Absinthe and Beyond: Artistic and Physical Energy

The performance of Absinthe at Spiegelworld on Friday, at South Street Seaport, was an intimate, stunning tour-de-force. I sat with my date at the very front, literally just a foot or two away from the small circular stage. Knowing the show would be an erotically-charged cabaret performance, rather like a small-scale adult-version of Cirque de Soleil, we both expected that we would probably be involved in the theatrics of the evening. And we weren't disappointed.


Absinthe features a series of performances and theatrics, tied together by a slinky MC cabaret singer hostess and two comic, acrobatic performers. A 2006 review of the show on NY Times gives an adept synopsis of the show, but also reveals that the performers and their acts are varied with the show. The NY Times review features the act of a man in a bathtub, which was entirely absent from the performance I saw Friday. Regardless, the acts highlighted an unbelievable array of the acrobatically impressive and skilled to the comic and the bawdy. A more recent review of Absinthe, along with another Spiegelworld show, La Vie, from 2007, can be seen here. As the review states, be prepared for the intimacy of the show and possible audience participation.

The act which my date was called to participate in involved the "married couple" comic hosts who introduced their act as a demonstration on how to correctly make use of bananas in erotic play. Their performance consisted of shooting banana bites from their mouths across the stage into the mouth of their partner -- and also an attempt to shoot banana bites into the mouth of my date. As their act wound down, the bites became chewed up, processed banana sludge which they continued to switch back and forth.

This sort of jarring physical humor was balanced with acts purely gorgeous and breathtaking in their grace, from a hula-hooping gymnast/contortionist to a roller-skating couple whose finale included the woman attached to her partner by neck-braces and her whirling in the air, turning her entire body while only supported by her neck.

And the act which I was included in: an incredibly robotic, mechanical-styled dancer who lip-synced snippets of the song, and in a "low battery" pause, took my hand to have me "power him up" and stage-snuck a kiss on the lips with me.

Needless to say, it was a fun, fully captivating evening.

And, not to diminish my enjoyment of and satisfaction with the evening, the weekend continued in the same vein. Saturday I went dancing with a few friends of mine at Cattyshack, a ladies' club in Park Slope.

We stayed there, mostly dancing, until closing time at 4:00 am. The spirit of dancing camaraderie bordered on the libidinous. While there, we all donned creatures-of-the-night personas, temporarily paused in a collective dance trance, transported to a world apart from our daily cares.

And the next evening, Sunday, I found myself in a friend-of-a-friend's apartment in Harlem for a dinner party. In addition to my friend, I had only met one other person before. The evening felt like a throwback to a college dorm night, where a group of people sat discussing life and love and work. Having this sort of evening engaging in ponderous, meaningful and personal conversation was refreshing.

And so this weekend perfectly encapsulated my idealization of NYC culture at its height: a heady mix of the personal and anonymous, where we can both, and even simultaneously, lose ourselves and intimately connect, on emotional and physical levels.