BURLESQUE is a heaping helping of corn pone laced with a glittering cascade of glitzy production numbers. Start with a fresh-faced Iowa farm girl, Ali (Christina Aguilera), take her to the bright lights and broken dreams of Hollywood, and in the time it takes to show the montage of her hitting the streets in search of her big break, have her find her dream. It eventually becomes obvious that writer/director Steven Antin isnt trying to make a believable film so much as hes preventing reality from intruding in any way, shape, or form into his cream puff of a flick. He doesnt quite pull it off, despite some smart pacing and clever tweaks. The result is by turns irritating and genuinely entertaining.
The irritation is how naïve but determined Ali finds herself rejected by more traditional dance gigs, and in the bosom, so to speak, of the Burlesque Lounge. Its a throwback to a simpler time when sexy wasnt about being explicit, but rather about being playful. The club owner, Tess (Cher), may have two mortgages, a looming balloon payment, and an ex-husband (Peter Gallagher) whos worried about those things, but she still stages lavish numbers featuring girls with quaint costumes bumping and grinding a la Fosse as they lip-synch their way into the shrinking audiences heart. Alis big mouth, and even bigger singing voice make her the star of the show in short order thanks to Tess seeing herself in the earnest upstart and a rivals plan backfiring. Ali finds true love in the person of the clubs bartender/piano player, Jack (Cam Gigandet), who takes her in, platonically and falls in love with her carnally. Meanwhile, Tess finds a nemesis in Jack (Eric Dane), the slick real-estate developer with a yen for whats under Alis costume, and for the land under Tess club.
The genuinely entertaining comes with the performances, on and off the club stage, which are the reason to see BURLESQUE. Certainly the hackneyed storyline doesnt hold up under much scrutiny. From tiny little details such as Alis inability to find a new frame for a beloved picture after the old one is broken, to the disconcertingly wholesome air backstage at the sexually charged establishment that makes the denizens thereof into a pack of unusually well-behaved Cub Scouts. Cher, as the glittery mother hen in charge, seems to be constitutionally unable to be anything less that completely authentic, no matter what. The same can be said for Stanly Tucci as her gay best friend and the clubs choreographer/costume designer. He delivers snark and sentiment with the same engagingly wry detachment. Kristen Bell as Nikki, Alis nemesis, dances her heart out and draws her mouth into a properly taut straight line to show her unhappiness when Ali effortlessly and innocently takes everything from her. As for Gigandet, Gallagher, and Dane, they are handsome, speak their lines one cue, and dont get in the way of the ladies. Aguilera, as the rising star is a credible actress, but when she starts belting out songs with a voice out of all proportion to her small frame with kewpie doll elan, or leather babe earthiness, she is fabulous and absolutely at her best in one number that finds her covered in pearls and seemingly nothing else but a sugary sweet smile and a knowing wink at the audience.
As for why more wasnt done with Alan Cumming beyond an extended cameo as the arch doorman and one all too abbreviated number that featured a suggestive banana is a mystery for the ages. That it is a sin of omission is not.
BURLESQUE looks great, sounds better, and is better left unsullied by anything like pondering. Take it for what it is, a shiny bauble with the shelf life of a snowflake.
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