Glasgow Cabaret Festival 2009
I’ve always been suspicious of 'Variety'. It might be having lived through the 1980s, when it meant the Paul Daniels’ Show or Saturday night’s lazy BBC programming. It might be the veneer of respectability- how radical is any work going to be if its ambition is to appear in front of the Queen at the Royal Variety Show? Maybe it was just seeing Tommy Cooper die on stage, my own Jack Ruby/Lee Harvey Oswald moment, one quiet Sunday night. Most likely it is that blasphemous parody of Britain’s Got Talent, with its unholy trinity of judges, managing to blend light entertainment with reality television.
The Glasgow Cabaret Festival has set me right. A week of diverse performance, drunken late night conversations, some great work, some dull work, social dancing at Mama San’s and a general air of decadence and community. As long as I call it Burlesque or Cabaret, and not Variety, I don’t feel sullied.
Cabaret has its roots in 1930s’ Berlin, the grubby vaudeville of 1950s’ America, the aestheticism of Oscar Wilde and the groundswell of apolitical discontent that always emerges from economic anxiety. Some of the best performers have an awareness of this history, and consciously play it out: Dusty Limits references both German decadence and Wildean wit, Dirty Martini extracts dirty dollars from her body in a direct critique of American consumerism. Glasgow’s The Creative Martyrs, a duo in smart suits and Butoh-style face paint, advocate a non-party political agenda of subversion, proudly proclaiming that cabaret ought to stay far from the mainstream if it wants to retain its bite.
Regardless of individual acts, the Festival presented such diversity that it was possible to see the range of modern cabaret. From respectful recreations of fan-dances - given a melancholic spin by Beatrix von Bourbon - to happily grotesque singalongs, courtesy of Desmond O’Connor’s ukulele, the Festival covered multiple bases, seeking new audiences and genuinely offering something for everyone.
Personally, I love the rough-edged work where technique is second to artistry. In Cat Aclysmic’s burlesque and fire routines, social subservience and propriety are torn away to reveal darker, erotic truths: as with The Martyrs, she uses the medium to express ideas, evolving burlesque into a forceful art. But Lucille Burn’s re-inventions of classic, smouldering songs and Missy and Leyla’s game show evening hint at a confident cabaret that is ready to stretch its possibilities.
Although High Tease was not part of the Festival, its polished performers- some of whom returned later in the week- set the standard for high quality and finesse. With a dressed-up audience and the aristocracy of dance in attendance, High Tease offered a treat of class and bawdy humour, undercutting any pretension with some vibrant dance and cheeky jokes.
From this, The Festival reflected how wide and energetic cabaret has become. I still won’t be watching Britain’s Got Talent, and I almost pray that burlesque stays underground- at its best, it uses eroticism to provoke, where the mainstream uses it to titillate and make money. But it has taken away the nasty taste left behind by Variety on the television.