Origin

A group of performing arts students from Louisiana are playing out the genesis of life on earth, and the result isn’t pretty. Three dancers strut in Barbarella tin foil, the others writhe on the stage floor in jungle-patterned lycra and the near empty hall reverberates with dismal world music. It’s Cirque du Soleil: the Tribute Group, and no amount of good intentions can salvage it. 

The centre-piece is a huge ball of scaffolding, reminiscent of a cell or a microscopic animal. The opening is quite arresting, as shadows from within it burst outwards and spread across the stage. The theme is life in all its forms, evolving, transforming, conceiving and birthing. The line between science and mysticism is carefully trodden, the images intend to evoke and suggest. 

Unfortunately the execution just isn’t up to snuff. There is some genuinely impressive aerial silk work, but even this is overshadowed by lacklustre movement centre-stage. There is no sense of tension or danger, no drama to drive the stage pictures along.

The music is a genuine problem, deafeningly loud and poorly mixed, failing to impose the structure this piece so desperately needs. Weighty issues require a degree of intellectual vigour, whatever the medium that tackles them, and time and time again this company fail to hit the mark. 

This is a group of young and capable performers, but Origin leaves them undervalued and exposed. What could be a fascinating celebration of life and vitality quickly devolves into low-grade circus and underdeveloped physical theatre.