Cirque du Soleil | An uplifting ode to life and 19th-century Italian circus

Theater Review |

The clown must have done something right. Why else would a bevy of incandescently beautiful angels hold a twirling vigil above his death bed?

Dangling from the tippy-top of the blue and gold Grand Chapiteau circus tent, these gorgeous winged sisters of mercy are an early clue that patrons of "Corteo," the Cirque du Soleil spectacle now under way at Redmond's Marymoor Park, are in for something extraordinary.

Yes, the previous shows sent our way by the mighty Montreal megacircus were also packed with stunning acrobatic and aerial acts, colorful atmospherics and bewitching music.

But there is nothing else in the Cirque du Soleil canon quite like "Corteo." This show is more culturally specific than the company's customary voyages through free-ranging whimsy. It is a love letter to the traditions of 19th-century Italian circus, and it is a bedazzlement.

The lengthy opening act of the 2 ½-hour "Corteo" woos us into a shimmering world. It's a place where Fellini-esque carnival surrealism abounds, as do images of angelic transcendence right out of the Renaissance paintings of Botticelli.

There is a thin thread of a story line here, about a circus clown who revisits his happy childhood and sawdust-and-tinsel performing life while expiring on a brass bed.

There is nothing morbid about his passage — quite the opposite. Beds in "Corteo" (the Italian term for funeral cortege) are more like magic carpets — they waltz, they fly, they become trampolines for a gaggle of acrobats to romp on.

And in this world bicycles can fly aloft too. Clowns can walk upside-down on a tightwire. Marionettes are human. Helium balloons enchant.

And three giant, chandeliers of beaded crystal sway and whirl, as young women in silky lingerie (the clown's lovers, in his youth) hang decorously from their branches — their long tresses whipping in the breeze.

That opening chandelier number is, no question, one of the most glorious acts in any of the Cirque du Soleil shows this avid circus-lover has seen.

Choreographed to the refrains of a soulful Italian folk-style song, augmented with soaring violin and folksy accordion, it is a swatch of pure seduction.

"Corteo" director Daniele Finzi Pasca and scenic designer Jean Rabasse keep the sensuous wonders coming, smoothly integrating juggling bits, some marvelous gymnastic turns with "cyr wheels" (tall silver hoops); a classy high-bar acrobatic routine; and an exquisitely romantic man-woman balancing act in the antique-European-theater theme.

Even a concerto for crystal glasses, Tibetan bowls and a virtuoso whistler (who is also the show's ringmaster) doesn't feel anachronistic.

And a classic teeterboard number, performed by a trio of hunky Russian male gymnasts, adopts the aura of a friendly competition at an Italian village fair.

The old-fashioned stage curtains, proscenium arches, natural look of the performers (none of that fanciful face-painting that's become a Cirque trademark) and the fine period costuming and lighting contribute much to the flavor of "Corteo." So does the consistently charming, low-tech music, and the occasional nods to the commedia dell'arte high jinks that are the still at the root of all European-style circus clowning.

But "Corteo" is never a strict reconstruction of any single tradition. It is a glorious amalgam of the earthy and the transporting, with a circle-of-life spin.

No act captures that better than the one in which a doll-like Russian acrobat wafts over the audience, suspended by white helium balloons. Urged on by the clown, we add to the magic by giving her tiny feet a gentle push, to keep her afloat.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com