Burlesque gets international in Vancouver

Published on The Province blog, May 10, 2014

When I stepped into the Vogue Theatre last Saturday night, I wasn’t there to write about a show. For the first time in the three years I had attended this particular spectacle, I wanted to watch without pen dragging across paper. A multi-tasking distracter from the luscious sights before my eyes.

But when the music began at the 9^th annual Vancouver International Burlesque Festival (VIBF), I couldn’t help myself. Dance inspires words. And the writer in me moved my tiny moleskin from purse to lap. It’s just one compulsion burlesque can manifest – the urge to express, the desire to translate feelings into words.

It began with rock and roll. Which, to my recollection, is the beginning of all good things. Things that stick with you. Things that vibrate in your vertebrae. Presented by Kitty Nights’ Petal to the Metal, a three-piece band nailing guitar-laden covers to the shadowy walls, the first number to grease our ganders was Guns n’ Roses and Justine Sane, a green-streaked, punk princess. She was followed by Villainy Loveless, latex Queen, who dismantled her bustier down her backside to reveal a spider web of scanty underthings. Calamity Kate, reminiscent of Barbarella or a wench for the wiles of Jabba the Hutt, morphed into a leashed kitty cat. I don’t like cats. I would have adopted her..

Burgundy Brixx, a madame if there ever was one, made her presence known with Soundgarden’s Slaves and Bulldozers filling the background – a woman not to be messed with. A woman who removed her gloves with such purpose I wondered who would be lucky enough to receive a slap from the shiny, five-fingered articles. She would certainly leave a mark. The tempo switched to Marilyn Manson’s Beautiful People, and Lola Frost replaced Burgundy in a tutu fashioned from cold hard cash. She made it rain. And she contorted and crawled on the floor like the most hypnotic black and gold snake ever to slither. Between each thrashing number, the stage was cleared by hell’s demons – Rufio, a wild animal moving maniacally around the stage, and his master, Spooksy DeLune, mesmerizing legs halting just before heaven. It must be said, if this was hell, I’d like a ticket.

The next set was lighter – above the underworld, still within the realm of seduction. Comic Tyler James Nicol hosted this portion of the night – a dapper fellow with charming wit curling out of his trim beard. Ava Lure blinked bedroom eyes and slinked in champagne silk. A sexed-up Betty Draper in the flesh, who, bedecked in a nude merkin, sent a waterfall of sparkles down the luge of her spine. Violet Tendencies danced to an industrial beat right up on her ballet-clad tippy toes. Dollipop owned the saxophone, and then the flute, as she morphed from Grecian-gowned beauty to sequined sphinx. Axis D’evil hula-hooped to Beastie Boys’ Intergalactic, her pink mohawk offsetting the neon hoops that floated around her body and limbs. Lady Josephine played a dangerous swordswoman to a soundtrack of orchestral electronica, and sliced her bodice off with her weapon to intakes of audience breath.

But the grand finale of this middle set was truly a seat gripping, leg spreading masterpiece of dance and enticement by Ray Gunn, a male dancer from Chicago. He appeared in a white robe scrawled with words and moved as hauntingly as though he were created by Tim Burton’s pen. He was the Jabberwocky. Once his robe was dropped, he performed feats of acrobatics and showed off his muscled prowess. He had an animalistic rawness. He could have leapt into the audience at any moment. And we hoped he would. I hoped he would. When the lights went on, women stayed seated. Absorbing his magnetism that still lingered in the sparkly air. It was beautifully poetic and erotically charged.

The third and final set of the evening was hosted by Crystal Precious. Strip hop extraordinaire. “Step one, dance. Step two, funk.” She regaled us with rhymes, which you can now find on her newly released album or whilst sipping on a cocktail at The Keefer on a Thursday night. Flappers in crime, Rita Star and Lola Frost danced a duet of sweet affections as a Chaplin-esque fellow and his cheeky amour.

Nasty Canasta appeared with a baby (fake baby, don’t call social services yet) strapped to her chest – an unfit mother in hooker heels and with an insatiable taste for the drink. Her ass muscles twerked and twitched to the music in a manner that extended already dropped jaws. Luciterra contorted their lithe bodies in belly dance splendor. Shaking and wiggling in ways likely deemed impossible by the punters in the crowd.

You may not be aware of this, but math is naughty. Particularly nines. Those tail wagging, head bobbing fiends. Almost as devious as their tongue licking, big bottomed twins: sixes. This was proven by EmperROAR Fabulous as he revealed numbers painted on his body. Melody Mangler didn’t fool anyone with her Amish disguise, which was immediately removed to reveal a wicked red-haired witch. The pièce de résistance to the night was Perle Noire from New York, who moved through the decades of dance like a panther. Just when we thought her act was ending, it took another libidinous turn. And not once, but twice, she crashed down on the hard stage in a straight split. Legs spread wider than we would ever dare spread ours. She was sensational. I wanted to yell for an encore, but my tongue was stiff and enlarged in my mouth. Incapable of conversation.

You see, burlesque creates urges. It makes bodies change dimensions. It sends nerve endings into ecstasy. It fills heads with dangerously delicious thoughts. And it is alive in Vancouver.

Lessons from VIBF:

1. Burlesque dancers have the very best tickle trunks. Befriend one. Or two. You’ll never be bored.

2. Wear strategically-placed red suspenders attached to your trousers. And nothing underneath.

3. Truly scrumptious: Breasts that jiggle like Jello treats.

4. A synced tassel twirl is a thing of wonder. Right up there with the pitched pyramids.

5. Don’t hide your enamour. Lean forward. Drop your lips open. Don’t blink. Show your emotion.

Burlesque can be viewed on one of the following weekly nights:

Kitty Nights at The Biltmore on Sundays.

Sweet Soul Burlesque at The Keefer on Thursdays.

Risque Cabaret at Guilt & Co. on Tuesdays.

All images by Jess Desaulniers-Lea.

<