If you go to Burlesque expecting a campy hoot on the order of Showgirls, you may be in for a disappointment. It's not quite awful enough, although it's plenty bad.
What Antin should take away from this experience is that it takes a lot more than a clichéd-filled story, some dancing, forgettable music, and a bland script to make an interesting and engaging musical.
"Get your ass up, show me how you burlesque," growls one of this indulgent movie's indulgent musical numbers that swaggers with pearls, glitter and red lipstick - if not grammatical verb usage.
Has the glitz and allure of a Victoria's Secret ad. What it doesn't have is an imaginative reinvention of the show-biz clichés that have so adamantly inspired it.
The alarmingly plastic surgery-ified Cher, with her face looking like a condom stretched over a beach umbrella, gives a performance here as the club owner that's not so much 'still' as 'immobile'.
