This "Phantom" Should Stay Hidden

Behold, the three most terrifying words ever to strike musical theater! It's not "starring Kim Kardashian." It's "spectacular new production."

Certain musicals become revered classics for their ability to whisk you away to another world with their grandeur and opulence. That's how I felt when I saw "The Phantom Of The Opera," first on Broadway and each subsequent time in Denver. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the "old" production, and it was already quite spectacular, so why even bother making it "new"? Unlike some musicals, this one holds up pretty well, even 30 years after its 1986 premiere. As it stands, the current touring version of "Phantom" is a ghastly imitation of everything that makes the original show such an effective piece of theater. Instead of being whisked away, I was painfully reminded that I was still trapped in my seat.

Since the Phantom haunts an opera house, let's start there. Most (if not all) of the show's singing is incredibly operatic, and in this regard, the actors performed in a generally capable manner. Except for one, not-so-minor thing: their vocalizations needed to make the audience feel something about the characters' journeys. Opera without emotion is just loud, high notes being shrieked at no one in particular. Clearly, one must be able to hit those notes, but it's not just about technical precision. Without this emotive range, the actors ran the risk of being robotic and the show started to drag. Considering it's nearly three hours long, they better keep it moving!

The fast-paced farce of "Notes," typically a favorite song of mine, seemed much slower than its past iterations. Presumably to allow the actors to emphasize their words (and catch their breath), but problems with diction were rampant here as well as throughout the show. Composer Andrew Lloyd Webber is known for his dynamic use of counterpoint, but the song's brilliant effect was ruined by the poorly paced tempo and the muddled voices. I also strongly suspect that Christine, the object of the Phantom's obsession, pre-recorded her demanding solo that closes the titular song. Actress Kaitlyn Davis was unusually blocked at the side of the stage with her back to the audience for the majority of this scene, and when she did face forward for the big final note, her voice cracked quite obviously. All singers have bad nights, but this attempt at subterfuge seemed awkward and forced. Why not just use an understudy instead of jarring anyone with eyes and ears right out of this signature moment?

Even the typically magnificent set pieces left something to be desired. A large, central column rotated between scenes and unfurled in segments, making efficient use of the space. Unlike previous configurations, though, it didn't convincingly portray the splendor or distance of the various locations. More often than not, the stage seemed too sparse for a production of this magnitude. In particular, the rooftop near the end of the first act and the cemetery late in the second act were barely more than glorified props and backdrops.

All of these slights pale in comparison to the flat-out boring treatment of the show's infamous chandelier. It's always been the case that after the auction that opens the musical, the chandelier is uncovered and illuminated, rising majestically during the overture from the stage to its new home above the audience. In this production, it's already positioned above the crowd, and for its instrumental cue, it rises no more than 10 feet. The disappointment continues when its climactic drop at the end of Act One no longer sends the chandelier crashing toward the stage. Instead, it just flickers and shakes and drops those 10 measly feet. Redemption is impossible when an iconic moment in stage history gets reduced to a terrible and ultimately pointless special effect.

The hits (or should I say misses) keep on coming in "Masquerade," the formerly impeccable ensemble number that opens Act Two. Traditionally staged on a grand staircase, this time around finds the players in a gilded, mirrored hallway. It certainly fits the period for turn-of-the-century Paris, but it doesn't fit the scope of an allegedly large-scale production to have everyone placed on the same level. Staggering the action on different steps added unpredictability to an already intricate scene. Most insulting is the Phantom's entrance into this celebration, which is another dreadful anticlimax to say the least. Originally, his sudden appearance right in the middle of the fray is startling, and his chilling descent on the staircase set to each downbeat of the music is perfectly ominous. In this staging -- oh, how I wish I were making this up -- he literally walks in the back door. No unsettling fanfare as he approaches; he just strolls into the room, completely lacking in surprise as well as originality.

Which brings me to the Phantom himself. As discussed earlier, actor Chris Mann is a suitable singer. Regrettably, he brought little depth to the character, playing him utterly devoid of even the remotest sense of menace or foreboding. In the throes of such a hollow portrayal, the Phantom's wounded thirst for power and unrequited desire for Christine fail to elicit any sympathy; rather, he comes across as nothing more than a spoiled brat perpetually on the verge of a tantrum for not getting his way. While the show may be larger than life, it does leave room for subtlety and nuance, but Mann found neither.

The production itself doesn't seem to tolerate any mystery surrounding the Phantom's presence either. While I did appreciate a brief glimpse of him hiding in the shadows during the opening auction, we actually see him strangle the lead stagehand later in the show. The victim's sudden appearance during a ballet used to be shocking and arguably could have been an accident, as the managers desperately claim. And don't even get me started on the digital projections of the Phantom's shadow. It looks much creepier to have the natural distortions of angled light spread across the stage than having blatantly phony swirls of his cape. Worse still, the timing was off for the pyrotechnics that the Phantom uses to taunt the characters, making them less indicative of his possible supernatural abilities and more of an unintended punchline.

But no detail was more offensive to theatrical purists like myself than the Phantom's cloak... which had sparkling lapels. I repeat: The Phantom Of The Opera SPARKLED. I'm on my best behavior during performances of any kind, but I'm pretty sure an audible "What the hell is THAT?" escaped my mouth. Last I checked, this wasn't "Twilight: The Musical." The Phantom is supposed to be a sinister yet elusive figure who's so in touch with darkness that he sings no less than four times about embracing the music of the night. Theater is meant to start conversations, but no one should ever be put in the unenviable position of defending or refuting the merits of giving the Phantom more flair.

My questions about who thought any of these changes would make the show "new" and/or "spectacular" will continue to linger. To be blunt, I may never see this musical again, just so I can preserve its former glory in my mind. I didn't even get to the part where Christine non-verbally considers jumping off the roof at the end of the first act -- of course, because her death would have fixed everything and NOT sent the Phantom into a blinding, apocalyptic rage. Or the finale, where I couldn't fathom why the mob now reaches his lair in time to witness what used to be a clever, solitary disappearance. This disruption of illusion is an apt metaphor for the revisions that plague the entire production: stage magic only works when it's stealthy and seamless.

In all fairness, perhaps these changes -- which did nothing to add to or improve the show -- can be boiled down to simple budgetary decisions? I honestly don't see how that's possible. "Phantom" is still a top-grossing attraction, a testament to its staying power among audiences. People who attended this tour for the first time likely didn't notice that anything was wrong, but returning guests couldn't have missed it. All I can say is that if this version had been my first experience with "The Phantom Of The Opera," then I wouldn't have left the venue with any respect for the legacy of this influential musical.

King Is The Queen In Average "Beautiful"

One Broadway trend that won't see a curtain call any time soon is shows that are based on true stories. Truth may be stranger than fiction, but on stage -- from "Jersey Boys" and "Motown" to "Million Dollar Quartet" and beyond -- they each tend to play out in the same formulaic way. Whether a biographical musical takes a singular discography or a jukebox approach that incorporates other songs from the same period, they all share the same damning trait. The shows are treated as little more than bland vehicles to carry these signature tunes together from point A to point B, and those vehicles don't always get the maintenance they need to really deliver.

Despite my optimistic expectations, "Beautiful: The Carole King Musical" is in dire need of a tune-up. The production does have a few memorable aspects that live up to its title, notably lead actress Sarah Bockel, who evokes just enough of King's vocal style to pass muster but still makes the sound and the role her own. At the same time, the script has the warmth, wisdom, and wit to be less cloying and obvious than most true-life tales, which keeps the needlessly cluttered story moving. Unfortunately, for a project that names itself after King's work, it takes a frustratingly long time to let her -- and the show as a whole -- find a true voice.

At first, the musical does serve as an effective personal biography, showcasing King's humble Brooklyn beginnings and the cultural context of her arrival on the scene. A spectacular medley of early-'60s hits welcomes her to the Times Square record label where she sells her first song and continues to collaborate over the years. More than anything else, the show reinforces the sheer amount of dues that King has paid in the biz. By seeing her write and arrange countless hits for others (starting at only 16 years old!) and later contend with a rocky marriage -- all before she even gets around to her 1971 Grammy-winning breakthrough album "Tapestry" -- we can appreciate a long-lasting career that was built on her pure talent and charisma rather than empty notoriety.

Throughout the show, the inclusion of songs that King wrote for others, like "Some Kind Of Wonderful" and "The Locomotion," feels like a sensible reflection of her identity and legacy. The pointed juxtaposition between the professional triumph and the personal despair behind a chipper ditty like "One Fine Day" was particularly inspired. Meanwhile, the remainder of the musical stakes its legitimacy on shamelessly bankable nostalgia. By taking too many detours into the lives and creative output of King's friends and rival composers, Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann, the show tries too hard to be too many things to too many people.

Though timelessly popular Weil & Mann singles like "On Broadway" and "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling" are important to the industry both then and now and are certainly worth mentioning in the dialogue, they don't exactly require full performances in what's supposed to be King's story. "Beautiful" commits its biggest offense by waiting until halfway through the second act to really start emphasizing what should have been at the forefront all along: the bigger-picture influence and confidence of her musical prowess. By that point, even King is already saying "It's too late, baby."

My primary concern with this musical is that too many inferior elements conspire to pull focus from the heart and soul of the production: Carole herself. "Beautiful" would be anything but without the evolution of her work and the embrace of her life as a "natural woman."

Extra, Extra! Read All About It

Musicals based on movies can be good or bad compared to their sources. Musicals based on Disney movies are often just unnecessary. They adjust the plot and characters, add songs, and stretch the story too thin. While their spectacle is fun to watch, Disney shows coast by on brand recognition and nostalgia rather than a worthy adaptation.

"Newsies," based on Disney's 1992 movie-musical, rises above its contemporaries as a family show doesn't pander to The Mouse Empire's sanitized standards. Recreating historic New York and the 1899 newsboy strike grounds the production, so disbelief isn't suspended like it is when staging worlds of cartoon fantasy. Naturally, minor plot contrivances are made to ease its translation to the stage, but thankfully nothing like the misguided dimming of Mrs. Banks' fiery feminism in "Mary Poppins." Though the cast needed better dialect coaching, I'm impressed that they kept the film's mild swearing (common and in-character for teenage boys). It helps immeasurably that Broadway legend Harvey Fierstein adapted the script. The dialogue is witty but kid-friendly, and there are great zingers and profound modern parallels to cherish.

The real reasons to enjoy "Newsies," however, are its toe-tapping music and top-notch dancing. A deserving winner of Tony awards for Score and Choreography, the show hums with a kinetic energy that's absent from many current musicals. The lyrics aren't particularly memorable on their own, but they're bolstered by catchy, uptempo music from stage and screen veteran Alan Menken. Further elevating the production are acrobatic dance moves that exuberantly showcase its youthful characters without showing off. The audience gets a feast for their ears and their eyes.

My cynical side predicts that Disney won't rest until every last one of their movies has a musical counterpart. Meanwhile, my optimistic side hopes that future productions wind up closer to the sincerity of this one than the safety of the rest.

How To Get Away With "Love & Murder"

Every once in a while, a rare musical comes along that offers the perfect blend of theatrical sensibilities. "A Gentleman's Guide To Love & Murder" is the best of both worlds: a rollicking, old-fashioned spectacle full of great singing and period costumes as well as a subversive commentary on upward mobility full of macabre humor and scenic sleight of hand. While homages to other Victorian-esque works are plentiful and the wordplay is inspired, a few of the establishing numbers do err on the side of being too sing-songy.

By the time the aspiring, disavowed Monty sets his plan into motion to acquire his rightful inheritance and social status, the score becomes more rich and dynamic -- almost a reflection of his fractured, spiraling sense of duty versus morality. The real standout, though, is actor John Rapson, who plays every member of the wealthy and targeted D'Ysquith family through a series of quick-changes. His deft characterizations clearly delineate each person's voice and mannerisms, stealing an already memorable show right out from under its other capable leads. Ultimately, it would be impolite to call the show perfect, so let's settle for A Well-Crafted Guide To Fun & Farce.

A Musical "Story" Better Left Untold

"A Christmas Story" is a revered modern classic, but turning it into a musical loses a lot of its magic -- especially when the adaptation runs nearly an hour longer than its source. The memorable narration and dialogue are mostly intact, but the largely forgettable musical numbers only work when they're extensions of little Ralphie's vivid imagination.

Amusing touches involving live dogs and leg-lamp choreography are worthy chuckles, but the show makes a cardinal mistake in its treatment of Ralphie's parents, depicting Dad as a buffoon and Mom as a doormat. The film was smart enough to make them a study in contrasts: a gruff father whose acquisition of that famous lamp made his obsessive descent that much funnier, and a soft-spoken mother who was actually the voice of reason and laid down the law to hold the family together. While you can't reasonably expect a carbon copy of the movie, at least you can hope for something that knows when to say when.

"If" There's A Better Musical, "Then" I Haven't Seen It

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a career-minded young woman makes a split-second, seemingly innocuous decision that ends up creating two very divergent possibilities for her future. If you're thinking about the 1998 Gwyneth Paltrow film "Sliding Doors," you're on the right track... but I'm actually describing the 2014 Idina Menzel musical "If/Then," which launched its national tour in Denver last month.

On the surface, it's easy to see the parallels between the two. You could swap the setting of London and making or missing the subway in "Sliding Doors" with New York and deciding which circle of friends to spend the day with in "If/Then." However, it's a disservice to both of these works to characterize them based solely on the similarities of their premise. While the former offers whimsy and romantic comedy, the latter is deeply rooted in emotional honesty -- something missing from many of today's big Broadway productions. "If/Then" is everything that a stage show should be and the best of both worlds: the joy and bombast of a musical with the resonance and maturity of a play. The show doesn't shy away from controversial, hot-button elements like homosexuality and abortion, yet it doesn't treat them with tokenism; they are ingrained aspects of the story rather than gimmicks to grab attention. "If/Then" isn't afraid to ask the big questions about life's volleys between fate and coincidence, but it satisfyingly settles for not having all of the answers.

Part of why I'm so impressed with this particular show is that its creators' previous stage project, "Next To Normal," was a highly lauded affair that never sat well with me. Despite multiple Tony award wins and even a Pulitzer Prize, I never felt its acclaim was worthy of the uneven production that was presented. Yes, the show was groundbreaking in its depiction of the main character's bipolar disorder -- such heavy subject matter isn't traditionally fodder for a Broadway musical -- but to me, the show itself was atonal, discordant, and unsettling. It's what would happen if someone took a promising art-house film and shoehorned a bunch of unremarkable, rock-inflected songs into it.

"If/Then," meanwhile, is the polar (pun intended?) opposite of its predecessor. The show has a palpable energy and spirit; it's not just going through the motions of a pretty but empty production. Its goal is to impact the lives of its audience members, even in the smallest ways, through story and song. Even more notable is how difficult it can be to find a truly original production these days that isn't a revival or a direct adaptation from another medium. The music propels the story forward courtesy of its forthright, unfiltered lyrics, while the book sounds like how people actually talk (profanity and all) without being too stagy. Perhaps most importantly, "If/Then" avoids the missteps of several modern shows by rebuking the pandering trend of jukebox musicals, which often fall into the trap of being little more than greatest-hits albums with dialogue. It manages to succeed on its own merits rather than accumulating the bulk of its running time from someone else's material.

In a rare move that prevents "If/Then" from becoming anyone else's too quickly, Denver's launch of the show's tour featured all of its original leads. Naturally, the major draw is Menzel -- after all, the show was written specifically for her. It's hard to imagine anyone other than her in the role of Elizabeth since the script and the songs are so tailored to the mannerisms of both her speaking voice and her singing voice. As the plots separate, she goes by Liz in one storyline and Beth in the other (a helpful device to keep the audience on-track during some of the quicker scene-changes). However, it's not just the Liz & Beth show. She is joined by three other established Broadway stars -- James Snyder, Anthony Rapp (of "Rent" fame), and LaChanze, a Tony-winner for "The Color Purple" -- as her love interest, an old friend, and a new friend, respectively. All four of these dynamic performers have created incredibly well-rounded characters who don't always say or do what you think they will. The momentum is further driven by sharp dialogue full of realistic observations (ex. "We both know love doesn't make us perfect. It just makes us want to be.") and an ingenious level of pacing that seamlessly transitions back and forth between the storylines.

Through Elizabeth's career path as a city planner, New York itself becomes a character as well. The parallels between building space and building a new life are cleverly interwoven without ever being heavy-handed or ham-fisted. For a musical with such big ambitions and production values, "If/Then" feels unusually small and focused -- a tremendous compliment given that the show's message remains intact despite everything else that transpires on the stage. Ironically, none of these songs could really stand on their own or hold up as breakaway hits like certain Broadway standards have done over the years. Because all of the songs tell important parts of a larger story, it seems counterproductive to expect them to succeed independently from the show. Case in point: when Menzel performed at Red Rocks this summer, she sang "Always Starting Over," her big solo number from the second act of "If/Then." As well as she did with the song in a concert setting, there was something infinitely more enriching about seeing what led up to that moment in the show as well as what followed, rather than seeing it out of context.

Make no mistake: all of the songs in "If/Then" are beautifully arranged and are impeccably rendered by each of the actors. From the humorous and insightful "What The Fuck?" to the spiraling, dialectic tension of the push-pull "I Hate You" (which perfectly encapsulates the warring emotions of a couple facing a turning point), the show hits the bullseye on all of its comedic and dramatic targets. Menzel is often defined by her larger-than-life voice, but there are so many intimate, poignant moments here that allow her to shine. She knows that it takes more than just sounding good; the audience has to feel what you're singing about. My eyes welled up with tears as she slowly spun a single lyric (no spoilers!) into the past tense, instantly breaking hearts and causing gasps and sniffles across the stunned audience. She along with her fellow cast members went for every beat with gusto without ever overdoing it or overpowering the critical moments. Rapp in particular has come a long way from his plaintively emo days in "Rent" and turned in a rich vocal effort from start to finish. Needless to say, I haven't been this deeply affected by a musical in a LONG time! If you can't attend one of its performances in New York or while it continues to tour, you owe it to yourself to at least listen to the original cast recording as a viable substitute.

Though the award recognition -- Tony and Drama Desk nominations for the score and for Menzel but no wins -- was disproportionate to the show's caliber, "If/Then" can take solace in the immeasurable way that it touches its viewers. No amount of awards can replace that kind of genuine connection. The show's recurring themes and metaphors about navigating the unknown and the unexpected in life reinforce the lasting surprise that such significance can still be realized on today's increasingly busy stage.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like "Matilda"?

I can't bring myself to sugarcoat it: Roald Dahl is rolling in his grave. "Matilda," a musical based on his beloved book with a touring production that recently played Denver's Buell Theater, has plenty of aspirations but falls short on nearly every count. The musical kicked off the Denver Center's Broadway attraction season, so fingers crossed that the remaining selections are all uphill from here.

In case you aren't familiar with the story, "Matilda" is a comedic fantasy that follows its titular character, a young girl with remarkable intelligence and growing mental powers. After identifying a kindred spirit in the sweetness of her teacher, Miss Honey, Matilda finds clever ways to contend with her mean-spirited family and the bullying headmistress, Agatha Trunchbull. All of this is told with a strength and self-reliance that's unusual for a book aimed at children (and one of my favorites growing up). Dahl protects Matilda from feeling sorry for herself and instead empowers her to stand up for herself and for others.

How could something directly inspired by Dahl's vivid, one-of-a-kind imagination possibly go so far off the rails? Easily: by trying to appeal to everyone, the musical ends up appealing to no one. The 1996 film version of "Matilda" (directed by Danny Devito, of all people) made changes to the book but still managed to capture the lively, snarky spirit of its pages. In its translation to the stage, the show loses all of the sophisticated charm that the book so lovingly grants its precocious heroine and her misadventures. The wildly uneven tone of the musical zigs and zags from forced, phony slapstick to needlessly bleak to syrupy sentiment and even to out-of-place bodily humor in such a breakneck, bipolar way from scene to scene that it's ultimately not suitable for children or adults. Which begs the question, "How did it legitimately earn THAT many Tony nominations?" Thirteen of them. 13! I'm hardly superstitious, but I'm reconsidering my stance on the ominous significance of that number...

My first of many disappointments with the show happened within seconds of the curtain rising. As with any show prominently featuring child actors (who don't have the benefit of years of stage training and vocal coaching that older peers do), two important distinctions need to be made. First, especially when accents are involved, diction is beyond critical -- it's a make-or-break situation. From the first lines of the show, I had considerable trouble discerning what the children were saying and singing, especially Matilda herself. Sure, all actors slip up and blur their pronunciations from time to time, but this literally happened throughout the entire show. This is problematic if for no other reason than these children are responsible for practically the whole plot. The second distinction that went unchecked was the vast difference between energetic, youthful exuberance and just being shrill. To make matters worse, the second problem only exacerbated the first, rendering the majority of the show unwatchable and unenjoyable.

The adult actors didn't fare much better. Many of them (notably Matilda's neglectful parents) were saddled with throwaway musical numbers that are flashy enough to show off their song-and-dance moves but do little to further the story or their characters. Yes, they're horrible people -- we get it! We don't need whole songs that revel in their cruelty and their vapidity. A further source of adult embarrassment was the ineptitude of the stage crew, who I would hope are seasoned professionals. In this modern age of theater and advanced illusory techniques, they were unable to seamlessly and convincingly deploy the special effect of Trunchbull swinging a child by her pigtails, only to have her land safely in the arms of her fellow students. For an allegedly Broadway-caliber production, it looked entirely too fake to find the act of her being thrown even mildly amusing.

There is the faintest of lights, however, at the end of this collapsed tunnel of a show. The music and lyrics were composed and written by Tim Minchin, a noted musical comedian with an international following. Minchin provides strikingly unique orchestrations and wordplay for the show, perfectly capturing Dahl's dual vision of whimsy and angst even when the show fails to do so. As much as I like Minchin and his work, though, they deserve a much better vehicle to be presented to the public. Thankfully, there are some solid lighting effects and set design, which admittedly do warrant the aforementioned award nominations and eventual wins in the technical categories. In fact, a single memorable sequence choreographed the interplay of music, lyrics, lights, and set for a rather dazzling result.

As Matilda reports for her first day of school, the older students warn her and the other incoming youngsters to be on their best behavior or else incur the wrath of Trunchbull. Near the end of this number -- aptly if blandly titled "School Song" -- the older students scale the main gate of the academy, staggering into the ironwork blocks of various sizes for each letter of the alphabet (a recurring motif in the set pieces). With rapid-fire precision, the blocks are simultaneously placed by students and illuminated by spotlights right as a corresponding lyric containing that letter is sung. The calculated timing of this scene is one of two elements of the show that truly must be seen to be believed.

Ironically, Trunchbull becomes the very linchpin that holds the show together... if you can get past giggling at the vocal intonations that land somewhere among Alan Rickman, Riff Raff from "Rocky Horror," and skit sensation Old Gregg. It's an assured and confident performance of a patently unlikeable character that manages to flesh out the character without compromising her lack of redeeming qualities. The fact that actor Bryce Ryness -- that's right, Trunchbull is played firmly tongue-in-cheek by a man -- relishes every disdainful glance, menacing stride, and verbal onslaught makes the joy of beholding such nastiness more lasting than you'd expect. As well as the role is played, it's severely symptomatic of larger issues with the show if the central villain that we're meant to despise is the only thing the audience can safely embrace.

If you need any further evidence as to how the production squandered its potential, think about this for a moment: the musical was developed with and originally staged by the prestigious, world-renowned Royal Shakespeare Company. How can a show with such a pedigreed background end up failing so miserably? Artistically, that is. Critically and commercially, the show has apparently been quite a success. Perhaps we'll never know what might have been if the producers had hewed closer to Dahl's version of the tale. Putting his name above the title almost seems misleading given the departures from his work. Fortunately, we can cherish the certainty locked within that old adage, rarely more true in recent memory than when considering "Matilda" as a musical: the book is always better.

Burlesque Festival Heats Up Colorado

For a good time, call the Colorado Burlesque Festival. If you're looking for an authentic tease, the Cher and Christina Aguilera movie version is harmless fun, but there's nothing quite like the real thing when it's live on stage in a crowded theater.

2015 marked the sixth festival in Colorado, but national burlesque festivals and conventions have been around since 1991, with the Hall of Fame located in Las Vegas. In fact, burlesque as we know it can trace its roots as far back as 150 years ago with the can-can girls who danced in the saloons of the Wild West. And the best part? You don't have to be intimidated by how skinny they are! Burlesque dancers do stay in shape, but they actually have healthy weights that make them look like real people, rather than the skeletal remains gliding across the stage in other mediums.

Don't get it twisted: burlesque is not to be confused with stripping. The performers in burlesque and boylesque (yep, that's really a thing... I should know!) do remove clothing in a provocative way, but it's more about the art of the tease. In a way, each act is like a mini-musical. There are costumes, props, and sometimes set pieces, and the dancers interact with the music by essentially telling a story with their movements and their bodies... all leading to a big finish, of course. The tone of these acts can range from the simple and the silly to the smoldering and the sultry. Burlesque will show just enough skin to keep it from being family-friendly, but there's no actual nudity -- just a celebration of the human body in all shapes, sizes, and colors. For that reason, my friends who perform often tell people how liberating and empowering burlesque can be, and I wholeheartedly agree.

I learned a lot about the burlesque industry from my two years as an emcee for local variety shows. I've seen a little bit of everything, and so many of those visuals are indelibly printed on my memory: a routine set to The Doors' "Alabama Song" while dressed as V from "V For Vendetta"; a synchronized duo performing the cats' "We Are Siamese" song from "Lady and the Tramp"; and even a performer undressing while riding a unicycle. Despite my background, this year was only my second time attending a CBF function, but it more than made up for lost time.

The festival itself takes place over three days, offering workshops and events with regionally and nationally-recognized titleholders and award-winners in the burlesque community. The signature event, however, is the Saturday Night Spectacular. Held at the Paramount Theater with an audience of more than 1,000 fans and enthusiasts, this showcase features a wide selection of the many performance styles that fall under the burlesque umbrella. Host Naughty Pierre from Lannie's Clocktower Cabaret -- a sponsor of the event and home to many of Denver's best-known performers -- said from the stage that over 200 acts apply to appear as headliners, and only about 20 of them are selected to take the main stage each year. All of them bring their unique interpretations of the genre, but there are always a few that stand out above the rest.

Best Song Choice

Denver's Kitty Crimson, arriving on stage in an elegant gown and cape, performed a routine set to the slow, throbbing electro-jam "Two Weeks" by FKA Twigs. The contrasts of the traditional burlesque wardrobe and movements with the ethereal vocals and pulsating beats of the modern music made her act fascinating as well as entertaining.

Best Costume

Vivienne Vavoom is credited with bringing the burlesque scene back to prominence in Colorado and the region, and she often performs in classic garb with feather fans for a more vaudevillian style. For her "Elephants On Parade" act, the costume perfectly served two purposes. The couture dress was sparkly, colorful, and nice to look at, but it was also an integral part of the routine (rather than simply being removed and discarded). Inside the matching arm-length glove, her hand became the elephant's trunk and creatively helped her out of the clothes.

Best Homage

Whiskey Darling, hailing from Colorado Springs, gave a performance inspired by the classic comedy "This Is Spinal Tap." Making her entrance shrouded in Druidic robes before revealing brighter attire underneath, she danced to the fictional band's hit song "Stonehenge." In keeping with one of the film's most amusing moments, a too-small replica of the monument was brought onstage; rather than getting upset, it was the perfect size to hold her prop cocktail glass.

Best Boylesque

There weren't many men appearing in the showcase, either solo or in group numbers, but Portland's Russell Bruner had larger-than-life stage presence. A former boylesque champion, he also works in a more vaudevillian vein, knowing exactly how to prove himself as a showman and a dancer before showing just how much fun he finds the act of undressing in front of that many people. Boylesque presents a unique challenge -- modeling a physical form that isn't as curvy or shapely as a woman -- but Bruner brought the right level of frisky, masculine energy to displaying his talents and his body.

Best Solo Act

Shelbelle Shamrock came all the way from Dallas and brought down the house with a sequined tracksuit and a breakdance routine set to Bel Biv Devoe's "Poison." She worked the crowd into a frenzy with flirty glances at the first few rows as well as a masterful blend of burlesque moves and acrobatic precision. This was one of the few acts that had the audience on their feet applauding and cheering at the end.

Best Group Act

The Clockettes, the resident troupe at Lannie's, danced to a medley of Janet Jackson songs ("Nasty," "If," and "Rhythm Nation") and nailed every step of the intricate group choreography. Their spin on the standard reveal of both pasties, instead exposing only the right one in tribute to Jackson's notorious Super Bowl "wardrobe malfunction," was especially clever.

Burlesque is a truly inclusive art form with something for everyone -- male or female, straight or gay -- to enjoy. Colorado's festival and its showcase challenge cultural perspectives on beauty and self-image by promoting the values of diversity and appreciation. Needless to say, I'm already looking forward to this time next year. Save the date!