Iris (Cirque du Soleil-- Kodak Center, Los Angeles)

Iris (pronounced the French way, "ee-rees") isn't a movie; it's a Cirque du Soleil show that's playing right now at the Kodak Theater (where they film the Academy Awards) in L.A., the theme of which is the history of cinema and movie making.

Needless to say, when I several months ago first saw the advertisements for this show, I was overwhelmed with enthusiasm and excitement. This buoyant feeling almost immediately (and predictably) devolved into anxiety that Cirque would somehow manage to screw it up and thereby incur my wrath for sullying the subject that has been my passion for quite some time now. Despite my apprehension, however, I ended up deciding to go to the show anyway, because I've been fortunate enough to have seen several Cirque shows over the last ten years and I thoroughly enjoyed them all.

Fast forward to September 11th, 2011 (yes, I'm a little behind on my blogging) and you'll find me nearly moved to tears within seconds of being seated before the show starts, because I can see from the get-go that the crazy French Canadian Guy Laliberte (CEO of Cirque du Soleil) has done yet another mind bogglingly competent job putting together a crazy-weird-circus-fantasy spectacle.

My favorite pre-show attraction was the female mime wandering the crowd with a metal contraption surrounding her body. She solicited several people to spin her curious cylinder-skirt, and when no one would do it fast enough to suit her needs she gave it a yank herself. To the delight of the crowd, her skirt (which resembled a film reel turned on its side) revealed itself to be a working zoetrope showing boxers fighting each other in a short, repeated loop. Rewind to February of 2005 and you'll find a fresher-faced me sitting in my history of early cinema class at UC Berkeley watching a very enthusiastic young professor (Professor Kaveh Askari, a graduate of the University of Chicago (?) if you were wondering) demonstrating much smaller versions of the same pre-cinematic device and others like it. This was probably the moment that I decided I loved film and wanted to learn everything about it, and so for the Cirque show to reference it meant a lot to me. (<-- huge understatement) The rest of the show was no different in terms of its emotional impact. Nearly every single aspect connected to some aspect of film as an art form, film history, or film production. Some of the references made were: - Norman McLaren's "Pas de deux"

- Georges Melies' "A Trip to the Moon"

- Edison's "Electrocution of an Elephant" (part of the Cinema of Attractions)

"The Kiss"

- Lotte Reiniger's "Adventures of Prince Achmed"

- Dziga Vertov's "The Man with the Movie Camera" or "The Cinematic Orchestra"

- The Al Jolson film "The Jazz Singer"

- And even what I took as a reference to a particular character from a Hayao Miyazaki film (Howl's Moving Castle)

All these references (and many, many more) were integrated with the usual Cirque spectacle of acrobatics, contortionists, a loose, somewhat dubious romantic narrative that ties the show together, wonderful live music, and some silly clowns which Cirque here opted to use to refer to modern day Hollywood industry stereotypes.

My favorite part was the McLaren reference, because it took a series of dancers and placed them in front of an enormous screen that showed their motion trails, just like in "Pas de deux". I also greatly relished the carnival/vaudeville aspect to this particular Cirque show (though I recognize it's a somewhat common theme throughout them and circus in general), because it connected back to the roots of film as a sort of freak show attraction. I also was just as much impressed by the integration of technology into the acts (I'm thinking in particular of one scene that's incredibly difficult to describe, so I'll leave it up to you to go experience it for yourself) as I was by the skill of the performers, some of whom are Olympic athletes.

I can't say whether many people in the audience understood these myriad references to cinema, but whether or not they did is not important to me. I loved the show because it reminded me of a time in my life not so long ago when I was ruled by a singular passion and drive inspired by the art form of film. Though this time isn't very far distant from me, it feels miles away. Because I am acutely aware of the literal (and metaphorical) distance I've traveled since those glorious days of oblivious (arguably naive) infatuation with my chosen subject of study, Iris moved me quite deeply insofar as it helped me reconnect with past moments in the sun, and I know this intensely personal experience would certainly not be what most people experience on seeing the show.

I highly recommend that you see Iris if you love film and you're in Los Angeles. You won't regret it.