It’s raining in L’Hospitalet de Llobregat when Michael Smith, artistic director of KURIOS: Cabinet of Curiosities, welcomes us into his dressing room, next to the tent where Cirque du Soleil is set up until October 18. The rain reminds him of his native United Kingdom, although since joining the circus in 2005, his idea of home has changed. After so many years on the road, travelling from city to city and country to country, Smith feels, above all, “a citizen of the world.” His life, after all, is tied to the tent: wherever the show sets up, a new home begins for him.
Since joining the circus, he has worked on nine productions and tours, including Alegría, Dralion, Varekai, KOOZA, and Michael Jackson THE IMMORTAL World Tour. He now leads a team of 53 artists from 21 nationalities who perform KURIOS—a show created in 2014 by Michel Laprise—between six and ten times a week. The tour will then continue to Madrid and London and, after two months of rest, cross the pond to Australia. After 40 years in the entertainment industry—the first 20 as a freelance actor in musical theatre and cabarets—Smith jokes that he hopes to be retired by then.
But it’s hard to imagine him away from the stage when he talks about his work. He does so with spontaneity and emotion, two qualities that, he says, every circus artist should have. And then there are two other words that come up again and again in his conversation: joy and curiosity. These are the emotions he wants audiences to take away from the tent—and the ones he believes are most needed beyond it.
— When you work on a show like KURIOS, which was born from an artistic vision that is not your own and has been on stage for over a decade, how do you manage to keep this essence intact and, at the same time, make the show evolve and continue to surprise every night?
— KURIOS is a unique show in Cirque du Soleil's history because it has barely changed since its premiere, while other productions have evolved to a greater or lesser extent. I think it has to do with the strength of the idea it stems from: creating a space for the audience to explore their own imagination and feel that anything is possible when we look at life with curiosity.
But for that curiosity and creativity to truly reach the spectator, artists have to offer something authentic, something capable of awakening emotions. That's why, in the circus, routine is our worst enemy. After eight, nine, or ten shows a week, the challenge is to prevent what we do from ceasing to feel true.
That's where my job comes in: giving them different intentions in each act. What they do physically on stage may be exactly the same, but what happens emotionally and mentally doesn't have to be. If one of the artists reacts unexpectedly, without warning their partner, a domino effect occurs that makes the show feel alive again. These small changes force the artists to be present and to listen to each other. And, above all, we cannot lose sight of the main goal: that when the audience leaves the tent, they have felt something. Because only a real emotion can become a memory.
— And the audience also changes every day. How can their reaction influence the show?
—The audience is our stage partner. Every artist needs someone on the other side to react, because we don't do the show for ourselves, but for them. If they are very quiet and don't react, something is wrong. And I have to admit that in Spain they have welcomed us with great affection since we arrived at the beginning of the year; it is a very warm audience. In fact, when I watch the performance, I spend almost more time observing the audience than the show itself. If I notice that something is not working, I talk to the artists and we try something different. In the end, it's about listening to the audience and keeping it alive.
— You stated that routine is the worst enemy of the circus artist, but many of the tricks, acrobatics, and acts we see in KURIOS have been part of the circus for centuries. How do you make them still seem new in each performance?
— For the same reason: for them, each act is still a challenge. These artists come, for the most part, from elite sports and competition. They are used to demanding themselves and competing with themselves to be better, and they also transfer that mentality to the world of entertainment. My job is not to pressure them, but to accompany them and create an environment in which they can give their best and make each performance different.
"In sports competition, they are used to seeking perfection and containing their emotions. In the show, the opposite is true: I need them to open them up."
— But going from elite competition to being an artist involves a complete transformation.
— It's truly a big leap. In sports competition, they are used to seeking perfection and containing their emotions. In the show, the exact opposite happens: I need them to open up those emotions. When they do a triple jump in the air, the audience doesn't care how many pirouettes they do, because it's not a jury. What matters is how they land and what they convey to the audience at that moment.
— You work with 53 artists from 21 different nationalities. How do you get such a diverse team to function as a family?
— It's one of the things I like most about my job. Wherever we come from, we all share the same goal: to deliver the best possible show. And when you're on tour, traveling from one country to another and sharing so many experiences, that common goal ends up creating a true sense of family. When someone gets sick or injured, the others are there to take on their workload and help them.
I believe that these bonds also make us better people, because living with different people forces you to accept differences. Many times, racism and discrimination arise precisely from not knowing the other. Working in such a diverse environment helps you break those prejudices and, ultimately, transforms you as a person.
—You have also been on the other side, as an artist. How much does that experience influence your way of directing?
— When I was an artist, there were things that bothered me about how we were treated backstage. We were constantly reminded that we were replaceable, as if there was always someone waiting to take our place. When I arrived at Cirque in 2005, I felt that, finally, I had found my place: a place where people were respected and valued.
That's why, now that I'm on the other side, an important part of my job is to create a backstage environment where artists can express themselves freely and feel safe. They need to believe in themselves and their abilities to be able to go on stage, and not be constantly made to doubt. Of course, there's a big difference between trusting your abilities and being arrogant, and the audience perceives that difference.
And you also have to understand that life doesn't end when the show is over. If someone has a family emergency, their family comes first. We will take care of the show. Taking care of people and giving them that space is also part of my job.
— Circus life is surrounded by a certain romanticism and also many clichés. After so many years in this world, what ideas do you think people have about the life of artists that don't correspond to reality?
— It's true that this way of life is a bit romanticized: traveling the world, creating bonds that end up becoming a family... But many things have also changed. In traditional circus, the artists themselves set up the tent and then lived in caravans around it, traveling from one place to another. We are also on tour, but let's say we do it in a much more comfortable way: we do glamping! [Laughs.]
In the end, the important thing is that the people who work in this industry feel cared for and respected. It's a demanding way of life that requires a lot of perfection and discipline, and that's why I believe taking care of people should be a priority.
— You said that circus life has evolved, but so has our way of consuming entertainment. In a world of screens and social media, is it increasingly difficult to achieve that live wow effect?
— I believe that what no technology can replace is the experience of being together at a live show. During the pandemic, I realized how much I missed going to the theater. When you share an emotion with other people, that emotion becomes more intense. You can see something incredible on a screen, but it's not the same as experiencing it in a room, surrounded by people who are feeling the same thing as you. That's why art and culture are so important: because they define us.
— It's contagious. When someone shouts with joy, it infects the rest.
— Absolutely! Seeing someone free themselves gives you permission to do the same.
"In a world with so much division, being able to convey a positive message and bring a little joy to the spectators is a privilege"
— In KURIOS, moreover, there are so many details and things happening at the same time that it's impossible to know where to look: the different acts, the singers, the musicians, what's happening above and below the stage…
— There are too many levels and details. At first, I would watch the show from different seats at each performance to discover it from all angles and fall in love with each of them.
—And among all those details, there is one that is present throughout the show and that perhaps goes unnoticed by some spectators: a clock that constantly strikes 11:11. Why precisely that time?
— 11:11 is considered, in numerology, a number related to creativity, intuition, and imagination. For KURIOS, it symbolizes precisely that: what can happen when we look at the world with the eyes of imagination and leave room for curiosity. It is an invitation to think that things can be different and that anything is possible if we dare to imagine it. That's why the clock remains at 11:11 throughout the show. When it finally moves to 11:12, the performance ends: the two hours we have lived in the tent are just one minute in the time of imagination.
— And when the clock goes from 11:11 to 11:12, the show ends. What would you like to happen at that moment, when the audience returns to reality?
— That they leave the tent feeling that anything is possible. That they have regained a little joy and excitement. There is a lack of joy in the world, and if we manage to make people feel that way during these two hours, that's already a lot. In the end, looking at life with curiosity allows us to imagine other possibilities. In a world with so much division, being able to convey a positive message and bring a little joy to the spectators is a privilege.