COME FOR THE HORSES, STAY FOR THE HORSES.

Byline: Evan Henerson Theater Critic

MAYBE THE legions of actors who have griped over the years about sharing the stage with an animal aren't the ones we should be talking to. Perhaps the real question is whether the four-legged set should have to yield a portion of the spotlight to human beings.

There are human performers in ``Cavalia,'' a circuslike celebration of equine beauty and majesty playing under a self-contained big top in Glendale, and many of them are quite skilled. Riders, aerialists, contortionists and expert balance artists. These performers often have long, flowing hair and are wearing gauzy, voluminous costumes (designed by Mireille Vachon) that wouldn't make them out of place at a local Renaissance Faire. Or in Middle-earth.

How much you'll actually remember of the ``Cavalia'' performers who get paid in currency rather than oats is another matter. If a magnificent animal with a high, proud head and an endless mane gallops on stage, that's where the human gaze is going to fall. ``Cavalia'' artistic director Normand Latourelle - a Cirque du Soleil co-founder - clearly understands this. Latourelle once reportedly staged a pageant in Quebec, only to see his entire human cast upstaged by a single horse.

He seems to have learned a lesson. In ``Cavalia,'' when human performers are doing their work, the horses are either participating or absent. In the sequence titled ``The Ball,'' for example, Frederic Barrette balances and tumbles (not always with perfect grace opening night) on a large rolling sphere. As his sequence ends, a Lusitano buckskin stallion named Mandarin comes on stage to check Barrette out. At any given performance, I expect Mandarin's interest in the ball or ball rider may vary considerably.

The show's opening prologue is the ultimate test of viewer focus. A pair of horses gallop out onto a stage strategically decorated with horse toys and stuffed animals. As the live beasts check out their surroundings and conductor/keyboardist Sylvain Gagnon kicks the acoustical score into gear, the entire cast enters from the left, procession style. In the middle of the proceedings, projections give us lofty quotes about the majesty of horses. Bear in mind, this stage is 160 feet long from end to end. Horses, projections, elaborately costumed performers ... where do I look?

The opening is the most significant time ``Cavalia's'' performance, animal and technical elements seem to be almost competing for space on the same canvas. More often, director Erick Villeneuve keeps his elements separated or in balance. Through curtains, partitions and projections, he uses his enormous stage with great precision and imagination.

The horses really are the primary attractions - deservedly so. And the kind of ``performing'' we see them engage in is more free roaming play than gimmickry. There is some elegant formation riding and Roman riding, in which a human being stands with left leg on one horse, right leg on another. At other times, a horse will emerge, take a few laps around the stage, prance or rear and drop to his side to burrow his back into the ground like an enormous contented spaniel.

Indeed, they really are magnificent animals, whether tearing across the stage during the second act's trick-riding display or cavorting alone with each other or with a trainer. Performer Frederic Pignon - the show's trainer and equestrian co-director - may have been a stallion in a past life, so fluidly and playfully does he relate to them in the three ``Liberty'' sequences. I've got my doubts, however, about that extended equine kiss Pignon receives.

Pignon's fellow co-director Magali Delgado also seems to speak the horses' language. Delgado, and her sister Estelle have the evening's visual highlight with ``Pas de Deux (The Mirror).'' Riding atop white geldings Penultimo and Dao, the Delgado sisters face each other through a prism of rain. Their horses separate and converge in an ethereal kind of mirrored dance.

With this kind of stagecraft on display, who needs jugglers and clowns?

Evan Henerson, [phone]

evan.henerson(at)dailynews.com

CAVALIA - Three stars

Where: Under the White Big Top, corner of Colorado Street and Central Avenue, Glendale.

When: !8 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 1 p.m. Sunday; through May 9.

Tickets: $59 to $79. [phone] or www.cavalia.net.

In a nutshell: No real tricks here. A spectacle of equine grace and beauty with some performance finesse gilding the horsey lily.

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Photo:

Riders play a part in the spectacle, but ``Cavalia'' is all about the magnificent horses that gracefully navigate the show's big top.

Tom Mendoza/Staff Photographer