Welcome to No Shame November! This week we're diving into the pop culture we love that society tells us we shouldn't.
Sick or sad, Burlesque has seen me through it all.
In 2010, writer-director Steven Antin debuted his glittering Cher/Christina Aguilera vehicle to the unprepared masses. A high-energy, low-stakes dramedy about a burlesque club facing financial trouble, the musical wasn't a hit with critics. Yes, some applauded the film’s ambition and commitment — spotlighting the immaculate performances of its dueling pop stars. But more harangued Burlesque for its overly simple scripting, virtually tensionless plot, and a general sense of smugness. It was called “epically contrived,” “hold-your-nose bad,” even “an affront to all things screenwriting.”
I first saw Burlesque at a Maryland shopping center with my mom over the Thanksgiving holiday. Exiting the theater to the stylings of Alan Cumming (whose Cabaret recognition was totally lost on me at the time), I don’t remember feeling strongly one way or the other. I’d been on a Christina kick thanks to the recent release of her album Bionic (2010), but the emotional fever pitch of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2 had left me with cinematic fatigue.
I know every line, every song, and every costume by heart.
Years later, I found myself laid out on the couch watching Burlesque again. Some channel was broadcasting it on a loop, meaning I could face the stomach flu I was battling without worrying about missing anything. I’d fall asleep to a dreamy shot of Christina gazing up from under her luscious blonde bangs and singing “I’m a Good Girl” straight to the camera. Then, sometime later I’d wake up to the credits rolling and wait for it to start again.
Communing with Burlesque in this way became a kind of ritual for me. First, I revisited it when I was sick with a cold, or maybe allergies. Then, I got the urge to cue it up when I got bad news or reached a low point in my battle with depression. By the time social distancing began in March 2020, this movie I’d initially only been lukewarm on was a staple in my comfort routine. I know every line, every song, and every costume by heart. During the height of lockdown, I even started working on my Cher impression (though it still needs polishing).
Sometimes I wonder why Burlesque works so well for me, particularly when I feel so bad. There’s the obvious underdog narrative, in which Aguilera’s character Ali effectively wills her dreams of stage stardom into existence. That arc comes with some remarkably theatrical displays of positive emotion, including Ali literally weeping for joy over her big debut.
But I think it’s more than just infectious optimism. There’s an ease and confidence to Burlesque’s serenely simple world that produces an almost hypnotically soothing effect. Sashaying from one faultless dance number to the next, each song placed perfectly in the emotional swell of Burlesque’s naively nice narrative, I feel safe.
For as much one might say Burlesque does not work for them, it’s hard to argue its elements don’t work together. Cher and Aguilera dominate the screen the way only legends can, and the rest of the cast hits their marks with unimpeachable precision. Whether it’s a chorus-line tableau or Stanley Tucci getting blasted with a confetti cannon, Burlesque hits every high note it reaches for. Even when one can see the film objectively stumble (e.g. the opening song introducing characters we never hear from again or the last-act impossibility that himbo love interest Jack wrote the finale number “Show Me How You Burlesque”) the glory of what Burlesque does well outshines any mistake.
I’m not the first to reconsider Burlesque and its calming, music video-like perfection. Though it maintains a 36% among critics on Rotten Tomatoes, audiences polled on the same platform gave it a 64%. What’s more, drag artists Farrah Moan and Chad Michaels, RuPaul’s Drag Race alums known for their Christina and Cher impressions respectively, helped make the movie a staple in lip-sync culture with a 2018 tour. That they love Burlesque gives me faith in my taste.
It’s an interesting thing to find yourself embedded with a cult classic in the making — especially if you didn’t anticipate yourself liking the project. But now, whenever Burlesque comes up (which is more than you’d think), I feel compelled to proclaim my love for it and all it does well. For more than a decade, Antin’s maligned marvel has been a trusted source of support whenever I need some sparkle in my life. Now, on its 11th anniversary, it’s just nice to be there for it, since it’s always been there for me.
Burlesque is streaming on AMC+ and IMDb TV (through Amazon Prime Video).
Topics Film
