Now comes Quidam, with its own bag of tricks, including four young girls with sticks and strings juggling Chinese yo-yos; a muscular man spinning and twisting while maneuvering a huge metal wheel; and a team of 20 acrobats skipping rope in choreographed synchronization. What's interesting is that each act starts with a simple premise—girls with yo-yos, a guy in a big metal circle, a bunch of people skipping rope—that gradually builds to a level of astonishing athleticism and dexterity. It is human potential pushed to the extreme, and as Marie-Helene Gagnon, Quidam's artistic coordinator, notes, it is also likely aligned with the oldest form of performance art.

"What was the first show in the world? Most probably somebody stood on their hands and everyone went 'Wow,'" she says. "Yeah, most likely it was someone could do something that the others could not. … And so to me, this is something more essential and basic than [traditional] theater, but the images are just as sophisticated as a monologue. It is the message of the body."

Gagnon adds that while the acrobatics and body language are sure to elicit oohs and aahs because they are so breathtaking, the bottom line with any Cirque show is to strike a human chord. With Quidam, she observes, "I think this one is very urban and also very daring on the emotional track. If you see the aerial contortionist in the red silk fabric, she's trying to pull herself up, and she's going up and down, up and down, there's the split and all the contortion, and even if you're not a contortionist you know exactly what it is."

Like all Cirque shows, Quidam is based on a loose storyline, and this one concerns a young girl living an ordinary life who is drawn into a fantasyscape by a headless man holding an umbrella. The character is a direct nod to Magritte; Surreal imagery abounds throughout the entire production.

Careful eyes may notice how costumes suit the various characters' personalities and circumstances. In the beginning, people are dressed in white hazmat-type uniforms to signify living in a dull, anonymous society. One character sports a circular pattern that resembles a target, because, well, we are all targets at one time or another. The girls with yo-yos wear shiny space-age outfits to imply a far-reaching new world. And so it goes, for every character, every act, all the outfits from head to toe—the color, pattern, texture, hair, shoes—every detail has a purpose that serves the story.

But it's fine if you don't get all the symbolism. And forget about trying to translate the songs, because as Gagnon explains, "It's an invented language. We always work with words that are written for the sonority; for their sound and the note itself."

This is truly circus art, where ideas and actions are open to interpretation. As Gagnon states, "There may be times when people watching think it's funny and someone else may think, no it's sad. It just belongs to the people watching."

Quidam Starts Thu., July 6, $28-$190, Broad and Washington sts., 800-678-5440 or www.cirquedusoleil.com