What does the word “circus” bring to mind? Perhaps superhuman skills, juggling or a four-person tower? If so, “Passengers” has it all. And some more.
“Passengers,” now playing at the American Repertory Theater (A.R.T.) through September 26, is a captivating blend of acrobatics, musical theater and poetic monologues by The 7 Fingers, an artist collective based in Montréal. Written, choreographed and directed by The 7 Fingers co-founder Shana Carroll, the production explores themes of time and coming-of-age, emphasizing the journey over the destination. Without plot or extensive dialogue, “Passengers” challenges the traditional narrative structure, entertaining with movement, light and sound.
Amidst dramatic lighting and melancholy music, “Passengers” introduces its nine characters, all about to board a train. The performers play off of each other, each of them telling anecdotes in exaggerated movements that emphasize community and collaboration. The production had few decorative props—such as hula hoops, aerial silks and an especially daunting trapeze—most of which performers used to perform their tricks.
This simplicity allows “Passengers” to feel very intimate and sincere. As an audience member, it doesn’t just feel like you’re watching a story unfold; it’s as if you’re contributing to and similarly experiencing the extremely human emotions, desires and perspectives of the performers on stage. The few production elements, such as the lighting and background graphics, are extremely well-done and original.
The acrobatic medium of “Passengers” usually complements its narrative goals: constant movement emphasizes travel and the journey, the trust between performers underscores the communities we build as we move through life and the real danger of some of tricks mirrors the true fear often felt when we face transitions in life.
One particularly terrifying moment is when performer Santiago Rivera Laugerud, upside down at the top of a Chinese pole, simply drops and comes rushing to the ground, only finally catching himself when his head hangs inches from death. The two of us jumped in our seats just watching him, and this experience of fear and anxiety during the acrobatics routines is intentional: the audience’s fright for the actors is the manifestation of how one’s journey can be—and is—scary.
The overall silence of the production places a lot of significance in moments where the characters do speak, and this is where “Passengers” falls flat. The incredible movement and gravity-defying routines place the bar too high; each soliloquy feels out of place and stilted, too explicitly reflective and at times too stereotypical to emulate the novelty with which the silent parts of the show explore profoundly human emotions and experiences. Still, this flaw can be mostly overlooked: choreography is the star of the show and is far more memorable.
“Passengers” truly is a sight to see! There are not many opportunities to witness a grand mashup of acrobatics with practically every other art there is. Not only does the performance stretch beyond the conventional route of storytelling, it also surpasses the limits of the circus by breathing a fundamentally human theme into a near-supernatural (and previously only entertainment-centered) medium. However, we were a bit disappointed by its hollow dialogue and want for plot—especially as it is advertised as, among many other things—a play.
