It’s a Xerox of a Xerox of an Original. Steve Antin imitates Rob Marshall imitating Bob Fosse.

Cher plays… “Cher”. Stanley Tucci queens it up to great effect, The Magic Homosexual, really. Cam Gigandet plays The Boy. Kristen Bell is objectified as The Villain. And a series of cardboard cutouts posing as actors turn up, including Julianne Hough and Eric Dane, who previously managed to be boring even in a sex tape three-way. Peter Gallagher is wasted, but compared to the abusive (to the audience) non-use of Alan Cumming, he got off light.

And Christina Aguilera doesn’t so much act as glow… assisted mightily by the permanent gauze from Cher’s camera that the somehow infected every frame of the film. I am conscious of Ms Aquilera, but had no idea how many ways there were to photograph her hair and boobs until this film. Seriously. I expect there to be a website dedicated to the passion Steve Antin shows for his starlet’s bust and the many ways he features it in frame, from loosely hanging to practically strapped down. Is she an A-Cup or a C-Cup? I don’t know. But the framing constantly demands high torso attention. And her face is equally unpredictable in the angles from which it is shot. At one point, I thought she was a new character I couldn’t remember. Generally, a director and a DP figure out how they want to shoot an actress and strive for consistency. Here, Cher and Tucci are very consistent… and the novice seems to be shot from every angle known to man.

But back to the boobs…

Seriously… I would be fascinated by the behind-the scenes documentary on The Underwear of Burlesque. It manages to be the most exposed, least threatening display of flesh I have ever seen in a film. Even more fleshy than Showgirls, really, though none of the naughty bits ever turn up. Because of the way Antin shoots and cuts, it’s something like a PG-13 pornographic butcher shop… parts and parts and parts and parts, but the only real hint that anyone has used them successfully is a third act pregnancy. With shot after shot of beautiful body parts, I found myself wondering how these painted on outfits worked… were they comfortable… how were they lined? I don’t think that was the goal… their goal or mine. i just wanted to be able to stare at something sexy for more than 36 frames at a time. Even the central romantic relationship is so much tease and so little please that in the real world this character – who spends as much if not more time obsessing on himself as the girls in the bar and the girl in his home – he have either thrown her out or become a violent asshole.

Then the script manages to be so much more complicated than the 3 ideas that Mr Antin seems to have in his head for this film that it becomes either laughable or infuriating. The entire movie has a case of blue balls. Just get on with it!

And did I mention that the original songs are stunningly forgettable? For the first act of the film, the dancers lip sync covered standards. Why? Don’t know. But at least the songs are good. All of a sudden, when they start singing for themselves, they inexplicably start singing new material that is desperately trying to sound like standards. Was it budget? Was it ego? Was it the need for album cash flow? Don’t know. But a musical with songs you can’t remember… oy.

And yet…

I can’t say that Burlesque is a painful movie experience. It is a little sexy. It is a little funny. It is a little compelling. It isn’t any of these things to the degree that the films clearly intends. But in the end, it is a series of music videos. Not original ones. Not special ones. But the film asks so little of you and changes speeds so relentlessly that it’s hard to ever get serious about disliking it. It’s like a bag of Halloween candy. Kids are willing to eat it all even if the bag isn’t filled with their personal favorites. Coffee Nips? For a 7-year-old? Okay… there are some Sour Patch Kids just a grab away,

Don’t get me wrong. This movie is crap. But it’s the kind of crap that does actually get to BETBF (Bad Enough To Be Fun).