This Argentinean group of performers hits its audience at a primal, sensory level that builds, through an orgiastic level of sound and sight, into near-experiential overload.
De La Guarda is not a charming, fantastique Cirque du Soleil. No slick Danskins or inventive costumes covering lithe bodies. Here the dress code is suits and ties for the men and skirts and blazers for the women. This everyman attire, supplied by Diesel, disarms and woos jaded New Yorkers into a distinct and unique world never before inhabited.
The evening begins as the audience is herded into a 50x50 foot black performing box and caressed with primitive sounds and rhythms.
Unexpectedly, the lights go out and the low white ceiling becomes translucent as shadows of human forms seem to fly randomly across the white canvas. The ceiling ripples and unleashes silhouettes of unwanted creepy bugs and larva.
Suddenly, an upside down male in a suit plunges through a corner of the ceiling as through he were an urban monster flung from another galaxy. The audience screams. Abruptly, another figure plunges through the ceiling from an opposing corner. The first male crashes through again and seizes an unsuspecting female audience member and rips her off the ground and springs back into the heavens. Chaos reigns. The audience is both alarmed and eager to be chosen.
Just as a sonic crescendo is reached there is a loud rip. The ceiling is torn apart, revealing that it is made of paper. A confetti storm of beads and tissue squares cascade from thirty feet above as a fine mist of water cleanses the entire space. Floating pieces of the paper ceiling serve as make-shift umbrellas only to be blown away quickly by a driving wind.
Had enough? The show has just begun! A bare chested male is spotlighted on a catwalk beating a haunting drum rhythm. This is the signal for women from the troupe to pulse their way through the crowd and pick random partners with whom to engage in a bacchanalian dance.
Your reviewer got tapped and abandoned himself to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment -- much to the delight of those not too delirious to notice.
The 75 minute performance continues with an infinite variety of seemingly spontaneous arial feats.
Abruptly, a nude male falls from above, clad only in a leather support harness. He plunges to earth and plucks woman after woman into his arms and lifts each into a dizzying up and down bungey ride through space. Panties and bare male buns blur into a twirling overhead spectacle.
Call The Daryl Roth Theatre for tickets. 20 Union Square East. (212) 239-6200.
