I have mixed feelings about Teatro ZinZanni — an intimate dinner-theater cirque presenting a new variation of its show to its beautiful venue on the 14th floor of the Cambria Hotel — but I do wonder if it’s because the show is so obviously directed at an audience that isn’t me.
In fact, it’s not really directed at the audience that goes to the traditional theater much; it sits elsewhere on the entertainment spectrum.
A mix of cirque, cabaret and a touch of old-school vaudeville with its introduction of a brassy comic-magician named Lucy Darling, it is most easily compared to Cirque du Soleil, but even with several veterans from that Canadian/Las Vegas conglomerate, the comparison is off.
This is mini-cirque, individual performers and one trapeze pair (the trapeze doesn’t swing), and the same folks do the clowning bits, which are rather obviously their secondary talents. And it comes with a three-course dinner. Also, don’t bring the kids (that’s what “Blue Man Group” is for).
This is date-night stuff, even better, perhaps double-date-night stuff. You’ll even be asked by your server for the evening whether you’re there for a special occasion, although it’s not clear whether anything changes based on the answer. Perhaps they’ll put a candle in your cheesecake.
Speaking of the food, you should know it’s defined by the requirement to serve courses to the entire audience at once. Imagine you’re at a wedding, and the bride and groom are a quirky pair who’ve decided to spend the bulk of their dollars on the entertainment instead, so indulge them.
While you eat, make sure to appreciate the killer, versatile band. Dressed in white jackets, they fit in perfectly to their classic art deco surroundings, the circular, night-clubby space itself being a genuine treat. They specialize in earlier-era light jazz sounds, moving from classic selections to the theme song from “The Flintstones,” sans vocals. I can imagine couples or groups who’ve partaken of a few too many premium cocktails (not included in the price) deciding to sing along.
Artistically, this show — called “love, chaos, & dinner” with no capital letters (or all caps) for some reason I can’t explain except that it’s on trend — has several great parts but a lack of overall conception to make them more than their sum. The “love” thread is weak, the “chaos” is light (perhaps thankfully), and we’ve already discussed the dinner.
But there’s no questioning the quality of the individual acts.
Singer, co-emcee and Chicago native Sa’Rayah (a top-12 contestant on “The Voice”), the cat-like contortionist Ulzii Mergen, the hoop aerialist Lea Hinz, and trapezists Duo 19 (Oliver Parkinson and Cassie Cutler) all unquestionably impress.
But I was most drawn to the performers who were a bit more offbeat.
Danila Bim performs her aerial dance while hanging from her hair — for her entire routine — which I don’t believe I’ve ever seen before. It sure looks like it would hurt. A lot. Those are some superhuman follicles.
Michael Evolution (real last name van Beek) is a … I guess you’d have to call him a basketball artist. He dribbles and juggles and does some other things I don’t know how to describe but it’s high-energy and surprising.
The star of the night (don’t tell Sa’Rayah’s Madame ZinZanni, who owns this “tent”!) is magician comedienne Carisa Hendrix, aka Lucy Darling. With a bulbous red wig and a lot of verbal “darlings,” she’s what you’d technically call a hoot. Even more than a magician, she’s a campy-classy personality, able to handle the unpredictables that give the audience participation bits their spontaneity and ameliorate their cringe. Lucy Darling has a purposefully retro, Dean Martin-like comic persona (her magic involves cocktails), and she can seriously command a room. She’s so old-school that she feels fresh, and to her great credit, she left me wanting more.
There’s a bit of a throughline that the circus acts are summoned by Lucy Darling’s magic, even, in one case, transformed to fly by some magic tea. But this is where the show feels like it’s missing a director (a creator, Joe De Paul, is credited). None of that comes across clearly, and perhaps it’s the connective quality that this show needs to feel artistically whole.
