10. Just seeing the intricate structure -- erected in the Dr Pepper Ballpark's parking lot in Frisco -- is impressive. Calling it "The Grand Chapiteau" might be a little hoity-toity, but it's neato nonetheless.
9. Let's get this out of the way up front because I know it's a prerequisite to even considering it: Yes, they sell alcohol. And, yes, there is a halftime.
8. Don't let the sequined leotards and the vulva-driven flyer fool you -- "An immersion into the teeming and energetic world of insects" -- at the root of the show is athletic entertainment. Promise.
7. I'm known in some vicious circles as the P90x Douche, and after a 90-day workout program last summer I got to where I could do 25 chin-ups without stopping or puffing. But at this show a guy -- dressed in a dragonfly suit and called "Orvalho" -- does stuff even Jack LaLanne and Criss Angel can't fathom. He climbs atop a 10-foot pole with a hand-sized knob atop. He then does one-arm handstands, alternating between arms while getting airborne in the exchange. Then, swear, the guy lays his body out almost parallel to the ground. If I didn't know better I'd say it was one of those smoke-n-mirror YouTube videos. But it ain't.
6. The acts are fantastic, but the fluff of the show is annoying. The whole thing last two hours, with probably 45 minutes of actual wowiness. The rest is intermission or these dorky, silly hosts who buzz around trying to be funny and prompt crowd interaction while camouflaging set changes. It's kinda like watching the gymnastics floor exercise in the Olympics. The actual tumbling is entertaining, but it's the time-wasting, breath-catching prancing that turns us off to the sport.
5. There is a group of "Ants" that have more detailed dexterity with their feet than you do with your hands. These six women lay on their back and basically juggle plastic "corn" and "kiwi" with absolutely perfect choreography. Not one slip-up. Every move and motion was identical. In the end it was Ants juggling Ants who were juggling corn and kiwi. Sounds stupid, but it's actually impressive. Made me ponder how many hundreds or thousands of times each girl tried to perfect the routine, and then again to practice perfecting it in unison with five other women.
4. If at any time the show bores you, take a look around. It's Frisco. Betcha $1 you can't turn your head without spotting a MILF with DDs who arrived via SUV.
3. For me the show-stealer was Slackwire, a dude kinda dressed as a spider who basically did tricks while balanced on the old clothes line strung up outside your Grandma's house. It's a high-wire tight rope, but with slack in it. Oh yeah, and it's constantly lowering and raising, up to 15 feet in the air. It's upon this moving, slacking wire that the guy walks, runs, does a one-arm handstand and -- for the impossible climax -- rides an upside-down unicycle with his hands on the pedals. I'm sure I did a horrible job of explaining the act. And that's because I'm still not sure what I saw, other than I know it's wholly impossible.
2. Don't wanna spoil the finale, but to say the least I was disappointed what ultimately hatched out of the show's centerpiece -- a precious egg. Let. Down.
1. It's not as in-your-face athletically awe-inspiring as, say, a Roddy Beaubois coast-to-coast drive and dunk, but witnessing the refined, precise skills are worth the price of admission. At the very least, it's like the best of the best NBA halftime shows. At the very most, it's like nothing you've ever seen before. Because of a couple snow days, Cirque Du Soleil OVO runs through February 27. Mute your lazy and go have some fun will ya?
