BURLESQUE never dares to be burlesque

When I first saw the coming attractions for Burlesque, and realized it was written and directed by a single filmmaker, Steve Antin, I thought to myself, it will either be really good or really bad. Well, I hate to say it, but the latter preconceived notion won. What should have been a joyous, campy and kinky occasion, comes together to be no more than a mainstream, made-for-MTV movie. Burlesque is a poor excuse for a musical; its only intent is to provide a glitzy showcase for Christina Aguilera, who can’t act nearly as well as she can sing. I initially thought Maria Carey couldn’t act, but it goes to show you—when a good director like Lee Daniels is behind a project, Carey busted out a truly natural and realistic portrayal as a social worker in Precious (2009). Perhaps down the road, Christina Aguilera will acquire a decent acting coach, or an acting coach altogether, to help deliver a performance worth investing in, or at least a decent delivery of dialogue. Those who’ve seen Cabaret (1972), or are very familiar with Bob Fosse’s weird and wonderful stage manners and meticulous choreography, will certainly notice how the director and choreographer of Burlesque literally lifted off the opening dance routine and surreal atmosphere of Cabaret; right from the circus-looking women with clichéd bowler hats, to the recognition of the band in the background, to the performers leeching together in a sexy, yet want-to-be risqué manner. Now, I’m all for influences from other films. I love it when a filmmaker rips-off a particular scene they absolutely adore and somehow reinvent it in their own material. Hence, lies the problem with Burlesque; the filmmaker forgot to reinvent the opening dance routine of Cabaret, and instead, created an updated, carbon-copy, which the director just wanted to see on celluloid—bowler hats and all. The story is your run-of-the-mill girl leaves small town in search for stardom in a big city. We see this numerous times, and by now, I’m sick of it. Christina Aguilera’s character is living in a dumpy motel room, looking for a job as a singer and dancer. She comes across a so-called “burlesque” nightclub on sunset strip in Los Angeles, owned by the headstrong Cher, and helped managed by Stanley Tucci. Unfortunately, a corporate mogul is trying to buyout the underground hangout, which doesn’t have any appeal, except to refer to great cinematic hotspots like the Kit-Kat Club in 1930s Germany in Cabaret. The inept love story and pointless plot is as predictable as a car driving through a tunnel on a one-way street; you know where it will come out. However, a predictable storyline is okay as long as the film has something else to offer, which it doesn’t, except for Christina Aguilera’s screen presence and popular voice. She’s talented, I’ll give her that, but if I wanted hear her music or watch her dance, I would’ve bought her latest album or turned on MTV, rather than pay a ticket for Burlesque. Earlier this week I heard a film critic refer to Burlesque as a fun, “campy” musical movie. Fun—it depends on your personal taste, but campy—it certainly was not. When I think of “campy,” I think of Mommie Dearest (1981), Evil Dead II (1987), Showgirls (1995), or Valley of the Dolls (1967). I’m not afraid to admit it, I’m a big fan of camp trash—it’s a genre all on its own, I think. Hell, I even think that Showgirls was a notch better than anything Burlesque had to offer. I mean, any studio that attempts to a produce a 50 million dollar exploitation movie like Showgirls, understands the humor that makes campy filmmaking worth indulging in. As far as I’m concerned, Burlesque is like a cheaply home-made dress that your mother insists you wear for prom night; it saves money and has all the right elements for the occasion, but once you show up, you really wish that you just bought the damn thing in a store. *1/2 (out of four stars)