Represent Review: Chippendales in Joburg
After spotting the dudes flexing muscles (see photo below) for a flustered Noleen and sms-laughing about them with a buddy watching in Cape Town – we decided that we had to find someone to go and check the Chippendales out at this year’s show at Carnival City. Fo Real. We called on TanTan who wrote the last review in April ’05 (read here) but she was busy… and then her fabulara sister AmorAmor stepped up to the…dancefloor (fight cheese with cheese). Sharpile Sista’s!
After hearing about the show on the radio ALL the time I must admit, I was very intrigued (and keen) when asked to write a review. All I can say is … the battle of the sexes is null and void.
Sitting in a cavernous arena at Carnival City, surrounded by a full representation of every conceivable type of South African woman, I found myself utterly overwhelmed by the sheer level of noise and palpable anticipation around me. And it was not wasted. These boys … I mean men, were everything you would expect and more. Perfectly chiselled bodies, charming smiles, witty repertoire and butts that make even the most decent woman want to cop a feel. The show was slick, the choreography was MTV standard, the music was a perfect mix of the hottest current hits and old favourites.
Yep, these guys definitely come from Vegas. The whole presentation made you want to go straight to Sin City and lose yourself in the perfection of illusion. Every woman in the room was flushed and blushing after the opening number. Reactions ranged from the under 25’s behind me screaming “marry me!” to the over 50’s in front trying to hide their smiles. Of course all age groups gave one unified gasp when someone’s mother got treated to a Bond seduction concluded by full reveal (to her, not us). Some gasping in empathy for the embarrassment the poor woman must have been in but I’m pretty sure there were some of us gasping because they wished it were them.
Surprisingly the most engaging and seductive number was also the one that saw the guys keeping their costumes on for the longest time. The Navy scene. In that one moment the universal equaliser had been released. Every woman in the room was totally enraptured by the site of these men in their sparkling white uniforms. A scene composed of no fancy dance movements but instead, coordinated marching, had everyone swooning.
After the initial thrill of seeing these gorgeous specimens of the masculine form dance like pros and strip to nothing FOR YOUR PLEASURE, your heart pumping and your voice hoarse with screaming, you realise that it is the perfect illusion. Despite the fact that the guys’ interaction with the audience was brilliant (though definitely not for the faint of heart), once you got close enough you a saw that thing in their eyes that no woman wants to see in the middle of a fantasy: that unmistakable glint of detachment.
This is a job for them and these boys are professionals. And after doing this for a year, you’re not surprised that their eyes, despite the beguiling smiles and tender touches, are looking right through you.
Which is why I said the battle of the sexes is null and void. However we women might accuse men of objectifying us and wanting nothing more than a perfect little package to fulfil their fantasies, the truth can be said of us women too. There was not a woman there who felt guilty for the voyeuristic trip they were taking. Nor were any of us ashamed or in any way sympathetic to these men who were, effectively, objectifying themselves for our pleasure. They were there to please us and we were enjoying every minute of it!
I think the only difference would be that a much smaller percentage of us there actually wanted to take one of them home than, I suspect, the average percentage of the male patronage of a strip club would. Beyond it all, the sexuality, the innuendo, the blatant rawness, you are left with how professional, dedicated and hard-working these men are.
They are performers, and brilliant ones at that, but I think female strippers might be better liars. If not better liars then maybe men are just better at allowing them selves to believe an illusion. I think the Chippendales are so successful because we woman love a perfect fantasy more than we do an imperfect reality and they give you the perfect fantasy. As long as they are on stage we can turn them into anything we want. Once you take one home you have only the reality, your options are gone. Now where’s the fun in that? But that’s just me…
