A feminist update on 'The Tempest' from Cirque du Soleil

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You know feminism has gone mainstream when Cirque du Soleil makes a show that is billed as a “homage to women”. Amaluna is the Canadian circus’s take on The Tempest, in which Prospera, a quartet of Storm Goddesses, a Moon Goddess in a hoop, a ballet dancing Peacock Goddess and a troupe of Amazons on the parallel bars celebrate Miranda’s coming of age with all manner of flying acrobatics and contortions.

Shakespeare would probably have been a bit confused but as always with a Cirque show, the plot is secondary to the spectacle. To sum it up, there’s a storm, which brings a hunk called Romeo to the island; he and Miranda fall in love but Miranda’s jealous lizard friend, who has a large, horny tail, tries to thwart their romance with a red ball.

It is quite like every other Cirque show, then. There’s an incomprehensible story, some entirely expendable clowns, a lot of weird wigs, Lycra and stagey make-up and, holding the whole thing together, extraordinary feats of human physicality.

It’s been 32 years since Cirque’s first performance in a borrowed tent in Quebec and since then their 35 shows have been seen by over 100 million spectators in 40 countries. Given that, the most remarkable thing about Amaluna is that it contains scenes and acts that are quite new. I’ve seen 10 Cirque shows and this is the first time I’ve ever seen a woman in a white bikini balancing on a tiny pole on one hand on the edge of a bowl of water before diving in, to re-emerge and balance, dripping wet, on one foot for a bit longer.

That is Miranda’s set piece; Romeo’s is equally impressive. He climbs up a tall pole then hangs off it at various angles with the gravity-defying grace of Tim Peake in space. Then he slides down it face first, holding on by his ankles and stops with his nose an inch from the ground.

There’s also an unusually quiet episode from the “Balance Goddess” who picks up lots of large palm fronds with her feet and balances them on top of one another to create a large, beautiful tree. It’s quite odd, but also quite mesmerising.

This is Cirque’s 20th year at the Royal Albert Hall and there is a sense that they are trying to do something different. It doesn’t always work. The fact that the show is female-led wouldn’t really be noticeable if it wasn’t for the programme notes. The focus given to the female rock band is unnecessary – no one goes to a Cirque show for the music, especially not if the players look like extras from We Will Rock You. Amaluna is also a little slower than the usual brash, fast spectacle; at times the pace drags.

Still, the good bits are uniformly, gaspingly spectacular. I loved the storm with three women whirling around on ribbons in the sky. And the exploits of the final team of acrobats who jump on to one another’s outstretched hands and feet and stack up like a human house of cards are quite thrilling.
The clowns are appalling, as usual.

To 6 March (020 7589 8212)