Oh, the magic of theater: So widely touted, so rarely achieved. It’s the singular production indeed wherein a gleam of magic truly surfaces among the mere mortals performing their two hours traffic on the stage. That honest-to- goodness alchemy wherein your suspension of disbelief jumps morphs into the belief of something truly extraordinary is as common as midsummer night in midwinter. Yet midway through Red moon’s whimsical and beautiful Winter Pageant Redux, magic surfaces.
   Like a chorus of Pied Pipers, the cast – without saying a word or making the hint of a beckoning gesture – draws first one, than two than a school yard full of children into the playing area. Nobody invites the kids up or tells them what to do, they drift into the scene like toy boats pulled by tides, their blocking perfect, their emotional honesty a reminder of what we humans inevitably loose by the time we hit middle school or so. And as Redmoon’s cast about their business, the ad hoc host of youngsters, morphs from audience into ensemble members.
Collecting scraps of paper and turning it into a snow storm, swimming in an invisible ocean and chortling with awe as paper clouds and a singing moon fly by, the kids create a grand finale as moving and authentic as a troupe of gifted professionals nailing a scene after months of regimented rehearsal. Unrehearsed, the Winter Pageant’s ending moments ring with spontaneous joy and lovely spectacle. Only an irredeemably embittered Scrooge could fail to feel the ebullience in the quasi-free-for-all.
   Barely an hour long, the Winter Pageant is more of a meditation on the four seasons than a narrative story. There’s really no plot, just a series of fantasies that move from blazing hot summer sun to the rattle of boney trees in fall to the harsh, crystal cold blue of winter. Instead of dialogue, we get living art installations: Office workers swelter at bright yellow typewriters, stirring up breezes by popping wheelies in their desk chairs and spritzing each other with spray bottles. A flock of life-sized, puppet geese migrate through a flaming leaves and windy clothes lines against “pitiless sky, cold as a psychopath’s eyes.” A blizzard of paper snowflakes tumbles onto a quartet of one-of-a-kind Nickelodeons that revolve and reveal open-minded (literally) mannequins and garden-sprouting shoes. It’s classic Redmoon, an audaciously creative phantasmagoria of sound and sight.    Directed by Vanessa Stalling, the seven-person cast creates a production grounded in ritual and the melancholy of fleeting time, in clowning and in spectacle and in the power of hope and comfort of cycles. Spring, after all, does follow winter with reliable predictability. Or as Redmoon posits, a reunion of sailors in a bathtub lost at sea is a harbinger of happiness.
At times, the Pageant borders near precious. And that bathtub scene goes on long enough so that those with a low tolerance for whimsy are apt to become a bit annoyed. Even so, this is a show of splendors. Dancing fish in smart, burgundy suits, aviators barnstorming through clouds, a scuba diver straight out of a Jules Verne fantasia and a long winter’s nap interrupted by the funniest case of restless leg syndrome you’ll see anywhere – all are pulled off with the panache and sublime beauty we’ve come to expect from Redmoon.

“Winter Pageant Redux” continues through Dec. 21 at Redmoon Central, 1463 W. Hubbard St., Chicago. Tickets are $15 for adults, $10 children under 13. For more information, go to www.redmoon.org or call 312/850-8440, Ext. 111.

Photos courtesy of Redmoon

Top: The cast

Bottom:  Alex Balestrieri (front), and Brandon Boler