Burlesque

I am admittedly a fan of all things burlesque, the booze, the jazzy cigar lounge atmosphere, corsets and tassels. It is the very reason I think pinstripe suites and fedoras are cool. I also have an extensive collection of photographs of nude to semi-nude Christina Aguilera. I also grew up with a mother who lover Cher, resulting in a slightly metro son who can sing along to almost all of her songs. You would be correct to assume that I was excited to see this move, I really was. Yet, like my last girlfriends pregnancy, some things fail to deliver.

Aside from one of the worst opening montages I have ever seen, that no amount of bellowing could save, they then present us with the single worse remix of Marilyn Manson’s ‘Beautiful People’, in the opening five minutes. It is so terrible, horrid, sickening and offensive to my metal-head blood, that on that fault alone I would condemn this movie to the fiery pits of sulphur and teletubies. But it makes so many more mistakes I think I should go on. The big song that Cher uses to make her entrance would have been almost as neck tingling as Rocky Balboa taking the ring again, until I realized the song was a plug for the club they were singing at. It felt like MTV advertising MTV, while you’re watching MTV. The music was, nice. The lyrics were, interesting. The dancing was, not sufficiently arousing. Yet to have songs be about the club which is the name of the sub-culture, also the name of the movie is just pushing it. The result is a de-glamorization of a great style, and all that is left is a genetic narrative that came out of the “everything-we-have-ever-seen-before” machine that got dolled up with an excuse to run around in skimpy negligée and dim red lights. Then with the schizophrenic cinematography that makes it almost impossible to enjoy the dancing. It is just one of the many layers to a disappointing cake. Such us the painfully misplaced music used for the overly used montages. To me, it’s a great pity, because, if you pay attention, there are a few moments of stunningly acted moments and really talented vocalists. But moments are not enough to make a whole movie. Throwing two big named singers was not going save it either, no matter how much they try and sneak the odd MTV friendly song amidst the line-up.

This movie suffers what I like to call Ghost Rider Syndrome. Everything was there for it to have been a really great movie, it just wasn’t. In situations like that I just don’t know who we are to blame for this. If you enjoyed Chicago and Moulin Rouge, this will disappoint you, but it might just entertain you while you make soup.

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