Perhaps the show’s program says it best: ”Mystère is a celebration of life. From the genesis of the first life forms to the rise of human civilizations, the driving force has always been the vital spark of life, throbbing, struggling, reproducing, weaving through death and rebirth … ” Okay, so the program’s a bunch of poppycock. But this Cirque du Soleil troupe — equal parts Ringling Bros., Dr. Seuss, and Twyla Tharp — is a joy. The multicultural trapeze artists and acrobats are inspiring (especially two men who do precarious handstands on each other’s bodies). Add to that the haunting score and the surreal Technicolor costumes, and Mystère becomes a true artistic oasis in the desert — not a white tiger, aging star, or topless dancer in sight. (Treasure Island; 800-392-1999) A