Review of Cavalia at FL State Fairgrounds: Pretty horses, pretty amazing

in which two white horses ridden by two white-clad princesses literally mirror each other in a courtly minuet. The overall effect — the syncopated stepping, the stately Bolero-like accompaniment, the massive castle gates projected onto the backdrop — was mesmerizing.

The rhythms of Cavalia seemed to settle into more of a balance after that, and the performers, both two- and four-legged, seemed more in tune with one another.

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There's a terrific and very funny display of cowboy one-upsmanship in which the horses seem to be having just as much fun as their masters (you won't believe how fast they tear across the stage, or the precarious perches of the cowboys, and girls). There's a delicate ballet between an aerial dancer (suspended by bungee cord) and the horse and rider below. And, as with any Cirque-inspired show, there are some truly astounding trampoline artists, but in this case they land on moving targets.

But the most astonishing moment in the show is the simplest.

A horse comes running into the space alone, no rider. Then another. And another. And another. Until finally there nine horses, no human in sight — just us, the audience, collectively holding our breaths as the horses mill about. Then their trainer (the gifted Sylvia Zerbini) enters — and gently, with the subtlest of hand gestures, she leads them through a series of unison movements and symmetrical formations that are, frankly, amazing.

I overheard people talking serious equestrian talk after the show, arguing the fine points of dressage, naming the breeds they own themselves. Maybe it's commonplace in their circles to see horses doing the things the Cavalia troupe — and especially Zerbini — gets them to do.

But for this observer, and I suspect for many others, the fact that horses can do some of this stuff is  flat-out unbelievable. Just be prepared to let the show grow on you; I suspect there's much you'll see here that you'll never forget.