The Magic That Makes Cirque du Soleil Different: A Reflection on Wonder
Photo by Liesbeth Hoornaert
There's something profound that happens in the darkness of a theater when the lights dim and the first notes of a Cirque du Soleil show begin. I experienced this firsthand on opening night, not as a performer or crew member, but simply as someone in the audience—and what I witnessed around me was nothing short of magical.
The Sound of Wonder
Sitting in the Big Top, surrounded not by colleagues or journalists, but by fellow audience members, I found myself doing something unexpected: I stopped watching the stage and started watching the people around me. What I saw and heard was extraordinary.
"Wow. Did you see that?"
"Oh my god. Is he really going to do that?"
"This is amazing."
"Oh, listen to that music."
"Watch that. Oh, look, he's up there."
These weren't scripted reactions or polite appreciation—these were genuine gasps of amazement, spontaneous expressions of joy, and moments of pure wonder. Two rows in front of me, a woman sat literally on the edge of her seat for what felt like the entire second act, completely transfixed by the acrobats soaring above. When the clowns appeared, the laughter of children filled the theater with a kind of infectious delight that reminded everyone present what it feels like to experience something truly joyful.
This Is Why We Do What We Do
In that moment, watching the faces around me light up, listening to the collective intake of breath during a particularly daring aerial sequence, something clicked. This is exactly why Cirque du Soleil exists. This is why they pour countless hours into perfecting every movement, every note, every lighting cue. It's not just about creating a show—it's about creating a space where wonder can exist.
An Escape Into Joy
As Ibrahim Maalouf said during his recent concert in Gent: "We all know the world is fucked up right now. We know it's very hard to be happy, but at least let's try to be joyful." His words resonated deeply because they capture something essential about what live performance offers in our current moment.
Cirque du Soleil gives people something increasingly rare: a few hours away from the daily stress, the constant stream of difficult news, the weight of everyday concerns. For those precious hours in the Big Top, audiences are transported into a realm where gravity seems optional, where human bodies can fly, where music and movement create something that transcends ordinary experience.
What Makes It Different
What sets Cirque du Soleil apart isn't just the technical skill of the performers or the beauty of the staging—though both are extraordinary. It's the commitment to creating genuine moments of amazement. In a world where we're constantly bombarded with content designed to grab our attention for mere seconds, Cirque du Soleil offers something deeper: sustained wonder.
The lady on the edge of her seat wasn't checking her phone. The people laughing at the clowns weren't thinking about tomorrow's responsibilities. For those moments, everyone in that theater was fully present, fully engaged, fully alive to the magic happening in front of them.
The Gift of Shared Wonder
Perhaps most importantly, a Cirque du Soleil show creates a shared experience of joy. In our increasingly fragmented world, there's something powerful about sitting in a room with hundreds of strangers and having the same sense of amazement wash over all of you simultaneously. Those collective gasps, that shared laughter, the spontaneous applause—these are reminders that we're all human, that we all have the capacity for wonder, and that sometimes the best thing we can do is simply allow ourselves to be amazed together.
This is why people keep coming back to Cirque du Soleil. Not just for the spectacle, but for the feeling. The reminder that wonder still exists. The permission to be joyful, even when the world feels heavy. The chance to sit in the dark with strangers and remember what it feels like to believe in magic.
The Magic Continues Beyond the Show
Later that evening, I received a photo that perfectly captured how this experience extends beyond the theater walls. Liesbeth, who had attended the show was biking home afterward and stopped to photograph the Big Top lit up against the night sky. Along with the image, she wrote simply: "It even is beautiful when you bike home."
That moment—an audience member so moved by the evening that they felt compelled to stop and capture the beauty they were leaving behind—says everything about the lasting impact of wonder. The magic doesn't end when the curtain falls. It follows you home, glowing in your memory like that illuminated tent against the darkness.
And in the end, that's not just entertainment—that's essential.
