Hollywood Tonight

Blu Review: BURLESQUE
12 – 119mins – 2010
Written by: Steve Antin
Directed by: Steve Antin
Starring: Cher, Christina Aguilera, Eric Dane, Cam Gigandet, Stanley Tucci, Kristen Bell, Alan Cumming, Peter Gallagher, Dianna Agron
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“She gave up her life to follow her dreams,
Left behind everything for the movie scene,
Nothing more she could want, she was determined to follow her plan,
She wanted Hollywood, she wanted it bad.”

Following up her disastrous Bionic LP (reviewed HERE), twenty-first century pop idol Christina Aguilera makes her impressively charismatic feature film debut in this predictable but spectacular musical riff on the age old cautionary tale of the American Dream, as outlined in my opening quote by a verse from the Michael Jackson track I nabbed the title from for this CR@Blog review.*

Too attractive and talented to be wasting away waitressing in an Iowa diner, confident Ali Rose (Aguilera) makes the bold decision to quit her job, pack her bags and head to the bright lights of Los Angeles in the hope of becoming a star.

Enticed into the “greatest view without windows”, resolute Ali all too swiftly bags herself a waitressing gig in downtown revue venue The Burlesque Lounge, owned by retired dancer Tess (Cher) but on the brink of being repossessed. It’s a popular (if niche) attraction, but all those sequins, shoes and corsets don’t come cheap.

In the blink of a mascara-lined eye, Ali’s hidden talents have been revealed and she’s promoted to the stage where she upsets tardy diva Nikki ( Bell ) but makes fans of everyone else – including barman-come-musician Jack (Gigandet) and loaded potential business savour Markus (Dane). It's really that easy, gals.

I realise that I’m making it sound like I have a mountain of issues with Steve Antin’s Burlesque, but that’s only because I’m fully aware that the well-worn plot is the epitome of Cabaret conformity and this rags to riches tale is all too laden with fortune and stripped of seediness or misery – but that just makes the fact that I thought it was fabulous all the more astounding. I’m not going to hide behind a fan of feathers and pretend that this vivid extravaganza didn’t entertain me; because it did.

Sean: “What’s Ali short for?”
Ali: “ Alice ”
Sean: “Well, Alice , welcome to Wonderland”

Nikki’s tantrums and jealous glares aside, everyone in the dance troupe and behind the scenes is far too nice, far too accepting and far too accommodating. You never feel any threat to Tess livelihood, Ali’s dreams or Jack’s relationship quandary because you know everything’s going to work out okay by curtains up. It’s not in the least bit realistic, granted, but then neither are the clichéd characters. However it is spirited and inspirational, and if the grandiose musical numbers don’t knock you out then you don’t have a pulse.


In a CR@B Shell: If I’m being frank this is a 3 star film – a conventional plot dressed up in fancily choreographed numbers – but I’m not Frank; I’m CR@B Howard, and I had a whale of a time with this glitzy, ritzy hurly burly show. That’s right, CR@B fans: Burlesque impressed.
aaaaa
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* I may as well take this opportunity to pimp my review of the King of Pop's 2010 posthumous release Michael (LINKAGE).

I Know You Got A Voice, Why You Don't Use It?

Album Review: “BIONIC” {DELUXE EDITION}
CHRISTINA AGUILERA
Sony Music Entertainment/RCA Records
Released: 7th June, 2010
www.christinaaguilera.com
www.rcarecords.com
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BI-ON-IC… having ordinary human powers increased by or as if by the aid of
such [artificial… electromechanical] devices

In her powerful, soaring singing voice, Christina Maria Aguilera already has a power beyond ordinary, so quite why, when creating her fourth studio album, her army of newly-appointed “trendy” producers/co-writers felt the need to diminish the impact of her tremendously talented timbre with layers of blips, bleeps, bangs and beats is beyond me. Don’t misunderstand me; I adore an electro vibe to my music – just not at the cost of what makes an artist unique. Darren Hayes found the perfect balance between tune and tone with the extraordinary epic This Delicate Thing We’ve Made (2007), alas, in the case of Bionic; these artificial electromechanical devices have certainly not increased Xtina’s human powers, rather reduced her to a personality-void robotic karaoke machine.

Throughout her chameleonic 11 year career, Xtina has never rested long on one particular musical (or fashion) style. Unsurprisingly, her latest incarnation is unlike anything she has done before, though not for the better. The antithesis of focused, personal and relatable zenith Stripped (2002), Bionic is a busy, opulent, distended mess of sex talk, swearwords, fashion tips, brags and taunts. In other words: it’s hollow guff which makes a lot of noise saying fuck all. Yep, I swore. If you want to listen to Bionic, you had better get used to it, because being foulmouthed is clearly the epitome of maturity... I’m not simply referring to fanbase-splitting first single “Not Myself Tonight” (which, surprisingly, I truly liked, S&M video aside), as this is the case on a number of the album’s uptempo beasts.

The biggest stars should be setting the trends as they expand their legacies, not following them; therefore it is disappointing that Bionic feels like a regression both musically and lyrically, as well as a succession to a style of ‘cool’ music so divergent from everything Xtina has done before. For a woman who is now a wife and mother to be acting like a vapid, hormonal chav with tourettes is frankly embarrassing. Don’t even get me started on the deplorable “Woohoo” (featuring Nicki Mina), which sees the diva boast about how much we want to taste her lady parts (!!) in the same taboo-teasing way as the Pussycat Doll’s “Beep”, but without a modicum of the charm.

Bionic's 18-track first disc also suffers from inexcusable imbalance: a wild and offensive slew of eight club bangers leave you gasping for a respite from the audible onslaught, before a run of four ballads (and two unnecessarily individually-tracked skits) grind the pace to a halt. The tempo is ramped up for a blistering and purportedly empowering trio of tosh to round out the pack, with album closer and competitor for worst song (it’s a close call), “Vanity”, leaving us with such cringe-worthy boasts as:

I’m not cocky
I just love myself… bitch
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who’s the flyest bitch of them all?
Never mind I am (that bitch is so fucking sexy)

While the slower and more passionate numbers recapture a hint of the spark which made the public fall in love with the former teen star (the Linda Perry penned “Lift Me Up” is stunning, if not quite as memorable as number one single “Beautiful”), they would have been better placed interspersing the repetitive and distasteful trash that proceeded them rather than grouped together like a separate entity of secondary importance. Of the faster tracks, “Prima Donna” is a standout, if only because it doesn’t allude to sex every couple of lines. Oh, and it includes an (uncredited) interpolation of The Jackson’s “Can You Feel It” which is a truly commanding classic.

Ironically, four of the five tracks on disc two of Bionic’s {DELUXE EDITION} are stronger than 90% of the tripe on the main album. “Monday Morning” grabbed me instantly with its “Billie Jean”-like bass line and funky charm, while “Birds of Prey” is haunting in the fashion of Madonna's "Frozen", and “Stronger Than Ever” is an inspiring, melodious tunes. Only madcap 2nd track “Bobblehead” failed to impress me, with Xtina channelling her inner-Stefani and integrating an irksome airhead impression to intentionally and ‘ironically’ have a dig at vacuous gold-diggers with such witticisms as:

Talky talky talky but you don’t say shit
Got a way with words you give me nothing bitch

High brow stuff, this. Alas, this is the overriding problem with Bionic; far too often Aguilera opts for cheap, juvenile thrills over genuine, relatable substance, giving the whole album an artificial and overproduced glaze as if the wife and mother is endeavouring to appear sexy, edgy, fashionable and down wit da kids. Regrettably, the 29 year-old diva comes off as inauthentic and desperate with an uneven hodge-podge of an album mired by an excess of second-rate pap. Whatever happened to the Genie in a Bottle?


CR@B Verdict: There are a smattering of gems in this bloated opus, unfortunately you have to wade through heaps of vulgar, tacky rot before you reach the riches, and I wouldn’t blame you for tiring of the charade long before that. Artificial and inauthentic; Bionic’s robotics left me cold.
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