Join the Circus

Inch by inch, the aerialist in the red flamenco outfit edges her way up a tightrope stretched at a 45-degree angle from the main wire, 20 feet above the stage. Curling her toes downward to steady her grip, she clutches a fan for balance. There is no net. Snare drums strike up an ominous patter that warns the audience this is a trick with real danger. Suddenly, as the young woman nears the summit of the tent, her foot slips, and she struggles, desperately, to secure her footing. The crowd holds its breath, as if one errant sigh could send her plummeting. For a long second she hovers, perilously. Then, regaining her balance, she scampers the last few feet to safety, to thunderous applause.

It is a classic circus trick, performed flawlessly -- down to the expertly executed "slip" -- served up in a show that is unconventional, even by the bizarre standards of the big top. Sure, there are tumblers, but they are bouncing on beds, not trampolines; there are trapeze artists, but they twirl in the center of giant chandeliers, not between platforms. And what garden-variety circus is likely to begin with a death-bed scene starring a midget and a dying clown, with a band of acrobat angels hovering overhead? It could only be Cirque du Soleil.

The surreal new production, "Corteo," currently touring Canada, is the latest extravaganza produced by the privately held, Montreal-based entertainment company. It opened in late April, two months after the debut of "Ka," the company's $165 million martial-arts-themed production at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. This fall, in partnership with Clear Channel Communications, Cirque will mount a 100-date North American arena tour featuring the music of Cirque. Next year, it will premiere its much-anticipated collaboration with Apple Corps, the Beatles' record company, bringing the total number of Cirque shows in Vegas to five. A deal is in the works with Disney to mount Japan's first permanent show in Tokyo in 2008.

At a time when audiences for all performing arts are declining, Cirque du Soleil has taken a particularly moribund segment of the market -- the circus -- and created an entertainment juggernaut, with a burgeoning record label, a retail operation, and a deal with Carnival Cruise Lines. And we're not talking circus peanuts here. The company's Las Vegas shows regularly play to sold-out audiences of "kids of all ages" -- as long as those tykes are willing to shell out as much as $150 per ticket -- for a daily gross of a cool million. Can't get to Sin City? Then it's likely one of the company's six touring shows will cycle through your town, whether it be Barcelona, Minneapolis, or Sydney, sometime soon. Throw in the additional resident show, "La Nouba" at Disney World in Orlando, and the company's ticket sales top 7 million a year -- that's about 135,000 per week -- for annual revenues estimated at between $550 million and $600 million.

Pretty impressive for an operation that began as a band of Quebec street performers 21 years ago. And even more impressive than the dollars is the way Cirque du Soleil has captured the public's heart: In Interbrand's 2004 poll of brands with the most global impact, Cirque ranked No. 22 -- ahead of the likes of McDonald's, Microsoft, Volkswagen, and (ouch) Disney.

Clearly, we all have something to learn from these clowns (and acrobats and tumblers and dancers). You don't have to be a fan of the big top -- though, really, who doesn't love a circus? -- to understand that Cirque du Soleil is an impressive high-wire innovation act. Offbeat and wild it may be, but Cirque could still teach most businesses a thing or two about recruiting and retaining supremely talented specialists, coaxing extreme creativity from a diverse band of employees, and building a powerhouse global brand. But above all, it's a study in the virtues of taking big but controlled chances, as you'd probably expect in a business that's all about using skill and training to skirt death and disaster for the sake of beauty and laughs. "We like to take risks," says Daniel Lamarre, Cirque's president and COO, from a cafe in Barcelona, where he's visiting the road show "Dralion." "It's part of who we are. Every time we come in a comfort zone, we will find a way to get out, because being comfortable in our business is very, very dangerous."

The appetite for discomfort begins with the company's fundamental operating philosophy. Cirque has steadfastly refused to employ the impresario's favorite trick: Take a hit show (think Mamma Mia or Phantom of the Opera), clone it with a touring company, and send it on the road. Each Cirque du Soleil show is unique, one of a kind, despite stunningly high production costs. Even a traveling show, which doesn't require the enormous capital investment of a permanent theater, can cost upward of $25 million to mount and require three years to conceive, cast, design, train, and produce. And, as the backers of expensive Broadway stinkers like Taboo will tell you, even a fat wallet doesn't inoculate producers from the occasional bomb.