A mix of the bizarre and the exuberant, Cirque de la Conquista was inspired by a ritual dance/pantomime done by Mayan villagers in rural Guatemala.

One of the war cries of conservatives, compassionate or otherwise, is “unforeseen consequences.” For some reason, the term is always negative — as though all unforeseen consequences are evil. In fact, the consequences, good or evil, of any act are always unclear. That’s why we’re blessed with such a throng of tarot readers at Jackson Square.

Who would have guessed, for instance, when Barbara Motley was renovating an abandoned building on Saint Charles Avenue to house le chat noir cabaret — a swank, sophisticated night spot — that it would emerge as one of the most interesting and active theaters in the city?

This surpasses the theory of unforeseen consequences, it is positively “pataphysical.” Pataphysics (for the uninitiated) was invented around the turn of the century by Alfred Jarry (author of Ubu Roi). He defined it as “the science of the rules governing exceptions.” This, of course, is the perfect science for New Orleans — just as Expedite is our patron saint.

In any case, the latest pataphysical occurrence at le chat noir is an accomplished and engrossing production of True West. Sam Shepard’s darkly humorous paean to sibling rivalry in the subdivided wide-open spaces is about as far as one can get from cabaret, at least in the somewhat antiseptic sense we have come to think of cabaret, as in: “The lady in the black gown, stretched out on the baby grand, doing a jazzy stylization of La Vie en Rose.”

If one were to hazard a guess as to why Big Shoulders, a promising new production company, chose True West for its premiere, the answer would have to be Jerry Lee Leighton. Leighton (who is familiar to theatergoers from a wide range of deft performances) has such an effortless grasp on the character of Lee, the criminal brother, you would think Shepard wrote it with him in mind. Lee is the driving force of the play; he is the interloper who arrives unannounced and gradually undermines his successful screenwriter sibling. One of the key ingredients in Lee’s persona is menace.

And while this is easy to overdo, the play rarely fails because Lee is not menacing enough. The hard thing to get — and the crucial thing for the play to keep a comic edge — is the country-boy charm and mischievous inscrutability of this desperate individual. Lee is completely bluffing. He has no idea where he is going. And he is at least as amazed as his brother at the near success of his wildly inappropriate con. Leighton lets us see this mixture of astonishment and frustration.
As Austin, the “good” brother, Eddie Collins does a fine job. He seems able to stand up to Lee in the beginning, which makes us more interested in him and also increases the sense of the world having gone topsy-turvy in the end. Gavin Mahlie brings a touch of naturalness to Saul, the Hollywood producer — a role that strains credulity under the best of circumstances.

True West, which marks the directorial debut for actress Jennifer Tuttle, is an exuberant take on this bizarre classic.

The adjectives “exuberant” and “bizarre” also come handily to mind to describe another recent production, Tristan Codrescu’s Cirque de la Conquista at the Contemporary Arts Center. A retelling of the conquest of the Aztec empire by Cortez, this circus-based presentation was inspired by a ritual dance/pantomime done by Mayan villagers in rural Guatemala.

Visually, Cirque was often arresting, with excellent costumes by Jaques Duffore, Joan Baker and others. There was a marvelous chaos of circus apparatus and Mayan artifacts, including a huge, pyramidal altar.

The premise concerns an invading army composed of a conquistador in battle fatigues aided by two red-nosed ecclesiastical clowns in cassocks and bearing crosses that say “Your Ad Here.” Arrayed against him were native forces led by Moctezuma (a fat, jaded Barret O’Brien), his allies, and a variety of gods (including the cigar-smoking deity Mashimon). Jugglers, stilt walkers, fire eaters and other circus performers were woven into the narrative.

Often the individual turns were quite stunning, as in the trapeze dance of the hummingbird (Amanda Boyden), but the archaic poesy of the dialogue (“Are they true these words that you speak”) served neither to make these creatures more real nor more mythic. And I can’t say I came away with any new insights about Mexico or imperialism, or circuses, for that matter. What was enjoyable in the show was the enthusiasm of the ensemble, and the simple, but daring stage craft.

But if Cirque was mixed bag — a bit of a mish-mashimon, you might say — it was the sort of experiment that points to interesting future possibilities. The enthusiasm needs to be disciplined by clearer thought.