Cirque’s ‘Zumanity’ an odd game of taboo

Friday, Sept. 26, 2003 | 9:34 a.m.

What: "Zumanity."

When: 7:30 and 10:30 p.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays.

Where: New York-New York's Zumanity Theatre.

Tickets: $55, $75 and $95.

Information: (702) 740-6969.

Rating (out of 5 stars): ***.

Cirque du Soleil's R-rated "Zumanity" at New York-New York is destined for a long run on the Strip -- if it can work out the kinks.

The Montreal-based company, creators of "O" at Bellagio and "Mystere" at Treasure Island, has a habit of debuting productions before they are refined and ready for public consumption.

Unlike Broadway productions, which can rise or fall depending on the opening-night reviews, Guy Laliberte seems to prefer releasing his work early and using public reaction to tweak the shows. Damn the critics and full speed ahead. The show is still a work in progress.

When "Zumanity" premiered on Aug. 15, reaction was sometimes harshly negative -- the erotic showcase would have been more aptly titled "Pew-manity." There was little flow, choreography left something to be desired, and performances seemed forced.

True to his tradition, Laliberte has allowed directors Rene Richard Cyr and Dominic Champagne to tinker with the burlesque cabaret. When the world premiere was held Saturday, there had been great improvement.

But there is still a long way to go before "Zumanity" is in the same league as "O" and "Mystere."

Perhaps, because of its somewhat limited appeal -- erotica is not a turn-on for everyone -- the production will never be competitive with the shows down the boulevard at Bellagio and Treasure Island.

On the other hand, maybe it shouldn't be competitive. It's like comparing apples and oranges.

"Zumanity" is being billed as "Another Side of Cirque du Soleil" -- in this case it's the backside.

And it's bare breasts, sexual aids, fake pubic hair, simulated sex, orgies and a contortionist who is brilliant but a misfit on this stage.

Moukhtar Gusengadzhiev is incredible, a showstopper who can throw out almost every joint in his body. What he does is freakish -- bending and twisting his arms and legs to such a degree that he seems like a human Stretch Armstrong.

But "Zumanity" is a show about relationships -- male and male, female and female, male and female.

Or it's about erotic behavior -- a female acrobat does an air ballet on bungee cords in which she simulates various sexual activities (including a disturbing asphyxiation bit), while the groans of someone in the throes of ecstasy resonate through the theater.

Gusengadzhiev is a solo act.

There is nothing erotic about what he does. He wears a pair of boxer shorts while performing, but he is not in keeping with the overall sexual theme of the production.

Otherwise, the theme grabs you the minute you walk into the new $50-million theater.

Female ushers, wearing short clinging dresses, seat the fans.

One of the trademarks of a Cirque du Soleil production is a Theatre of the Absurd atmosphere that prevails during the seating process -- and to some degree throughout the production.

Before the show begins, obese twins Luciene and Licemar Medeiros, wearing French maid costumes, squeeze through the aisles of the seats with trays of strawberries.

Antonio Drija, dressed as a gigolo, flirts with females and has his picture taken with them.

Onstage, a pianist sporting dreadlocks plays a grand piano while a Marlene Dietrich-like actress strolls around him.

The actress has a long cigarette holder in her hand, a top hat on her head and is wearing a clinging black gown with the backside cut out to reveal bare skin.

Another Cirque du Soleil trademark is a busy stage. Something is happening everywhere you look.

While the piano player and the Dietrich character are doing their thing, a male in a corset and tight-fitting pants saunters onstage with a floral boa around his shoulders and a boa constrictor wrapped around his body.

After the initial bizarreness, the show really gets strange, beginning with four Puritans (three males, one female) bounding onstage, preaching about the evils of sex.

The Puritans (the comedy team of Spymonkey) are a recurring act throughout the 90-minute performance. They begin the evening chastising the audience for its sinful thoughts about sex, but by the end of the night have joined the sexual revolution.

Hosting the ribald production is cross-dresser Joey Arias, another controversial decision by the producers and directors.

The cast is youthful and athletic, for the most part. Arias is neither. His banter with the audience in between some of the acts isn't particularly funny.

"Zumanity" is a wonderful circus of sexuality, with acrobats and dancers.

There are a number of highlights in the production, including the giant, water-filled martini glass in which two women make love in between performing a water show that would make Busby Berkeley jealous.

Another is the muscular midget who does a flying routine with a tall blond trapeze artist.

Midway through the show is The Kiss.

Two male dancers, one white, one black, perform a masculine ritual in which they push, shove and knock each other around the stage, but then end with a long, drawn-out, passionate kiss.

"Zumanity" touches upon almost every sexual taboo, or former taboo, from interracial sex, to homosexuality, to S&M and even bestiality -- one of the Puritans has sex with a cow (a giant, stuffed doll).

The final taboo covered in the show, an orgy in which a male and a female member of the audience are invited to join, is much too long and destroys the smooth flow of the preceding acts.

You might say it's an anti-climax, but at least it isn't premature.