By Joe De Rosa
As a theater critic, I’m supposed to describe what I saw when I saw Cirque du Soleil’s OVO at the NOW Arena in Hoffman Estates on Thursday night.
It shouldn’t be that hard, right? I describe things all the time.
So, actually… it’s impossible. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.
At one point, a pair of men dressed as crickets lept from the top of a giant climbing wall about three stories up in the air, plunging downward, calm as can be, smiling as they fell. Then they bounced on a trampoline back through the air in reverse, somehow arriving right back where they started—more content than I am when I take the first step up a staircase.
Nope, Not even close. Okay, let’s try this.
A woman dressed like a moth but also, somehow, like a beautiful larva danced while dangling from a thin strand of fabric, with another larva holding her, suspended from the same silk rope as she touched the back of her head with her foot.
Couldn’t do it that time either. All right, this time I got it.
An impossibly flexible contortionist supported herself in the air on what appeared to be a stick propped under her chin while executing a backbend-chin-stand in which she pointed her feet over her head directly in front of her—which allowed her to look up at her own butt.
Again, no. It’s okay if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I don’t believe me, but here’s a pic to prove it.
As the woman was hovering in the air on her chin stick, I turned to my daughter sitting next to me and reminded her that the performer and I were of the same species.
“No, you’re not, Dad,” she replied.
And she was right, of course. My species groans when we get out of bed in the morning. We trip on the driveway when it’s icy, and then we whine for two weeks about how we somehow managed to bruise both elbows at the same time and should probably go to Immediate Care. The otherworldly Cirque du Soleil OVO species–in their beautifully vibrant, elaborate insect and plant-life costumes–juggle glowing lime-green neon fireflies in the dark and slide headfirst down freestanding fireman poles, catching themselves inches from the ground by applying superhuman inner thigh strength to the pole at the very—and I mean very—last possible moment, avoiding what for my species would be certain death.
Here’s the thing: all of these exceptional, impossible, death-defying, acrobatic feats of strength and graceful athleticism happen too fast to scream in terror or delight. One moment, the aerial dancer is upside down 20 feet above the ground, holding herself up by what appears to be a thin strand of silk wrapped around her foot. The next, she’s hurtling to the ground, and just at the moment when an audience member (like me) is about to cry out, she catches herself and swings back into the air like a butterfly taken by the wind. And all that escapes from my mouth is the start of the word Whoa! Which comes out as Wuh.
So, yeah, the words on the page don’t do it justice. You just have to see it for yourself. And you should definitely see OVO for yourself. You’ve never seen anything like it. Trust me. And you won’t see anything like OVO again—unless you see OVO again.
Now for the review part of the review.
Cirque du Soleil’s OVO tells the story of a colorful ecosystem filled with delightfully eccentric insects and plant life that dance, tell jokes in a language somewhere between French and the noises insects make, and perform the most stunning acrobatics you are likely to see in your life.
Directed by Deborah Colker, OVO is a visual feast from start to finish. The title means “egg” in Portuguese, and the show begins when a quirky, socially awkward blue bug arrives, carrying an egg on his back. Symbolizing life, transformation, and new beginnings, the egg adds a thematic layer—but don’t overanalyze it. Just sit back and enjoy the breathtaking spectacle of performers pushing the limits of what seems humanly possible.
Playing along with the movable feast, Berna Ceppa’s bouncing Brazilian bossa nova, samba, funk-inspired band gives two hours of wondrous music. In keeping with the insect theme, the score is 100% earworm. Ceppa sampled actual insect sounds to play along with the seven-piece band featuring violin, guitar, bass, wind instruments, and a whole lotta percussion. Twenty-four hours later, I was driving through a good old-fashioned Chicagoland blizzard, still humming the bouncing melody while tapping the rhythm on the dashboard.
Liz Vandal’s intricate, whimsical, iridescent insect costumes use color and form to perfectly highlight the movement of the performers, while Eric Champoux’s lighting design paints the stage and performers, highlighting every impossible movement and enhancing Vandal’s stunning costumes.
Gringo Cardia’s set design evokes the beauty of the natural world. The stage has been redesigned for the current run to capture the vibrance and awe of nature, featuring a massive inflatable egg, an acrobatic structure 14 meters above the ground, a curved climbing wall, and a series of plant-life-inspired set pieces that become acrobatic elements for the humanoid insects. Long story short: the set is nothing short of incredible. And the same is true for every element of the show.
So, once again, everyone, I mean everyone, should see Cirque du Soleil’s OVO. There’s nothing like it. And OVO is about as family-friendly a show as you’ll find, so bring your kids.
One last description to take us out.
As the green bug acrobats bounced from one trampoline to the other, flying over the tumblers tumbling below, one cricket launched into a series of ten, maybe twenty flips–flip after flip after flip. I glanced to my left and saw my daughter wide-eyed while my sister held her face in her hands. To my right, a woman got so caught up in the moment that she choked on her popcorn—cough after cough after cough.
Almost pulled it off that time.
Cirque du Soleil’s OVO runs through February 17 at The NOW Area, 5333 Prairie Stone Pkwy, Hoffman Estates. And it’s touring the country. You can get tickets here. For more Chicago reviews or show information, see chicagoonstage.com or theatreinchicago.com.