Cirque du Soleil’s OVO starts off intriguingly with a giant inflatable egg at centre stage, surrounded by a cast of insect characters.Marie-Andrée Lemire/Cirque du Soleil
Title: OVO
Written by: Deborah Colker
Performed by: Neiva Nascimento, Robin Beer, Mateo Amieva, Dani Maloney, Beau Sargent, Charlotte Fallu
Director: Deborah Colker
Company: Cirque du Soleil
Venue: 2150 Lake Shore Boulevard West
City: Toronto
Year: Until June 28, 2025
For decades, transitions were one of the best parts of seeing Cirque du Soleil perform. The group made up for paper-thin plots with more physical feats of transformation: The jaw-dropping moments that saw bodies launched into mid-air, the contortionist routines that saw human limbs twist into new creatures entirely. At Cirque du Soleil, change was a good thing.
As a kid, I loved seeing Cirque du Soleil perform. I loved wondering how on earth they landed those tricks, caught those juggling pins and climbed so high. Watching the performers wriggle and evolve was the epitome of entertainment – not knowing how they accomplished their gravity-defying feats was magical.
It’s a shame, then, that changes at Cirque du Soleil have resulted in a show that feels sluggish and underpowered compared to the company’s previous hits. Part of that comes from a shift in the scenery – Cirque du Soleil has pared down its Big Top and replaced it with a massive portable arena. (The largest freestanding arena in the world, according to the company.)
Much of OVO’s stunts are quite impressive and Nyamgerel Gankhuyag’s contortion act tests the limits of human flexibility.Marie-Andrée Lemire/Cirque du Soleil
No doubt there are logistical benefits to the switch – giant tents aren’t known for being particularly energy-efficient or easy to maintain.
But the new performance space feels like a cross between an Amazon warehouse and a portable classroom, and inside carries the air of a cheap, plasticky stadium. A sliver of the company’s iconic striped tent remains – to cover concession stands and merchandise queues – but the new, squared-off performance space just doesn’t pack the same visual punch as its circular vinyl predecessor.
OVO, first staged under the Big Top in 2009, starts off intriguingly enough: With a giant inflatable egg centre stage, surrounded by a swarm of insects. (Vibes-wise, think A Bug’s Life, or, perhaps more accurately, Obsidian Entertainment’s video game Grounded.)
As has become standard for Cirque du Soleil, OVO’s story is somewhat secondary to its aesthetics. Picture a rom-com between a ladybug (Neiva Nascimento) and a fly (Robin Beer). Add in about an hour and a half’s worth of gymnastics, trapeze and trampoline, and a few cutesy clown sequences about a budding romance between bugs. That’s pretty much the gist of it.
To be fair, a lot of OVO’s stunts are quite impressive. Eisuke Saito’s firefly-inspired diabolo routine is mesmerizing; the first act’s showstopper, an aerial cradle sequence in which artists hang and fling themselves from each other’s ankles, is also astounding.
The shorter second act has a few “wow” moments, too. Qiu Jiangming’s slackwire routine, performed on a massive wooden crescent moon, seems to defy most laws of physics, and Nyamgerel Gankhuyag’s contortion act tests the limits of human stretchiness.
The final performance, a “trampwall” sequence featuring trampolines, rock walls and inflatable tumbling mats, is a hoot, as well. But the day I attended OVO, the company announced a 10-minute technical hold just before the finale, zapping the energy from the arena as we sat in the dark waiting for the show to end. (Reps for Cirque du Soleil have since confirmed the hold was due to technical difficulties – funky pacing aside, it’s of course more important to ensure the performers are safe, and I’m glad to hear no one was hurt.)
But it’s Deborah Colker’s concept where OVO most consistently falls flat for me. The inflatable egg seen at the top of the show intermittently returns, a mystery that goes nowhere over the course of OVO’s runtime. What’s in the egg? We never find out.
Colker’s choreography, too, a sea of hand jives and basic steps, doesn’t take full advantage of the performers’ capabilities, and makes the transitions between acts feel a bit childish. Berna Ceppas’s score, ably performed live by a seven-piece band, doesn’t add much to the production, either – its abstract lyrics and drum-heavy interludes, inspired by the music of Brazil, are standard Cirque du Soleil fare that don’t really elevate OVO or its soundscape.
Liz Vandal’s costumes and Gringo Cardia’s set are OVO’s stronger stuff, playful design elements that make Colker’s concept feel more lived-in and thorough – contortionists’ legs become antennae, and clever clown shoes become reedy insect limbs. Visually speaking, at least, OVO is classic Cirque, with the standard of design audiences have come to expect over the years.
Liz Vandal’s costumes and Gringo Cardia’s set are OVO’s stronger elements that help bring the show to life.Marie-Andrée Lemire/Cirque du Soleil
On the whole, OVO is a stronger outing than last year’s Echo, whose persistently muddy concept, centred around a giant box, made it feel like a confused recreation of cirques past. OVO is more coherent, but it’s also a less original idea.
That said, will most casual Cirque du Soleil attendees care about any of these quibbles? Almost certainly not. OVO has (just) enough acrobatic oomph that most audience members should be sufficiently wowed.
But I’m still thinking about 2022’s Kurios, and 2023’s Kooza, Cirque du Soleil shows whose inventive stunts burned themselves into my memory, and whose striped tent in southern Etobicoke housed the magic with impermanent, old-timey charm. Change is hard, yes – Cirque du Soleil cut 110 jobs earlier this year, and their roster of shows continues to evolve – but change is what once made the company’s annual visits to Toronto so exciting. Not anymore, it would seem.