MAGICAL, MYSTICAL WORLD LIVES UNDER CIRQUE'S TENT.

Byline: Evan Henerson Theater Critic

`VAREKAI,'' the latest fantastical offering by Canada's Cirque du Soleil, is not for the faint of neck.

Be prepared to frequently cast your gaze to the rafters of the blue and yellow Grand Chapiteau in the Staples Center parking lot. Performer after performer - creature after creature - vaults, flies, spins and soars in some demonstration of aerial acrobatics. And if the performer him/herself isn't airborne, often his props (a pingpong ball, a twirling ``water meteor'') are.

Don't concern yourself too much, however, about a strained neck. More likely, you'll emerge feeling the effects of a severely dropped jaw. With nary a beast on stage, Cirque du Soleil - too long absent - has returned to make the impossible seem routine.

Written and directed by performance artist Dominic Champagne, ``Varekai'' (the word means ``wherever'') ostensibly takes place in a mystical land located within a volcano. It's a world, designed by Stephane Roy, of tall climbing reeds, staircases and a lookout tower. An angelic young man (Anton Chelnokov) with enormous downy white wings drops - via slow-motion free fall - from the sky. The eager Varekai-ians sweep up this modern Icarus, take his wings and all but imprison him. (But not to worry: our boy Ic ends up wed to a Russian cane-balancing contortionist.)

There must be something about those heavens, since so many residents of Varekai are either looking up or figuring out some way to get airborne. Icarus puts in periodic appearances, but the story line falls away pretty quickly. Mostly we're watching brilliantly bizarre acts set to the wailing techno strains of Violaine Corradi's score.

And what acts they are! Even discounting a few too many dropped water meteors opening night, ``Varekai'' rarely fails to engage or amaze. When the performers are at rest, Eiko Ishioka's costumes are the stuff of whimsy and wonder. And when things start to move, well, hang on!

Man was not meant to juggle other human beings - to lay on his back with legs extended while twirling and flipping another person. The nine performers of the Icarian Games segment pull off feats, the perfection of which must have been extremely painful. The same holds true for several of ``Varekai's'' acts.

It takes a certain whimsicality of vision to create a sleek dance performed on crutches. Vladimir Ignatenkov, the soloist, is as graceful as any acrobat. Ditto, Chelnokov's Icarus who performs both in an airborne net and in a giant bicycle-controlled hamster wheel.

Not everything is ``ooh! ah!'' inducing. Their personas may be completely at odds with pretty much everything else on stage, but clowns Claudio Carneiro (of Brazil) and Mooky Cornish (Canada) are as essential to ``Varekai'' as any of the show's feats of dexterity. In the first act, a lounge-lizardy Carneiro and his slippery footed assistant Cornish attempt a magic act that concludes in a burst of weirdness worthy of Quentin Tarantino. After intermission, Carneiro goes to war with a contrary spotlight in the solo ``Clown 'Ne Me Quitte Pas.' '' Both routines are quite hysterical.

There are 14 countries represented in ``Varekai'' - from Spain to the republic of Georgia, from Ukraine to Mexico. That's Cirque du Soleil for you: supplier of a veritable United Nations of wonderment.

Evan Henerson, [phone]

evan.henerson(at)dailynews.com

VAREKAI - Three and one half stars

Where: Staples Center (Parking Lot No. 2).

When: 8 p.m. Tuesday and Wednesday; 4 and 8 p.m. Thursday, Friday and Saturday; 1 and 5 p.m. Sunday. Through Oct. 19. (No performance Oct. 7. 8 p.m. show only Oct. 16.)

Tickets: $42 to $80. Available at [phone] or www.cirquedusoleil.com.

In a nutshell: Do NOT try any of this at home.

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Twirling water meteors are among the props used by Cirque du Soleil performers in ``Varekai.''