Cirque du Soleil is exuberant old-fashioned circus pleasure, plus other new shows this week

Moore Park Entertainment Quarter, October 18, until January 3.

Roll up – the world’s biggest circus, Cirque du Soleil, is back in town with KOOZA. A throwback to a more interactive, traditional style of circus, KOOZA was created in 2007 by director David Shiner as a departure from the huge theatrical spectacles that had, by then, almost defined Cirque du Soleil’s immensely popular style. Under Shiner’s vision, Stéphane Roy’s set evokes an old-fashioned carnival, and Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt’s costumes are a rainbow of acrobat stripes in nostalgic circus colours.

Shiner – a trained clown himself – sent in the clowns. The moment you enter the spiral-patterned big top theatre, it’s hard to spill popcorn without hitting one. Pacing through the audience, the clowns initially favour banter over slapstick, giving the impression that the cast of a North American comedy club has run away with the circus. Once the show begins though, the clowns pull out all the stops with mime, slapstick, and physical theatre.

While clowns in other Cirque du Soleil shows might have a touch more European arthouse whimsy, these clowns bear the stamp of Shiner’s modern American comedy and vaudeville interests. Their ringleader, Mark Gindick’s slouching, wise-cracking mad King, chants “CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!” as soon as he spies the cans of drink in my and my guest’s hands. He’s accompanied by a bumbling henchman duo (Miguel Berlanga Madroño and Duncan Cameron) straight from a children’s action comedy film. There’s even a fluffy clown-dog who urinates real water.

For those requiring a dose of schmaltz, the clowning frames the central narrative: a story about a child-like elfin character known as the Innocent, who arrives complete with kite and upturned red nose just in case you missed the fact he’s meant to represent your inner child.

Performed with great sympathy by Alexandr Yudintsev, the Innocent encounters Mitch Wynter’s dapper Trickster, who prompts him to explore the wider world.

Enter the abundant buffet of circus acts the wide-eyed Innocent encounters along the way. There are contortionists, aerial silks, a devastatingly romantic unicycle duet (Anastasiia Shkandybina and Dmytro Dudnyk), an outstandingly charismatic diabolo act (Wei-Liang Lin), a wheel of death scene channelling WWE, and nail-biting highwires and a teeterboard.

All are of Cirque du Soleil’s usual high standard: tightly choreographed, impeccably performed, and eliciting a constant audience rollercoaster of gasps and cheers.

It’s all accompanied by a live band belting out Jean-François Côté’s original music from the top floor of the carnival set. The music and its visual presentation are broad for Cirque du Soleil: following Shiner’s eclectic palette, it spans from the usual ethereal ambient to musical theatre, Bollywood, burlesque, vaudeville, and cabaret. The Day of the Dead-inspired “Skeleton Dance”, featuring Jessica Fox as the Soul Singer, even has a chorus of skeleton showgirls, ostrich feathers bouncing with every strut.

Other commentators have found the clowning excessive, so whether you enjoy KOOZA may come down to personal tastes in comedy style. But with world-class acrobatics and Cirque du Soleil’s extraordinary production values, KOOZA makes an exuberant case for the pleasure of old-fashioned circus.

Chantal Nguyen reviewed a preview performance of KOOZA.

Afterpay Arena, October 19

With almost every track on the Deadbeat tour, the crowd shrieks recognition as the first notes play (Elephant! Let it Happen!), then melts back into a soporific, synaesthetic, rainbow-swirled haze. Not once, not twice, but three times the confetti cannons explode, fluttering their holdings far and wide like a semi-triggering swarm of magic bogong moths. After Dracula, the most popular track from Tame Impala’s latest, most mid and minimalist album, a camera follows our man Kevin Parker leaving the stadium, down a corridor, into a bathroom stall … and then the big screens show dacks drop to ankles as Parker takes a piss. Loser (like the Deadbeat single: “you couldn’t write this”) or legend?

The experience feels less like a psychedelic journey than a series of hypnagogic jerks through a sporadically transcendent and occasionally mystifying acid-dripped dream. It’s not unpleasant, but it makes you wish you were lying in a sunny meadow somewhere instead of the futuristic termite mound of the fourth-time rebranded Afterpay Arena (bring back ‘Sydney SuperDome’). It’s Monday night. A puff of something fragrant wafts through the stands.

Parker is Tame Impala, the west coast Aussie super-creator known for sculpting exquisite slow-breakers of fuzzy, phasered bliss since 2010’s Innerspeaker. Looking like a cuter cousin of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, with tumbled hair and a blue-striped collared tee, he brings maximal chill to his electric guitar and that late ’70s-signatured, sliding, falsetto-favoured voice. Behind him in shadows are his touring band members, building the synth-stacked walls of sound Parker usually creates on his own. With all the distortions, what’s pure on the records can sometimes transform into sonic purée, especially during the three-track encore.

Moore Park Entertainment Quarter, October 18, until January 3.

Roll up – the world’s biggest circus, Cirque du Soleil, is back in town with KOOZA. A throwback to a more interactive, traditional style of circus, KOOZA was created in 2007 by director David Shiner as a departure from the huge theatrical spectacles that had, by then, almost defined Cirque du Soleil’s immensely popular style. Under Shiner’s vision, Stéphane Roy’s set evokes an old-fashioned carnival, and Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt’s costumes are a rainbow of acrobat stripes in nostalgic circus colours.

Shiner – a trained clown himself – sent in the clowns. The moment you enter the spiral-patterned big top theatre, it’s hard to spill popcorn without hitting one. Pacing through the audience, the clowns initially favour banter over slapstick, giving the impression that the cast of a North American comedy club has run away with the circus. Once the show begins though, the clowns pull out all the stops with mime, slapstick, and physical theatre.