Review - Cirque Dreams Jungle Fantasy: Somewhere That's Green

It's not every evening you take your seat at a Broadway theatre, open your Playbill, and see credits like these in the cast bios:

Uranmandakh Amarsanaa is a recent graduate of the Mongolian State School of Contortion.

Buyankhishig Ganbaatar has been performing the art of contortion since childhood.

Stefka Jordanova is one of the few left in the world today still performing the Bulgarian art of hair spinning.

Not a Julliard grad in the bunch, but Cirque Dreams Jungle Fantasy, though it plays at a theatre that once housed Ethel Merman, Alfred Drake and Bombay Dreams (just checking to see if you're paying attention) is not exactly aimed at the typical New York theatre audience and it certainly wouldn't be fair to review it as such. But that's not to say it isn't extremely entertaining and a perfectly fun bit of summer diversion. Kinda like Tarzan, the Musical without the book, music and lyrics.

Don't let the name confused you. This is not Montreal's world famous Cirque du Soleil, but a Florida-based company, founded by the show's director, Neil Goldberg, that also stars circus artists performing astonishing feats of balance, coordination, strength and yes, contortion. Less arty than their Canadian colleagues, the Cirque Dreams company displays a lot of humor, showmanship and family-friendly sexiness to go with their gasp-inducing physical skills.

Set designer Jon Craine and lighting designer Kate Johnston provide a lushly hued playing area while costume designers Lenora Taylor and Santiago Rojo dress the cast in loud splashes of color that create kaleidoscopic patterns when they go through their elaborate movements.

The plot, so to speak, simply has an adventurous lad (the goofily charismatic Marcello Balesttracci) being introduced to the many wonders of jungle life by a bare-midriffed Mother Nature (Jill Diane, who nicely belts out Jill Winters' innocuous new-agey songs about nature) and a hunky violin player who is growing out of a tree (Jared Burnett). Through a combination of costumes and body contortions, the company plays a variety of animals, most impressively the seemingly spineless lizards and a trio of emus who cramp their torsos tight while walking on their feet and sticking an arm up to serve as a neck and head.

In "Jungle Jumpin'" a gang of expert leapers (I have no idea what sort of animal they were supposed to be) bounce to multi-colored jump ropes, arranging themselves in amazingly complex patterns of intertwining roping and hopping. Stefka Jordanova, billed as a "hairialist," is lifted off the ground by her long, dark tresses and spins wildly in the air. Anatoliy Yeniy and Vladimir Dovgan, as balancing giraffes, make a vaudeville act out of balancing themselves on a tower of cylinders.

Various aerialists, jugglers, swingers, spinners and such add to the enjoyment. I wouldn't say any of my theatrical training prepared me to judge their expertise at such skills but I had a swell time. And if you have kids who like good reasons to yell, "Wow," I bet they will, too.