Steven Antin
Burlesque

Amid the made-in-USA productions, scattered between dystopian science fiction and slapstick comedies, there remains a desire to launch musical blockbusters and/or pseudo-musicals. A genre that in recent years has preferred to lean towards the recurring dance challenges of hip hop crews rather than the classic, genuine tradition of musicals.

Burlesque positions itself halfway between the nostalgic/melancholic desire of major studios to return to the glory of Moulin Rouge - drawing heavily from it - and the typical narrative (which has become the ultimate blueprint today) of the unfortunate boy/girl, the Dickensian hero fleeing monotony and rural provincial misery, determined to seek fortune in the big Cities, the Eden of Art, fame, and eternal success for anyone wishing to pass from the gloomy backstage to the glory of the stage. The feature film that marks Christina Aguilera's debut on the big screen and the co-participation of veteran Cher, is envisioned as a mix, quite kindly and reductively, of a series of intentionally juxtaposed and grouped themes: the orphan's misery in the vast prairies of the Midwest, the forced emigration toward more fruitful and alluring realities, the economic-financial difficulties in managing an underground venue, the extraordinary talent of the newcomer, love that blossoms, matures, explodes, and triumphs, the final resolution of all problems allowed by one or more living or artificial deus ex machina. Particularly intriguing is the metropolitan flourishing - poor/backward countryside dialectic, forging an almost anachronistic plot, decidedly retro, a sort of semi-nineteenth-century romanticized fairy tale modelled "Great Expectations" transposed into the globalized reality of the 21st century.

Attempting to condense the narrative scheme of Burlesque to the bare minimum, the story of Ali (Aguilera) is illustrated, an orphaned bartender from Iowa who lands in Los Angeles to build a life away from the abuses and oppressions of her homeland. By chance, she enters a burlesque club, and Ali instantly and desperately falls in love with this world, made of breathtaking choreography, spectacular costumes, and an abundance of vital energy. The girl thus befriends the bartender Jack, who agrees to host her at his home for an indefinite period, and, despite the uncertainties and protests of the straightforward owner Tess (Cher), she obtains a job as a waitress. Unfortunately, the club's coffers are empty, the threat of eviction is very close, and Tess, firmly opposing the multi-million dollar offers from the entrepreneur Marcus, has no time (or inclination) to accommodate Ali's requests regarding her entry into the dance troupe until the young woman unleashes her ultimate trump card, the golden voice. From that moment on, Ali embodies the perfect burlesque superstar and the quintessential sharp-tongued vamp, exposing Marcus's nefarious ambitions, crowning her love dream with Jack, and personally contributing to the elimination of debts and the grand relaunch of Tess & partners' hall-bar.

The logic of Burlesque adheres to the classic, naive, easy philosophy of "talent and steadfast determination that overcome every adversity": two elements that are almost sufficient to cross the boundaries of obscurity - fame, desolation - success, poverty - wealth. In contrast to a fairly weak and unremarkable plot is the section of choreography and vocal performances, undoubtedly the pinnacle of the entire feature film: the essence of Burlesque is filtered through a good number of pieces performed admirably by both protagonists, fully aware of their dual role as singers/actresses, a strategic duality they harmonize and synthesize with remarkable passion and professionalism.

A simple work, with no frills, a pleasant blockbuster for quiet and calm evenings in the company of spectators little attuned to robots, near-future catastrophes, and stadium-style slapstick.