Equestrian nights

>> Cheval Théâtre is an overpriced, chintzy horse circus

by AMY BARRATT

There was a period during my misspent youth when I regularly played the ponies at Blue Bonnets, alias the Hippodrome de Montréal. But until attending Cheval Théâtre recently, I hadn't been to the area in years. It has changed a lot, with big commercial developments springing up in what used to be open fields, but when exiting the Namur metro one still has a clear view of the Orange Julep. From the corner of Décarie and Jean-Talon, you can also, for another 10 days, see Cheval Théâtre's wonky Medieval-inspired tents in the distance.

Cheval Théâtre is the latest creation of Gilles Ste-Croix, one of the masterminds behind the Cirque du Soleil. He is no longer associated with the Cirque, and CT represents a serious breech with that company, which shuns animal acts. Traditional circuses like the Shriner's have come under fire in recent years for exploiting and abusing animals. No one is suggesting that Ste-Croix's horses are mistreated, nevertheless there's something sad about seeing such noble beasts prancing and cantering around a cramped ring. The space is much too small to allow them to do what horses do best: jump over stuff.

Compared to the Cirque--and such comparisons are inevitable and legitimate--everything about CT is small and earthbound. Ironically, where the Cirque has a developed sense of theatricality, Cheval Théâtre is not theatre at all, and an only adequate circus that doesn't justify the $45 price tag. Even the "cheval" part of the name is misleading since the real stars of the show are the acrobats. It goes without saying that the horses are beautiful, but let's face it: dressage is a subtle art and is not that interesting for the layman to watch for two hours.

Normally clowns are my least favourite part of the circus, so I was initially glad they don't have a large part in Cheval Théâtre. There is in fact only one clown, who is also the closest thing this show has to a ringmaster. I can't tell you his name because the program, insultingly, omits the names of the performers.

A scene near the end of the show, where the clown essentially plays straight man to a horse, turned out to be the highlight of my night. Despite the animal having to assume some undignified postures, this is the one routine that best illustrates the complicity between man and beast. You sense that the horse, Bohemio, is doing his tricks as a favour to the handler and that the handler understand that, whereas in the rest of the show you can't help feeling that the horses perform due to the proximity of a whip.

Cheval Théâtre has pretensions to high art, but pretensions are all they are. Guy Simard's lighting is colourful but fails to create any atmosphere and François Barbeau's costumes are chintzy. Images like that of two scantily clad female acrobats riding by, auburn hair and manes flying, were evocative of nothing so much as a Harlequin romance cover. The sound of rolling surf would have been more interesting than Bernard Poirier's original music.

Walking toward the big top from the metro felt kind of romantic but, unfortunately, the layout is completely geared to drivers, to the point where my fellow pedestrians and I had to dodge vehicles and even vault over fences, in despair of ever finding the entrance. All of which was more athletic than anything the horses would get to do in the course of the evening.

Cheval Théâtre is selling out and, indeed, the run has been extended an extra week, proving P.T. Barnum's contention that there's a sucker born every minute.

Cheval Théâtre through June 10, 8pm, under the big top near the Hippodrome de Montréal; $35-45 adults, $25-35 children; 790-1245/1-800-361-4595