Don’t let the flash go off.  Why are cameras automatically set on flash? Don’t let the flash go off.

Going to an event as press has some perks. Being allowed to ignored the absolutely, positively no cameras/recorders policy is one of them. But before the show began, we were all informed that flash photography could distract performers, causing injury or worse. So, not wanting dead acrobats on my conscience, and knowing how my camera has a mind of its own regarding its settings, you will just have to imagine what Cirque du Soleil‘s Quidam was like.

Imagination is underutilized these days. People demand realistic images in their video games and animated films. They want everything to happen in “real time,” without delay. Even entertainment gets tweeted, live. Something gets lost. Putting down my camera for nearly two full hours meant experiencing something, getting to use my imagination, and being able to step out of reporter mode.

Characters wearing what appeared to be decontamination suits, or maybe lead abatement gear, wandered through the crowd as people began taking their seats.

This seems like something that might frighten sensitive children. As for myself, I was reminded of The Stand by Stephen King. For those unfamiliar with that novel, a government-created plague is released, affecting nearly all of the population. There are quarantines, and those wearing the head-to-toe protective outfits are not always acting in the best interest of the patients. Quidam began, to me, as the creepiest circus ever.

All of the characters were quirky. The clown was odd, even for a clown; his antics are described as “subversive.” The clown’s performances were not the only that had a burlesque tone to them. Most of the show felt like it was for adults, with seductive moves, outfits that suggest nudity, and characters that seem to be ghosts.

As the show begins, we see young Zoé’s parents spirited away in their chairs; what replaces them and their dullness is the circus world. Acrobat Cory Sylvester maneuvers inside the German Wheel; it’s expected that his stunts will end with a face plant, yet, he somehow avoids that. Four artists control the Diabolos, a more stunning type of yo-yo. Mengyi Wang, Shengnan Pan, Yaxuan Xu, and Lu Zhou toss the giant wooden spools high into the air, catching them on strings. It seems impossible that nobody was knocked out by their own spools, let alone that they would be able to catch them on such small targets.

The performance I was most eager to see was that of the aerial contortion in silk. I first learned about this act through the Dresden Dolls; as impressive as that is to view on a video, it is even more so in person, when one is craning her neck, anticipating when Isabelle Vaudelle, the artist, is going to fall. This was just one of the aerial performances. Other artists were suspended above the stage — and sometimes over part of the audience — by hoops and swings. The man sitting behind me repeatedly vocalized what most of us were thinking: “holy shit!”

While the main acts are taking place, smaller ones are happening in the back or circling them. Motion, everywhere. A band — cello, violin, drums, sax, guitars, and vocalists — plays live throughout the show.

When Quidam ended, I noticed two things: not a single person I passed while exiting was complaining or making a sourpuss face, and a friend who is addicted to checking his phone every two minutes only peeked at it once during the entire performance.

Quidam will be happening at the Civic Center through September 4th.