Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Ask The Experts: Alfred Bennett

--> “In 1868 a burlesque, The Merry Zingara, by W.S. Gilbert – a skit on The Bohemian – was produced at the Royalty with a bevy of attractive girls – there were pretty girls in every burlesque but they had to be clever ones as well, not merely manikins …

Burlesques were parodies on plays or stories, written in ten-syllable rhymed lines which, in harmony with the accepted wit of the day, abounded in puns and whimsicalities and were interspersed with songs, choruses and dances borrowed from opera, music-hall or other sources. The music was never original. The hero was always a girl, and there was often a female character depicted by a man, in which respects the wont and usage of pantomime were closely followed …

Incongruities were frequent in burlesque and puns were sometimes more than verbal. For instance, in Burnand’s Paris, Orion was got up as an Irishman with knee-breeches and shillelagh, spoke with a brogue and was called O’Ryan – “the only Irish constellation in the skies.” Topical allusions likewise abounded …

A few specimen lines will show at what our fathers deigned to laugh in their hours of ease. This excerpt from Paris was rendered funny by the makeup and delivery of the speaker, a man in female disguise:

            “Last night he smiles on me, my husband do,
            And says ‘I’m going out.’ Says I, ‘Where to?’
            Says he, which ain’t polite, ‘What’s that to you?’
            ‘Nothing to me,’ I says, ‘I only ask;
            Of course, if ‘ollow ‘arts will wear a mask,
            Then, as the poet says, the time will be
            When, hubby darling, you’ll remember me.’”

… A verse from a set called “What’s a burlesque?” contributed by W.S. Gilbert to one of the magazines, may perhaps fitly wind up this sketch of a by-gone amusement:

            “Pretty princess – beautiful dress:
            Exquisite eyes – wonderful size:
            Dear little dress (couldn’t be less)
            Story confused – frequently used:
            Sillified pun – clumsily done.
                        Dresses grotesque.
                        Girls statuesque.
                        Scene picturesque –
                        That’s a burlesque!” ”

--Alfred Rosling Bennett, London & Londoners In The 1850’s & 1860’s (1924)

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Ask The Experts: Dawn Powell

--> "For the first time it came home to her how comfortably she had counted on reputation to make up for minor personal disappointments. A crutch, a cushion, a veil, a safety net for all missteps, that knowledge of work recognized and admired whether she was old or young. Without it she felt vulnerable and exposed, a woman in her thirties whom no one knew, an everyday woman with no protection of love or fame, with no banner to bear but that of pleading mistress begging for a crumb. Left standing unnoticed for a moment it struck her how soft and spoiled she was, never venturing on any path that was not especially paved for her, innocently astonished that the paving could wear out and torches on dark corners would not be lit.” 

Dawn Powell, The Locusts Have No King (1948)

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Ask The Experts: George Peck

--> “Pa and I put in a good deal of time during the afternoon and evening performances in the dressing-room, near the door leading to the main tent. That is the nearest to being in an insane asylum of any place I was ever in. The performers get ready for their several acts in bunches or families, all in one spot, and they act serious and jaw each other, and each bunch acts as though their act was all there was to the show, and if it was cut out for any reason, the show would have to lay up for the season, when in fact each one is only a cog in the great wheel, and if one cog should slip, the wheel would turn just the same. These people never smile before they go in the ring, but just act as though too much depended on them to crack a smile. When a bunch is called to go in the ring, they all look at each other as though it was the parting of the ways, and they clasp hands and go out of the dressing-room as though walking on eggs. When they get in the ring they look around to see if all eyes are upon them, and bow to people who are looking at something going on in another ring, and who don’t see them, and then they go through their performance with everybody looking somewhere else.

When the act is over the audience seems glad, and clap their hands because they are polite, and it don’t cost anything to clap hands, and the performers turn some more flip flaps, and go running out to the dressing-room, and take a peek back into the big tent as though expecting an encore, but the audience has forgotten them and is looking for the next mess of performers, and the ones who have just been in go and lie down on straw and wonder if they can hit the treasurer for an advance on their salaries, so they can go to a beer garden and forget it all.

An average audience never gets its money’s worth unless some one is hurt doing some daring act.”

- George W. Peck, Peck’s Bad Boy With The Circus (1905)

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Striptease on Film: BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S (1961)

--> To think of Breakfast At Tiffany's brings many things to mind, from the problematic (Mickey Rooney’s infamous yellowface performance*) to the sublime (that ridiculously perfect Oscar-worthy Cat**). But even if you’ve seen the movie a couple dozen times because it’s your home-alone, laundry-folding, fuzzy-slippers-glass-of-wine-and-ovaries treat (just for instance), you might still forget this scene every time until it’s suddenly upon you: 



The dancer is one Beverly Powers, also known by the stage name Miss Beverly Hills, and she was a for-real, honest-to-goodness burlesque stripper. From Tom Lisanti’s Glamour Girls Of Sixties Hollywood (2008):

Beverly Jean Powers was born in Southern California [in 1937 or ‘39] and graduated from Van Nuys High School … She wed a Los Angeles tree surgeon at a young age. The brunette beauty with the tantalizing 37-24-34 figure then became a striptease artist using the name Miss Beverly Hills. Working mainly in Las Vegas, her act entailed dancing glamorously, dressed in showgirl-type gowns, and gradually removing her clothes until she is clad in a two-piece bikini; during the final minutes on stage, she doffs her top (she always had pasties on underneath). Becoming well-known, Powers was provocatively photographed for a number of men's magazines of the time including The Dude and Knights before giving acting a try.

Elsewhere it’s reported that Miss Beverly Hills had a stormy affair with mobster Mickey Cohen; that her husband Bill Powers was actually a hairdresser rather than a tree surgeon (a completely understandable mixup, really); and that, in December of 1959, “discovered by Chuck Landis, she takes the place of stripper Candy Barr as featured performer in Los Angeles’s Club Largo when Candy goes to prison.” There’s more out there on the interweb about her film and TV performances than her burlesque career - though she does seem to have been cast as a showgirl, burlesquer or stripper fairly often (Viva Las Vegas, Kisses For My President, Angel In My Pocket and an episode of Fantasy Island, to name a few). Apparently she retired from both stripping and acting in the early 1980’s and is now a minister in Maui.

I love this scene for a few reasons, beyond getting to see even a Hollywood-approved slice of this classic performance.

• First: That cape; that dress. (Though Audrey Hepburn was dressed by Hubert de Givenchy, Edith Head was the costume supervisor for the movie … unless that was one of Beverly’s own burlesque costumes?)

• Second: By 1961 the First Golden Age of Burlesque was beginning its transition into the modern strip club; and although who ever knows how accurate the Hollywood Version is of anything? I like to think this is at least something like how it was at the time. I’d like to think that if I were having a bad day (say, tearfully sending my Texas daddy-husband home on a Greyhound bus) I could grab my gay-in-the-novel best friend, slap on some devastatingly glamorous sunglasses, have Nellie Manley pile up my coif as if it were accidentally that fabulous, and head off to a wood-paneled Manhattan lounge to watch a burlesque queen strip to a live band while I get wittily drunk at four o’clock in the afternoon.

• Third: The dialogue in this scene (which doesn’t appear in the novel) (which you should read if you haven’t, it’s heartbreaking and beautiful in a different way to the film) did make me prickly at first. ***  How dare these characters even imply that there’s anything remotely superficial about what I do? It is deep - it is important!

Well, yes. And yet … this is a thing to write about at greater length at some other time (or if you catch me drunk enough backstage on the right night, I’ll slur your ear off about it whether you like it or not and just see if I don’t) but I have been reminding myself a lot of late that being serious about your art and your job doesn’t mean taking yourself too seriously; or, Those Who Work As Giant Stripping Sandwiches Shouldn’t Throw Stones. What I do is, on balance, amusing and superficial - and that’s okay (see: the four-hundred-squillion-dollar, all-pervasive industry that is Pop Music), it’s what makes the transcendent moments of deep importance when they do occur (and they do) all the more resonant for me.

Anyway. Next time you have a laundry-folding, fuzzy-slipper-wearing night off, open up a bottle of wine and dial up Breakfast At Tiffany’s on the interweb – and be sure, when you do, to drink a toast to Miss Beverly Hills.


* Blake Edwards, on the film’s 45th anniversary: “Looking back, I wish I had never done it...and I would give anything to be able to recast it, but it's there, and onward and upward.”

** Whose real name, it appears, was “Orangey .”

*** In case my video-of-the-TV-screen clip is somewhat inaudible, here it is:
Holly: Do you think she’s talented? Deeply and importantly talented?
Paul: No. Amusingly and superficially talented, yes. But deeply and importantly, no.
Holly: Gracious! … Do you think she’s handsomely paid?