Poor Cirque du Soleil: It can’t even get flop buzz in New York.The Canadian circus behemoth’s tried to establish a New York beachhead for years. But “Banana Shpeel” slipped up before it even opened, and now there’s “Paramour,” a new Broadway spectacular that isn’t. Perhaps its theater’s earlier tenant, “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark,” left some bad juju behind.
Rather than play up what it does best — eye-popping stunts and trippy visuals tied together by a loose concept — Cirque went for a Franken-show made up of misshapen parts: circus, dance, musical numbers, interactive projections.
Because we’re on Broadway, there’s a musical-theater framework with a sort-of plot and bland songs.
At first you think it all takes place in the 1930s, as the set and costumes heavily draw from Art Deco. A director casts a young singer named Indigo (Ruby Lewis) in his new movie, there’s a love triangle with her pianist and then all hell breaks loose — for the audience. The movie appears to be a Cleopatra epic, until it’s a Western hoedown. The time period is hazy, especially since the songs sound pretty modern — if you can call ABBA modern.
At least in regular Cirque shows you can enjoy getting lost, because there’s nothing to understand. Here there’s a story and still nothing makes sense.
Hiring French choreographer Philippe Decouflé to direct wasn’t a bad idea: He’s proven effective on a scale both large (the opening of the 1992 Winter Olympics) and intimate (the floor show at the infamous topless cabaret Crazy Horse Paris).
The first act is tantalizingly close to working, especially if you can blank out the godawful dialogue. What’s surprising, though, is how relatively little circus there is — the highlight an aerial routine by cyborgian blond identical twins Andrew and Kevin Atherton.
But after intermission, it looks like Decouflé just threw in the towel. The second act devolves into an incoherent mess topped off by an interminable rooftop chase involving trampolines.
Come back, Spidey — all is forgiven!