Hephaestus: A Greek Mythology Circus Tale

High-wire act

By Nina Metz
Special to the Tribune
Published September 9, 2005

WITH ITS SELF-SERIOUSNESS and new-age spectacle--plus a conspicuous lack of animals--Montreal's Cirque du Soleil has revolutionized the very concept of a circus show. Here in Chicago, in the years since the Cirque phenomenon hit critical mass, Lookingglass Theatre has been the primary troupe to incorporate circus tricks--including high-wire and aerial work--into its productions.

But nothing thus far compares in scope to the ensemble's newest work.

This month, Lookingglass takes on circus whole-hog with "Hephaestus: A Greek Mythology Circus Tale," which is in previews this weekend. The play illustrates the life of Hephaestus, a lesser-known god who was born weak and crippled. Disowned by Hera, his mother, he is tossed out of the heavens and tumbles down to the ocean, where he is adopted by a group of sea nymphs. He becomes a metal crafts-man, forging beautiful pieces of jewelry for the nymphs.

A 9-year-old narrator guides the audience through the story, which is illustrated through circus acts. The sea nymphs, for example, dangle and elegantly twist their bodies around yards of nylon fabric suspended from the ceiling, an apparatus known as the silks (and for this production tie-dyed in greens and blues to resemble kelp and seaweed).

Their act includes the pulse-quickening trick known as the "monster drop," in which their bodies hurl to the floor in an explosion of unraveling fabric.

Though many aspects of the show have much in common with the artistry of Cirque du Soleil, there is at least one element of "Hephaestus" that co-creator Tony Hernandez hopes will be different. Cirque shows, he says, are ostensibly built around a storyline, but "I always leave scratching my head and a little frustrated."

He's not alone. Of all the things Cirque does well, a well-executed narrative is not one of them.

In "Hephaestus," however, storytelling is just as important as dazzling. Hernandez calls it a melding of circus and theater. "It's not Ringling Bros., it's not the Goodman--it's a cross."

He knows of what he speaks, having spent five years touring with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus during the 1990s, starring in his family's teeterboard act.

And while the Cirque empire has some detractors, Hernandez is quick to point out that it has reinvigorated what was fast becoming a dying art form. "A lot of us have a career because of Cirque, either directly or indirectly."

In fact, he says, "a lot of circus people are doing production for Cirque. They've all moved to Vegas. They're calling it the new Sarasota"--the Ringling Bros. winter headquarters in Florida. "They're doing the technical work, the rigging."

No performing?

"There are very few actual circus people in Cirque," he says with a rueful look. "They're mostly dancers or gymnasts that they train in a specific skill."

Raised in the circus, Hernandez says his parents first brought him on stage when he was just a few months old. "We have pictures of it, actually." By the age of 2, he was pummeling off the teeterboard, a full-fledged member of the act. When he was 6 years old, he was interviewed by TV's "Captain Kangaroo" for a segment that focused on circus performers.

Suffice it to say, Hernandez, a compact, graceful athlete who portrays the show's title character, has major circus cred.

So does nearly everyone he recruited. They are among the world's top circus performers, including Olga Pikhienko, the lithesome Russian contortionist who starred in Cirque's "Verekai," seen in Chicago two years ago.

In "Hephaestus," she will portray Aphrodite.

"What better than for the goddess of love to be a contortionist," Hernandez says. A naughty grin spreads across his face.

The circus community, it seems, is a small one. Lijana Wallenda-Hernandez, wife of Tony, is a 7th-generation member of the Wallenda family, also known as the Flying Wallendas, famous for their high-wire pyramids. She will play Hera, the mother who abandons Hephaestus, as well as a sea nymph.

The lineup also includes yet more Wallendas--Nikolas and Erendira--in addition to Lauren Hirte (the title character in "Lookingglass Alice"), Rick Kubes (Redmoon Theatre), Almas Meirmanov (a Ringling Bros. veteran known for his hand-balancing act), Brent Roman (a Cirque alum), Dallas Zoppe (whose act involves several hula hoops) and local actor Rani Waterman.

"Most people in the show are family or really good friends," Hernandez says. It is because these performers are in such demand that the Lookingglass run is so short, wrapping up on Sept 25. Because most in the cast have been on the road performing, they have just two days of rehearsal before Sunday's opening.

Comparisons with Cirque and its intimate tent setting are inevitable, but the Lookingglass space is even smaller.

"People are going to be so close," says Heidi Stillman, who is co-creator and co-director with Hernandez. "The high-wire goes right over the audience." She turns to her collaborator. "It's going to be very intense when you walk over the heads of the audience. They'll be able to hear you breathing."

"A lot of the circus people are going to be blown away by how tight it is in here," he responds. "We're used to performing in places like Madison Square Garden. But in those places, you can't see anyone's face [in the crowd]. It's misery working in a three-ring circus and you don't know if anyone's watching."

It's safe to assume all eyes will be glued for the grand finale, a Wallenda high-wire pyramid.

"It's a huge trick and it's very dangerous," says Hernandez, who is also performing in the stunt. "My wife will be on the very top, sitting in a chair and then standing."

Hernandez is matter-of-fact about his fears. "I feel safer doing stuff like this than I do in a car." Stillman has a thought on why that is. "It's because you're in control when you're doing each trick." Hernandez nods. "It's scarier for me to think of sitting in an office all day."

Don't be fooled, this is serious business.

"Growing up in the circus, you have to learn to do everything yourself," Hernandez explains. "It's very old-fashionedy. You don't hire out people to make your costumes or build your rigs. You do all of that yourself."

The rigging, in particular, is a major concern.

"My wife will only let me or her father do her rigging," he says. A number of Wallendas have perished over the years because of rigging mistakes. Perhaps most famously, her grandfather, Karl Wallenda, died at the age of 72 while attempting to cross a high-wire spanning the air between two hotels in Puerto Rico.

And while Hernandez and Stillman want audiences to be wowed, they've added an emotional context, as well, something you don't often get when the circus decamps in large arenas like the United Center.

Or as Hernandez puts it, "This is going to be straight-up entertainment."

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`Hephaestus: A Greek Mythology Circus Tale'

When: Through Sept. 25

Where: Lookingglass Theatre, 821 N. Michigan Ave. inside the Water Tower Water Works

Price: $20-$58; 312-337-0665

Lookingglass has set aside a block of $10 tickets for kids 16 and under to select "Hephaestus" performances. Discounted tickets will be offered: 6:30 p.m. Thursday; 3 p.m. Sept. 17; 6:30 p.m. Sept. 22; 3 p.m. Sept. 24; and 3 p.m. Sept. 25. Thursday and Sunday performances are followed by free post-show discussions where kids can meet performers.