The circus is a source of thrills, a place of nostalgia for those who remember summers spent with family under colorful marquees, an amalgam of athleticism and the absurd, the rare place where jugglers, acrobats and fire-eaters can soar freely, a source of inspiration for countless films – and, not to be depressing, a commercial enterprise.
The circus needs to make money to keep its clowns clowning around.
Coming out of the pandemic, Cirque du Soleil was in trouble. The company had staked almost all of its revenue on in-person performances, with their dizzying displays of ballet-like grace and gravity-defying gymnastics. After securing itself from its creditors in 2020, Cirque decided it needed to be more than just a circus. He wanted to be a brand, something that could sell perfumes, sunglasses, tote bags and video games.
Over the past year, Cirque has therefore brought in consultants, resulting in months of meetings peppered with phrases like these:
“I think there is a real opportunity to elevate the art of clowning. »
“Do not concentrate on the Circus, but on the Sun [in French]. »
“We want to think of Sun as the building blocks of mood. »
“We gave you many things. »
” A lot of sun ! »
“So much Sun. »
Cirque du Soleil hired a company of “cultural analysts” called Cultique to answer an age-old question: Is it possible to create popularity from scratch?
Cultique says yes. Cultique analysts are on a mission to sell cool. And their work with Cirque this year provided insight into what it takes to change a company’s reputation, to transform a brand in a time when social media has made branding both more important and trickier than ever.
Cirque executives believed their company embodied everything Gen Z loves: outlandish costumes, kitschy makeup, daring athletic feats. Sequins, spandex, anything extra. Yet few of this generation – those born between 1997 and 2012, who today represent a consumer power of US$360 billion – seemed interested in the circus. The Cirque’s more than 40 shows sell 10 million tickets a year worldwide, particularly in Las Vegas, its US home base, but they mostly cater to middle-aged (or very young) audiences. The average Cirque spectator is 42 years old, according to the company. More than two-thirds of viewers have children under the age of 18.
Cirque du Soleil turned to Cultique to become more important. And Cultique promised, improbably, that even at a time when culture seems to be moving at the speed of a flying trapeze (sorry), it’s possible for a savvy old company to catch up.
“We literally help people get ahead,” said Linda Ong, co-founder and CEO of Cultique.
It is not particularly easy to define culture. It’s everything we wear (crochet, see-through fashions…), listen to (Dua Lipa, Doja Cat…), watch (Real Housewives, Barbie…). Ms. Ong uses aquatic metaphors to describe culture. It’s a wave, she says: you can ride it or be swept away.
Seemingly invincible brands have shown what it’s like to feel the cultural tide crumble. Pepsi ended up pulling a 2017 ad that showed Kendall Jenner handing a can of soda to a police officer. Bud Light lost its status as America’s top-selling beer after backlash to a trans influencer’s video promoting the beer in the spring. If the culture is water, the surface is cloudy.
That’s where Ms. Ong and her partner, Sarah Unger, come in. They promise to help companies design business strategies, marketing campaigns and products that appeal to cultural sensitivities – even before those sensitivities are fully formed. Cultique does not rely heavily on data. The two women believe that once the trends appear in the surveys, it is already too late. It is better to determine cultural obsessions before they appear on TikTok, before young people talk about them, before anyone recognizes that they are real.
“There are two kinds of people,” said Ms. Ong, 60. The people the culture excites and the people who don’t. »
Everyone at Cirque du Soleil was shocked to learn that I had never been to Cirque du Soleil.
“Is this your first Circus?” asked Michael Veilleux, the company’s senior touring director, during intermission at a Cirque show called Corteo (theme: funeral meets carnival) in Newark, New Jersey. “You don’t meet many people for whom this is their first Circus. »
It is true that he does not meet any. That’s part of the problem.
Cirque shows, as I have seen, feature dancers doing pole dancing, upside-down shoes with no feet, and clowns dressed up as horsebacks. They have an audience of hurried-looking parents and kids throwing popcorn on the floor. What they don’t seem to have is an extensive base of young adults as fans.
It was COVID-19 that caused Cirque du Soleil’s existential crisis and its decision to pursue a new cultural image. After Cirque executives met all of their immediate demands for March 2020 — sending performers home, storing hoops and pieces of silk in warehouses — the Montreal-based company laid off 95% of its 5,000-strong staff. There were only about 150 left. After the vaccines, as Cirque began to rehire these employees, executives swore they would prepare for pandemics. The Cirque could not entirely depend on its shows.
Circus leaders experiment to see everything a circus-curious youngster could buy. A video game titled Cirque du Soleil Tycoon (created with gaming company Roblox, due out July 28) in which players are challenged to build their own circus universe. A signature scent (for the clown lover in your life) and a homeware collection (complete with maximalist rugs and psychedelic curtains). Partnerships with companies like Motorola, which presented its new flip phone at an event organized in June with Cirque.
Cirque is working on a TV documentary series, which will likely be called Down to Clown. He plans to launch a convention this year inspired by Comic-Con, those fantastic events that attract tens of thousands of people each year.
“We’re going to try a lot of new things,” said Nickole Tara, 39, who left the world of music festivals last year to take up a newly created executive position at Cirque. “We need to embrace the Circus of the modern age. »
Some brands exude a cachet that attracts people. Supreme sneakers. Kylie cosmetics. Others need to think more seriously about what version of themselves they might be marketing – for example, how to turn a goofy old circus into a brand people consider relevant.
On this question, Cultique has no shortage of ideas, notably during a meeting in early March, during which a handful of Cirque leaders joined their cultural analysts to discuss what the success of their partnership would be.
“How do you become the theme of the Met Gala? Ms. Tara wondered.
“It’s not a crazy idea,” Ms. Ong replied. How do you make your events the equivalent of the Met Gala? »
The assembled group – which included Chris Bower, head of Cirque’s brand and social media strategy, and Rajiv Menon, analyst at Cultique – agreed that they wanted Cirque to be ubiquitous. He wanted people to wonder why, wherever they looked, there was Cirque du Soleil. Strolling through the Art Basel festival. Reigning over New York Fashion Week. Spotted with actress Jenna Ortega. Partner of Versace.
“Oh my god, everywhere I turn, Cirque is doing awesome things with awesome people,” Ms. Ong said, imagining the talk she wants to spark at the party.
For Ms. Ong, this doesn’t seem like a daunting task, as she already sees young people embracing the qualities associated with the circus, especially high performance. They simply do not make the connection with the activities of Cirque. According to her, Cirque must publicly appropriate the themes that permeate the culture, what she and Unger call “the strategy of the Sun”.
The word “nostalgia” came up often in conversations about reinventing Circus. “Nostalgic brands are on the rise,” Rajiv Menon, cultural analyst at Cultique, once said on Zoom. What could be more nostalgic than the circus, with its popcorn and clown noses?
Speaking of nostalgia, Cirque sometimes seems to run after its history. Before Cirque became a nearly $1 billion-a-year business — which it is doing again today, having rebounded from the pandemic — it was a group of acrobats and stilt walkers who put on a show for residents of a hostel in Quebec City. Cirque founder Guy Laliberté, who stepped down as CEO in 2004, rose to prominence as a fire-breathing entertainer on the streets of Montreal. He gathered his artist friends to create a festival.
Mr. Laliberté attributed part of the show’s success over the years to the parties he threw at his lakeside mansion: women sang opera on gondolas, a 19-piece orchestra sang the serenade, the host himself spit fire. These rowdy gatherings drew celebrities to Cirque’s mission, including George Harrison, who happened to attend while in town for a Formula 1 race and was so impressed he asked Laliberté to create a Beatles-themed show. (The first business meeting between Cirque and the band ended when Paul McCartney drew Nowhere Man, handed over the paper, and asked the Cirque team to “figure out what it means”).
If the Beatles loved the Cirque brand, why not Gen Z?
Cirque had its best financial year in 2022. Sitting at the Ludlow Hotel during a visit to New York last spring, Cirque executives explained to their cultural analysts that they had created a video showing how the Cirque brand could be transposed into fashion and homewares.
The video scrolled through images of acrobats, trapeze artists and clowns. Then commercial items appeared on the screen – tote bags, sunglasses, pants, pottery – along with the text “Prime for retail expansion”. It was a vision of what Cirque, disassociated from the circus, could be.
“This is what Cirque du Soleil – and the Sun – can look like in a physical object that someone would go and buy,” said Mr. Bower, Cirque’s brand strategy manager.
Cultural analysts were dazzled. “We love this relationship,” Ms. Ong said. It’s like improvisation. You grab the ball and think, ‘Great, OK, let’s do this!’ »
Later in the evening, the Cirque organized an event with Motorola in Brooklyn. Half-naked acrobats twirled through the purple, misty air. Eerie percussion music filled the room. Dancers clad in alien-looking leotards leapt onto the stage. And while the artists performed acrobatic leaps, Motorola unveiled its new flip phone, a nostalgic version of the accessory from the early 2000s.
“EXCESSIVE, OTHERWEATHER and EDGE-FASHIONED,” Ms. Ong said via text message. Totally up to the mark! »
