Let The Sun(nyside)shine In

Lettttt the sunshine in
Lettttt the sunshine in
The suuuunnn shiiiiine in

This was the song that ended the show, sent us on our way, the denouement of Absinthe, a burlesque, circus of sorts playing at the Spiegeltent at the South Street Seaport. A show full of feats of strength, balance, and more penis jokes than a junior high schoolyard. In fact, the humor, which filled in between acts, was so lewd that I was surprised that (a) there were so many older people in the audience [over 65], and (b) they didn't get up and leave midway through, which actually happened at my viewing of The Lieutenant of Inishmore, or as I like to call it, The Bloodiest, Most Murder-Filled, Body-Hacking Play I've Ever Seen on Broadway. Also one of the funniest, if you like dark, dark, body parts on stage-type comedy. Apparently, I do.

The show began before the show. Walking out to the end of Pier 17 carried the smell of the river and a light fish scent, permanently steeped into the wood pier and cement buildings from the Seaport's previous incarnation, The Fulton Fish Market, which dated back to 1822, but has since been relocated, most likely, because there are too many upscale stores and restaurants currently inhabiting the Seaport and the clientele surely doesn't care to smell fish while they wine and dine and shop. The Brooklyn Bridge was resplendent in the background, its gleaming cables reminiscent of spiderwebs and its Gothic styling seemingly more ancient than its true age. Underneath the bridge, close to the Brooklyn side, was a free-standing waterfall; a recently commissioned work of art by the well-known physical-visual artist, Olafur Eliasson. The simplicity of the waterfall and its curious placement under the bridge made everything seem slightly skewed. Maybe that is the impression which was intended. It certainly was in line with the evening.

After taking pictures of the waterfall with our cell phones, my date and I, ventured deeper into the Absinthe complex, or rather, as far as the bar, where we ordered two cocktails. Made with absinthe, of course.

"Is that real absinthe?" I asked. I had read about absinthe being served elsewhere in the city, but still doubted whether it was legal to serve actual absinthe, containing the allegedly addictive psychoanalytic drug, Thujone.

The bartender said yes and showed me the bottle, but it was dark and all I could read was the brand name. Not wanting to keep asking questions, which the bartender probably didn't know the answer to anyway, I kept my mouth shut.

The cocktails came in low-ball plastic glasses and were of the signature neon-ish green particular to absinthe. I had never tasted absinthe before and was intrigued about the flavor. It wasn't sweet, but rather had more of a licorice flavor. It was strong, too. One drink felt like two, possibly three. I had to sip it slowly, but the more I drank of it, the smoother it went down. Whether that was due to the ice melting and increasing the water content or the inherent property of drinking alcohol, I'm not sure, but towards the bottom it got better and better.

While we sipped our drinks, we made our way to the entrance line. Having purchased my tickets through American Express, we received VIP preferred seating, allowing us to get on the shorter line that entered first and get really good seats. I guess membership really does have it's privileges.

Inside, the Spiegeltent is something of a revelation. It's an original tent from the early 1900s, or so my date said, full of mirrors, stained glass, booths, lights, smoke machines, all circling around a main stage. It's very debonair [In a carny way] and intimate. We sat close enough to the center stage so that I was able to be fondled by the cabaret singer and slapped with her leather hand whip as well. She also fell in my lap and while singing a song and bent over at the waist and shoved her ass in my face. Like I said before, we had really good seats.

The acts were top-notch. Cirque du Soleil might have more accomplished acrobats, or more skilled strength performers, they certainly have more performers [Absinthe had less than 12], but the atmosphere, the occasional spells of nudity, the titillation, the lewd, provocative, scathing humor targeting old people, kids, gays, straights, gays again, Republicans, everyone, the showmanship, the intimacy of the audience, the interaction with the audience, the beauty of the venue, the "Something Wicked This Way Comes" carnival vibe, the Thujone surging through my veins, the green fairies flying through my mind, the electronic music, thumping, reverberating, well coordinated in time with each performer's gyrations and holds, the contortions, the bawdiness, my date on my right, all proved that this is no Cirque du Soleil, this is more, this is so much more.

Jared