Gold body paint, bikinis, meet Shostakovich at Cirque de la Symphonie

If you’ve ever had the urge to watch a woman twirl a large hoop around her tightly wrapped bun in time to Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Dance of the Buffoons,” Thursday night at the Mann Center was your chance.

Not that it will be your last. Cirque de la Symphonie, a jolly entertainment that pits the Russian National Orchestra against acrobats, a contortionist and one charmingly befuddled harlequin, is making the rounds. The concept isn’t likely to leave us anytime soon. The Philadelphia Orchestra has two dates next week with Cirque de la Symphonie at its summer site in Saratoga Springs, and the orchestra’s new strategic plan calls for development of a “cirque” type show of its own.


A Philadelphia take isn’t likely to bring out Thursday’s crowd of perfumed Russians and Ukrainians. You could locate the audience’s Eastern Bloc when the ensemble, led by Mikhail Tatarnikov, played the “Gopak” from Khachaturian’s Gayaneh. These listeners knew just what to do, breaking into spontaneous clapping — on the afterbeats.

Purists will worry. All the classical world is looking for a non-musical assist; as the one-ring circus was taking the Mann, the Philadelphia Orchestra was on stage in Saratoga Springs playing a movie soundtrack — Casablanca. There’s a collective sense that, in this age of searching for synergy between classical and the Spectacle Other, we’re on a slippery slope. The more alluring the visuals, the harder it is to engage deeply with the music.

But Cirque de la Symphonie is all right. And it’s more than all right as long as no one thinks the experience carries the virtue of introducing classical music to the masses. My guess is these kinds of shows are final destination points for most listeners, as was the Philadelphia Orchestra’s outing with Beatles tunes at the Mann a month ago. Cirque de la Symphonie is sensitive to balance. Mostly, there’s one acrobat on stage, perhaps with some hoops, a swatch of fabric and a hook to take one aloft. The best moments explored a relationship between music and physical movement, a familiar marriage classical defenders should remember also occurs in something called ballet.

This is the summer the Philadelphia Orchestra has decided that it has better things to do than nine concerts at the Mann, and the Russian National Orchestra — augmented by 12 local musicians — hardly came across as a weak substitute. Under Tatarnikov, there was something matter- of-fact in interpretations of Borodin’s Polovetsian Dances and the “Waltz” from Khachaturian’s Masquerade — an edge in the brass, a general abandon that was at once exhilarating and an argument that perhaps Western orchestras have prettified this repertoire too far beyond its ethnic sources.

Sometimes the orchestra played alone, without acrobats. But what kind of physicality could match the last movement of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5? Two beefy men clad in nothing but bikinis and gold body paint, of course. Moving like molasses, Dariusz Wronski and Jaroslaw Marciniak writhed and interlocked limbs and torsos, using each other to achieve gravity-defying feats. It was more Leni Riefenstahl than Diane Arbus, but only just. When one perched upon the other, with nothing keeping him from disaster but hand upon bald head, you worried about previously unconsidered consequences of the Philadelphia humidity.

Triumphal they were, even if this was a strange idea for a finale. It seems doubtful that the episode could have been an entry point into the classical repertoire for anyone, though, just in case, I can strongly recommend the other movements of Shostakovich’s symphony. As for the gold body paint, you’re on your own.