acts. By the time the rest of the cast gets involved, I have almost forgotten why I am here. Brigette taps me on the shoulder and hands me the costume we are sharing. Everyone else is sweating now from the exertion, but I am shivering in the wings. I get ready to run on with the others just as a puff of fog shoots into the air.

 

Too late to wonder about that - we're off! (on, that is...) This piece has a more festive, quirky atmosphere than the other still acts, and I can feel the audience smiling at our seemingly chaotic configurations. The music certainly keeps us moving. Now and then words are woven into the soundtrack: "Don't drop it" can be heard during Painchaud's three club solo, expressing the sentiments of the whole cast.

 

We move on to some riskier patterns involving two-high towers (luckily, I feed from the floor). Sylvain Drolet is usually on top of such structures, as he also performs hand balancing with the brothers Alain and Damien Boudreau. After impersonating a military marching band of sorts, we all line up downstage for the dreaded simultaneous three club start. I wonder what the odds are of all five of us catching this on the same night? Suffice it to say, our second night was perfect! Sylvain and I exit to shuffle clubs while Daniel Cyr and a partner take over with an acrobatic passing sequence.

 

After my little four club bit, it's on to the finale - a very fast box pattern around Sylvain. We end by throwing all the clubs at Sylvain, who has to be resuccitated by a doctor who bears a strange resemblance to Boris.

 

Backstage everyone is patting each other on the back and giving Canadian high-fives.

 

Gosh! I feel like one of the gang! In a moment I trade costumes and resume my role as an innocent bystander, just in time to watch Marc Gauthier's rope­climbing act. With his long, dark hair and boots, he looks like a pirate scaling the mast. If one tries to imagine all the different ways a person can hang from a rope with no hands, one would probably fall short of the variety displayed here. As he strives toward the ceiling, undergoing numerous backslides, Gauthier turns the simple act of climbing a rope into an ode to the human condition. His final plummet is both startling and moving to the audience.

 

In the next act, Boris and Francesca literally out-do themselves in a weight­lifting competition. When the diminutive Boris takes off his cape to reveal gargantuan muscles, the audience collapses in hilarity: Boris simply collapses!

 

The most memorable piece for me was Daniel Cyr's free-standing ladder act. With a tranquil presence and a blue costume that looks like a spare from "Waterworld," Cyr begins kneeling on the stage as if meditating. The ladder hovers over his head like a figment of the imagination before he takes possession of it. What follows is certainly the most complex, original and poetic use of a ladder I have ever seen. This is one of those rare acts in which the performer and the prop truly manipulate each other until the division between them fades completely:

 

Cyr is one of the founders of Cirque Eloize, which began in 1993. After the show we discussed the inherent difficulties of bringing an ensemble to this level. "It's hard at first," he recalled. "But if you believe in what you do and stick to it the rest will follow."

 

To sum up the rest of the week: Thursday the jugglers do a no-drop act and win a bet with Francesca, who supplies champagne. Friday Christian Harel hobbles in on one crutch and throws a few clubs in rehearsal. That night Paul Binder and friends see the show and invite us to the Big Apple on Christmas. Saturday I do two shows with Eloize and a crutchless Harel points out I have done as many shows as he has. I sense he wants his part back! Sunday I am off Broadway once again, but return to see Harel perform. Monday I see the Eloize folks once more, this time in the audience at the Big Apple Circus. When Kris Kremo is introduced, the audience clearly has no idea who he is, yet within 30 seconds they have fallen in love. I don't think I'll be filling in for him any time soon! To see such an act made me proud to be a juggler as I headed back to my humdrum life on the road with Lazer Vaudeville.

 

Do try to see Cirque Eloize if they ever pass through your hometown. And if the phone rings on that day, answer it!