Theater : ‘Moon’ Aims High, but It’s Not Quite a Cirque Thing

The Cirque du Soleil hasn’t passed through Los Angeles in quite awhile. Over the weekend Stefan Haves attempted to create the next best thing--a Cirque de la Lune, so to speak--at John Anson Ford Amphitheatre.

The result, “Moon Over Madness,” opened the L.A. County-sponsored Summer Nights at the Ford series Saturday and Sunday after a Friday preview.

Like the real moon’s relationship to the sun, this “Moon” reflected only a fraction of the glory of the Cirque du Soleil. With the night sky stretching above the audience, with many spectators farther from the action than they would have been under the Cirque’s big top, the Cirque’s sense of intense focus was missing--not to mention its budget.

Nonetheless, this “Moon” did stir up a few moments of mystery and whimsy that were fitting for the lunar theme.

The real moon looked rather wispy Saturday evening, and it didn’t linger for long over the Ford. But the show’s designers provided a fake moon--a big, illuminated globe--that came out during the opening scene and remained perched over the stage during the show.

In that opening scene, set in 1694 France, groups of washerwomen and male stick-cutters were suddenly distracted from their duties and transformed into Dionysian revelers by the sight of the moon.

Then we suddenly jumped ahead 300 years to the wilds of Cahuenga Pass (where the Ford is located) and a tongue-in-cheek “nature talk” from Ranger Greg (Greg Burns), complete with slides.

Next up was a big group number, choreographed by Carol Guidry, that first presented a chaotic view of the cacophony of the many electronic messages we hear nowadays, then concluded with lines of dancers stomping in rhythm. Natch, it was followed by a rooster (Daniel Stein) scooting across the stage in a sports car.

In other words, there wasn’t much rhyme or reason to the order of events, and the show’s rhythm rose or fell largely on the merits of individual acts.

While Haves apparently tried to impose some sort of a larger vision--the halves of the program were titled “Incubation” and “Celebration”--it never became very clear.

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This would be no problem if the individual acts were uniformly strong. But there were quite a few high points, low points and in-between points. There were, in fact, too many points--the show lasted nearly three hours.

The splashiest, most sure-fire act came near the end with Matt Plendl’s virtuosic Hula-Hooping.

The funniest act, with the possible exception of the aforementioned Ranger Greg, was Denis Lacombe’s mad orchestra conductor, previously seen here with, yes, the Cirque du Soleil.

Clog dancers Thom Cagle and Jim Newman were fun, but their placement soon after a bigger dance number wasn’t the best. Haves’ signature “Backman” act was meant for a smaller hall. June Melby created a pleasant bit of musical/lyric nonsense. Jeffrey Daymont’s juggling of blocks elicited a few oohs and ahs.

In the first act finale, a bunch of guys--posing as chickens--tried to cross the road. It was a cute bit, but hardly uproarious. Former Story Theatre master Paul Sand returned to the stage with a sketch about a prince and a fly (Joe Seely in a great fly costume).

“No Outlet” was essentially a two-woman comedy routine that had been trimmed down from a 24-actor number, according to the program. Why did they bother to keep it at all?

The only nod toward aerial stunts was a “bungee ballet,” in which a group of airborne jumpers bounced up and down while Duke McVinnie’s band played. Actually, it was McVinnie’s growly voice and bluesy band that tied the proceedings together better than any other element.

Felipe Sanchez got the credit for the wide variety of fanciful costumes, and Steven Ritz-Barr contributed some interesting puppetry, most notably in “Extra Soles,” when one of the “puppets” suddenly came to life.