“What did you think of the show?”
Well…
I think the most frustrating thing about shooting burlesque these days is that I can’t escape the feeling that I’m the only one in the crowd who isn’t moved to delighted applause by what’s happening on the stage. It’s not that I don’t want to hoot and holler (or that I’m incapable of it) but I’ve seen it before. If it’s a 101 recital, I may have seen a number very much like that one only two months ago. Or last week, as these things start piling up.
The “bored housewife” who discovers dirty books or her husband’s infidelity and starts stripping off? That’s so iconic it’s entered the realm of the terminally cliched for me. It can be done, and quite well (as it was at the last 101 recital actually), but it takes a lot to make it stand out.
The “sexy” librarian or secretary or stewardess or whatever? If you start out as sexy, there’s not a lot of room for change. I love a good surprise burlesque (what, you mean the cleaning woman is actually…?) but it’s stronger when I’m not shown from the very beginning that she has a thing for rhinestones and bling.
But the thing that’s really getting under my skin these days are acts that involve any kind of shock value. When the dildo comes out, I stop caring. When the boylesquer starts fiddling with his testicles like it’s some kind of flesh colored slinky, the crowd goes out of its mind. Me, I roll my eyes and wait for the curtain.
Burlesque is all about the journey, not the destination. It’s a game of curves and layers, fabric and skin that should leave the audience wondering what the performer is going to do next and how she’s going to pull it off. Literally. Fan dance? Comedy? Will there be props? What’s the story?
When the dildo comes out in the first minute, I already know how this is going to end — with a badly acted orgasm like an outtake from a bad porn film.
I like burlesque for the same reasons I don’t like porn: I don’t want to see everything. I want to see enough to deduce the rest on my own. The curves and sounds and forms are delightful but there are always those moments where we get an awkward anatomical Tab A -> Slot B shot that utterly kills my interest. That goes double for burlesque.
It can be done well. The Von Foxies had a series of acts that were essentially comedic sex “workshops” and Waxie Moon can turn the act of masturbation into a demonstration of dramatic tension. Then there’s Paula the Swedish Housewife’s “bear rug” number, which simply has to be seen to be believed.
But when the vibrator comes out, I check out and I count my blessings that the shock acts are few and far between for now.
