Neither petit, nor circus

Although (apparently) the show did not shake the theatrical world, it did shake me. It could have shaken me a little more if the music (which is the center, and not the circus) had been something more than Beautiful: if it had been a little more epic, with some chapter of faster rhythm, of more thrilling musical and scenographic action and less of fragile glass. But the result seemed emotional, perfectionist, sensitive and aesthetic to me. On stage, a delicate and lucid tribute to nature and the passage of time unfolded.

With a wordless language (circus, dance and live song), the staging unfolds on a central rotating track, surrounded by visual poetry. Singer-songwriter Pomme, with a sailor's hat and a retro air that evokes Jane Birkin (and that characteristically sensual, whispering voice of French singers), sang and narrated the life cycle through her album Saisons. Accompanied by a string quartet dressed as fairies, she wove seasons that became delicate scenes: from birth (represented by a luminous egg and confetti) to aquatic and planetary landscapes of round lights.

The contemporary circus of Yoann and Marie has a poetic footprint that we already know from Minuit (2018) or Celui qui tombe (2023), but here the transgressive energy gave way to a slow and contemplative rhythm. I disagree with the critics who limit the show to a "beautiful and simple staging." I understand the saturation, but, to be fair, the details are meticulously cared for, and I wish all the works of the Grec were so thoroughly studied. Some images (the superposition of projections, the floating body of the acrobats and the luminous spheres that evoked planets) reached moments of great beauty. I've already said it: I only missed epic, among so much lyricism.

If the intention was to offer a pleasant and family evening, the proposal hit the nail on the head. The little ones (and also those adults who have given up on Captain Hook and still remember childhood innocence) connected with it, seduced by the soft rhythm and clear poetics. The summer spirit was present in every verse of Pomme ("Everything restarts, everything will survive"), a central idea of the staging and of the inauguration itself.

Leticia Martín, in her first engagement beyond the Liceu, celebrated a relaxed atmosphere, with cava and coca in the upper gardens, a night that opened the doors to seven weeks of scenic discovery. And it is true: it was exactly that, a friendly party, a prelude that was not a great heart-throb, but a caress to the vital signs. In my opinion, the show confirmed that the Grec can find its ideal place between experience and artistic sublimation. Without being a revolution, it also has no complexes: it starts from common sense and balance, and does not want more than it can offer. It is fresh and summery, as the inaugural moment demanded. A culmination of the scenic performance? No. An outdoor dinner? Yes. And sometimes, the opportunity to savor beauty without haste is better than unexpected thunder.

The great moments: the appearance of the body of light, the slow rhythm of the revolving stage, the ending with planetary lights. What it lacks: a dramatic vertigo and a more intense scenic tension. But perhaps that was not the intention: perhaps it was about celebrating the beginning, not trembling.