By Tea Rat, Critic at Large
(and Purveyor of Fine Teas)
Anticipation, so the dictionaries tell us, is the emotional and enthusiastic looking forward to a future pleasurable event. Ah! But will the event itself disappoint, or will it meet or even exceed expectations? That is a Gordian conundrum that even fabled Alexander could never have solved either by brain or brawn.
In such a state, I, accompanied by my dearest friend and colleague, Rattus Scribus, took my seat in the front balcony stage left just as the lights dimmed and nothing less than magic began.
The acrobatics of Bebe, Jasper, Gretta, Raccoon, and Mozes enthralled the entire audience. We cowed in fear for the safety of Gretta and Raccoon on the high wires. We utterly doubted our senses that the fabulous Bebe juggled no less than 13 balls at once. We laughed ourselves nearly to hospital at the sight of manly Mozes the bear in a pink tutu. And Joli's Can Can was simply scandalous, and we loved it so.
But I would be neanderthal in mind and manners if I continued this review without mentioning the crowning element of the evening.
Miss Moussie, from whom the show derives its fame and light -- as the first glorious flower in Eden derived its splendor from the new-made sun -- introduced and proctored the entire theatre production with beauty, grace, poise, and brilliant elocution.
It was the first time I had been in the same physical proximity of what is, quite simply, the brightest star in the thespian firmament, and whose fame and form I have followed and adored for years.
But I fear that in Miss Moussie's presence, I was like poor Icarus, who foolishly flew in wax and feathers too close to the sun.
For I was so overwhelmed in senses and emotion that I was compelled like a Dervish possessed to join the performers on stage. I repent of the act now. But I assure you, that moment of actually being in the magic, and afterward meeting Miss Moussie herself, will remain a highlight of my existence in this life and the next.
Miss Moussie's Cirque de la Lune or Travelin' Show did not merely meet my expectations. It surpassed, excelled and transcended my loftiest conceptions of the theatre. Indeed, I must now consider new descriptive paradigms altogether.
And the Divine Miss M? She eclipsed as the sun over this small terrestrial sphere all previous conceptions and expectations of feminine beauty and grace.
So, do I give Miss Moussie and her Travelin' Show two paws up as my fellow critic Rattus Scibus did? The question is of course rhetorical at this point.
The Hindu gods haven't enough arms to express my unqualified recommendation. Absolutely, paws up.
Critic at Large
Purveyor of Fine Teas
Text by Rattus Scribus
Art by Castles Crowns & Cottages