Twenty years ago in San Diego the French word "cirque" had a strange and exotic ring to it that lured us to a parking lot in Balboa Park where a hitherto unfamiliar troupe from Quebec had pitched a modest tent wherein they put on a show called Le Cirque de Soleil. There we sat on backless benches, bewitched out of any discomfort and enchanted by a show whose originality and beauty left us emerging from its spell with wonder in our eyes.

But alas, so quick bright things come to confusion! Cirque de Soleil and its imitators swiftly proliferated like Starbucks, and soon such cirques and their ilk became plentiful as tabby cats. And with that proliferation came bloated spectacle.

It was therefore with a little trepidation that I went to the Civic Theatre to view Cirque Éloize. I had been there some months ago to see yet another so-called Cirque, neither Soleil nor Éloize, and had not very much enjoyed the experience. The name of Cirque had beguiled me with old memories. But the reality proved jarring. That other Cirque Manqué (whose true name shall forever now remain unwritten here) was overblown and so noisy I needed to stuff tissues into my ears. The performers, from all over the globe, were topnotch, but their acts were excessively glitzy and overproduced.

But what a pleasure to discover Cirque Éloize, and their new show which is called "Rain." Another Québécois troupe out of Montreal, they have been around since 1993, touring with a succession of offerings. But this is the first one I’ve seen, and what a delight it is. Though performed on a proscenium stage as a theatrical piece in our large Civic Theatre, "Rain" preserves the sort of grace and intimacy that I happily remember from my earliest cirque encounter.

Written and directed by Daniele Finzi Pasca, "Rain" is meant to evoke, according to its creator, something like childhood memories of playing in the rain, although this aspect does not come fully into action until the show’s captivating final scenes. What we are given until then is a succession of variety acts, beautifully staged (on a set designed by Guillaume Lord) and lighted (by Martin Labrecque) performed to soft and entrancing music, some recorded (composed by Maria Bonzanigo in a variety of intimate styles), some live (composed by Lucie Cauchon and peformed on piano and glockenspiel onstage by Jocelyn Bigras and saxophonist/acrobat/juggler Jean-Philipe Labelle, acrobat Jonas Woolverton playing accordian, as well as other performers who picked up bits of percussion), and with occasional gentle songs to lyrics by Finzi Pasca.

A mood of childlike simplicity was established at the outset when Ashley Carr and Nadine Louis gently inducted us into the show’s whimsical ambience with a shy and halting prologue, where they seemed to modestly apologize (claiming budget constraints) for what in fact turned out to be a most delicately extravagant show. Thereafter they returned in these established clownish personae to inject occasional deft silliness into the juggling, acrobatic, and contortion acts in which they fully participated. The clowning is pure and unadorned, done without any traditional clown costumes or make-up (which my 9-year-old niece, thoroughly enjoying the show in the seat beside me, said she would have found offputting anyway, as she considers clowns creepy). Instead, costumed by Mérédith Caron mainly in what resembled bathing suits of a century ago, the clowning is performed with a deadpan simpleness that recalls silent film performers such as Buster Keaton.

Moments of delectable hilarity included a Strong Men act where Carr attempted to strut his stuff but always ended up odd man out, a deliciously inventive piece of group clowning with two upright pianos, and a funny interlude of Suitcase Contortion in which the astonishingly flexible Louis was miraculously (and with a show of some reluctance) stuffed into a small suitcase and carried off. Numerous awesome feats of balancing, juggling, trapeze swinging, and hoop spinning were performed, all with flowing grace and whimsicality. A satisfyingly extended teeterboard act leading up to intermission was both thrilling and witty, as performers were catapulted high into the air in often surprising directions.

Each of the thirteen performers established their recognizable stage personalities. Particularly noticeable and relishable was the big goofy character projected by Anna Ward and her ongoing byplay with wigs. But all of the spectacularly talented multi-national ensemble – who included Nicholas Boivin-Gravel, the sisters Oksana and Irina Burliy, Sandra Merette, Bartlomiej Pankau, Samuel Roy, and Jacek Wyskup – added hugely to the whole with their sharp individualities.

The promised waterplay began as Oksana Burliy towards the end of her penultimate graceful aerial hoop scene began to skim and splash with her feet on the surface of a shallow pond that had formed over the whole stage. This soon segued into a watery romp and frolic as a veritable rain fell and the whole cast slid and slipped to a thoroughly soaked conclusion. Beauty, magic, and sheer fun all merged in Cirque Éloize’s remarkable "Rain."

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