London – It takes confidence to shrink the Royal Albert Hall.
Yet Cirque du Soleil’s OVO does precisely that. Within minutes, the vast domed auditorium gives way to a hyperactive microcosm — an insect colony in perpetual motion, buzzing with colour, rhythm and acrobatic daring.
Cirque describes OVO as “a kaleidoscopic journey into a day in the life of an insect colony”, and the production largely delivers on that promise. The title — meaning “egg” in Portuguese — anchors the show’s loose narrative. A giant egg lands among the insects, prompting curiosity, rivalry and romance. It is a simple device, but an effective one, offering just enough structure to connect the set-pieces without slowing the pace.
Director and choreographer Deborah Colker has spoken of emphasising “constant movement and colour”, and the stage rarely rests. The choreography feels less like traditional circus sequencing and more like organised swarm behaviour. Performers stream across the stage in intricate patterns, creating the illusion of spontaneous life while executing feats of formidable control.
The red Ants’ juggling routine is a standout: technically exacting yet playful, with performers tossing not only props but each other with disarming ease. The Butterflies’ aerial straps duet brings elegance and symmetry, while the Dragonfly act showcases raw upper-body strength in slow, controlled inversions. High above, scarabs hurtle across a six-metre gap between platforms — a moment of genuine vertigo that earns audible gasps.
What distinguishes OVO is not merely difficulty but cohesion. Colker’s choreographic language translates insect movement into something recognisably human. The aerial silk sequence — charting a creature’s metamorphosis into a butterfly — avoids sentimentality yet carries emotional weight. It is transformation rendered through muscle and suspension.
The visual design reinforces the theme. There are no rigid lines in this world; everything curves, folds or spirals. Oversized flowers loom above the action, and a vast climbing wall becomes a vertical racetrack for crickets who scale it at astonishing speed without visible support. Gravity, here, is negotiable.
Musically, the Brazilian-inflected score — drawing on samba, bossa nova, funk and electronic textures — gives the production its propulsive heartbeat. The live band responds dynamically to the performers, maintaining an energy that feels elastic rather than mechanical. Even sampled insect sounds are woven into the mix, subtly grounding the spectacle in its natural premise.
Narratively, the love story between a gawky Voyager fly and a spirited Ladybug is slight, but that is not the point. OVO thrives less on plot than on atmosphere — on the tension between order and chaos, precision and exuberance. The colony’s world, with its shifting alliances and hierarchies, becomes an abstract mirror of our own.
If there is a risk in such relentless movement, it is sensory overload. Yet the production largely avoids excess through disciplined timing and tonal variation. Moments of stillness — brief though they are — allow the audience to recalibrate before the next burst of athletic audacity.
Ultimately, OVO succeeds because it marries virtuosity with clarity. It does not rely solely on spectacle; it frames that spectacle within a coherent aesthetic vision. In doing so, it transforms the Royal Albert Hall into something unexpectedly intimate — a reminder that even at ground level, in the smallest ecosystems, life is charged with drama and resilience.
OVO runs at the Royal Albert Hall until 1 March 2026.
Cirque du Soleil’s OVO will tour Italy in April 2026, featuring performances in Rome at the Palazzo dello Sport from April 2–5, 2026, and in Bergamo at the ChorusLife Arena from April 9–12, 2026. Tickets are available through TicketOne, Ticketmaster Italia, and StubHub.