Cirque Du Soleil, Royal Albert Hall, London

In the olden days when they dreamed of running away to join the circus, little boys and girls envisaged nothing more strenuous than a spot of light plate-spinning. Never in their wildest dreams would they have conceived of the dizzying spectacle that is Dralion.

They cannot have imagined a show encompassing 3,000 costumes, 55 performers from countries as far apart as Chile, the Ivory Coast, the US, China, the Ukraine, the UK and Brazil, and a music and light show that would not have looked out of place at a Genesis gig circa 1977. Breathtaking is an overused word in the critic's lexicon, but this is one occasion where it really is merited.

Fusing the most dynamic elements of circus and theatre, Cirque du Soleil have revolutionised the art form. They have turned it into something which is son et lumière, rather than spit and sawdust. The transformation in the fortunes of the company has been equally dramatic. Since their foundation in 1984, they have mushroomed from a rag-tag band of Quebec street entertainers into a billion-dollar global industry, playing to nigh on 40 million people. Last year alone, they performed to seven million - a number which many major multinationals would envy.

Directed by Guy Caron, Dralion is nominally a mythic spin on the four elements - earth, air, fire and water. But don't bother trying to locate a plot; far better to sit back and soak up the sensation. It is a mesmerising, all-singing, all-dancing experience. The acts are interspersed with all manner of fancy stage business - from prancing Chinese dragons, to African tribal dancing.

Several acts in the European premiere at the Albert Hall in London last Thursday stood out. The exuberant athleticism of the hoop-divers, the four trapeze artists who flew through the air and the Chinese "teeterboard'' troupe who succeeded in catapulting a woman to the top of a five-person tower. In a coup de théâtre at the start of the second half, a quartet of extravagantly dressed acrobats were suspended 40ft off the ground and slowly rotated while they were silhouetted inside a gargantuan canvass cylinder: truly a thing of beauty.

For me, however, the highlight was the ravishing aerial pas de deux. Draped in sumptuous blue light and matching silk, this exquisite duo of acrobats performed a seductive mid-air dance. They were sensuality made flesh. It is little surprise to hear that theatrical visionaries such as Robert Lepage are keen to collaborate with Cirque du Soleil.

The one serious drawback was the trio of dinner-jacketed clowns who interrupted proceedings on no fewer than five occasions. Maybe, like P Diddy, I'm just clown-phobic, but an act that was supposed to induce laughter brought, I'm afraid, only scowls to my face.

The threesome were no different from what you'd see at the bog-standard circus on your local common and - worse - they kept breaking the spell. Whenever they were on, one thought ran through my mind: send off the clowns.

That aside, it was a "Big Night Out". For years in this country, circus has suffered from a tawdry image. But this company have proved that there is more to the genre than moth-eaten budgies forlornly negotiating table-top obstacle-courses and jugglers in spangly jumpsuits listlessly tossing skittles at each other.

Circus can be grand. It can be gorgeous. And it can be glam. Cirque du Soleil have achieved what once appeared impossible: they have sexed up the circus.

To 13 February (020-7589 8212)