Cirque du Soleil brings high-flying act to Renton

A decade after enthralling audiences at Seattle's Goodwill Arts Festival in 1990, Canada's illustrious Cirque du Soleil is back - but this time, they've pitched their trademark white tents in Renton.

For at least the next month (the show may be extended until the end of August), the company will be performing "Saltimbanco," their signature melange of derring-do and eye-popping whimsy, in a big top right next to the Boeing factory. And the Boeing people could probably learn a thing or two about aeronautics from their high-flying new neighbors.

"Saltimbanco" (the word is an old Italian term for "street performer"), which was initially staged in 1992 by Franco Dragone, is brimming with the kind of gravity-teasing stunts that keep a crowd of youngsters and adults oohing and aahing.

Sleek acrobats in rainbow-colored bodysuits snake up poles and then slither back down them headfirst, braking to a halt mere inches from the ground. An agile charmer in hot-pink tights and tutu leaps gracefully from one impossibly high wire to another, dainty parasol in hand.

A quartet of elegant white-clad figures float, bounce and tumble in unison high up in the big top, like doves tethered to bungee cords.

Match these and other top skill acts with Cirque du Soleil's fantastic design work, nimble buffoonery, seamless choreography and entrancing music, and you'll understand why the Montreal-based outfit is one of the top entertainment attractions in North America. (The ensemble in Renton is just one of Cirque's seven busy troupes.)

Lasting about 2 1/2 hours (including a 30-minute intermission), "Saltimbanco" packs a lot of bang for the buck, and few slack patches. With tickets as high as $45.75 for youngsters under 13 and $65.25 for teens and adults, you should think twice about bringing children under 8, unless they have very sturdy attention spans.

And if you don't already have tickets in hand, try to come early to fetch them at the on-site box office. On Thursday's opening night, "Saltimbanco" started more than half an hour late due to very long lines at the ticket windows. Cirque reps say the logjam was atypical, but it's still wise to avoid any last-minute rush.

Once inside the surprisingly comfortable big top, however, such irritations tend to melt away under Cirque's shimmery spell. First a cadre of bizarrely attired, chattering clowns tear through the crowd stealing purses and cell phones, polishing bald pates and spreading aggressive merriment.

Then the lights dim, and an imaginary community of fantastic creatures emerges from a glowing drape. They are neither human nor animal, but unearthly beings resplendent in bold makeup and snub-nosed white masks, and adorned in gloriously flamboyant costumes by Dominique Lemieux that draw on various periods of carnival and circus history.

Among the deft, exuberant company members you'll spot aspects of the medieval gargoyle look and classic Renaissance jester's fool's cap, along with commedia dell'arte capes and candy-colored Muppet-style duds. One of the main clowns is a pot-bellied mouse in a flashy blue version of a Teletubbies outfit. And his beefier cohort, in bright yellow bodysuit and black topknot, looks like something out of "The Mikado."

There is less of a story line here than in newer Cirque shows. But the acts are framed by the well-choreographed antics of a sprightly community "chorus" that is always watching, cavorting and just lazing around.

And they tend to enhance, rather than distract from, the major skill acts on display. A highlight is the exquisite acrobatic adagio performed by the husband-and-wife team of Andrei and Oxana Vintilov and their stunningly elastic daughter, Daria. Their balletic series of pyramids and triads is not only technically superb, but a poignant display of family grace and unity.

Another stunner is the Russian Swing act, in which a small mob of punky-picturesque tumblers perform triple somersaults and other feats from a giant communal swing set in furious motion. There's also a terrific juggler named Maria Choodu, who makes seven-ball juggling look easy. And the twin muscle men, Daniel and Jacek Gutszmit, display herculean balancing tricks.

The trapeze work from young Shana Carroll is simple and lovely. But the show's aerial zenith is that seraphic bungee number, performed to the sensuous strains of an old Italian aria - a sublime stroke in a live musical score by Rene Dupere that also fuses hip-hop, Middle Eastern folk and other sonic accents in an expert synth-pop blend.

There are just two acts that linger too long. One is by a flamenco-accented female duo, who create a tattoo of metallic percussion by swinging weighted ropes known as bolas.

The other is an overextended audience-participation bit by the show's lead clown, Julien Cottereau. A very clever fellow with a mischievous persona, this imp speaks only in clicks, gasps, squeaks, pops and other adroit sound effects. But even with a willing dupe at his side, 20 minutes is a long time for this sort of thing.

Those are small glitches, though, in a show that really does deliver the magic Cirque du Soleil promises. It's a fine reintroduction of the company to the Puget Sound region.