the aging burlesque star...
paloma negra's [chavela vargas' classic black dove] depiction of this tangible tragedy is nothing short of poignant & powerful poetry. her performance was breathtakingly beautiful at the supper club this weekend past, courtesy of the cohesively choreographed anything goes cabaret showcase.
the calibre of performers & the journey of the show were crafted like an exceptionally well produced album or film. the beginning flowed like a meandering river into the middle & end.
reality lurked hidden in curtain shadows, temporarily suspended as the audience were enveloped into dark mystical worlds which overlapped each preceding one.
over the years i've experienced many performances through film & theatre addressing this ubiquitous & heartfelt theme: the demise of the star. the appearance based use-by date of women a societal conundrum experiencing increased velocity, compounded in this case beyond belief.
how can one retire gracefully into the wings when eternally destined for centre stage?
the ghosts of memories past still bind the flesh to the present.
even if unwilling or in/unfirm. oh how the mighty have fallen.
silver screen icon jane russell when asked, once retorted "why did i quit movies? because i was getting too old. you couldn't go on acting in those years if you were an actress over 30."
nor was she able to have children of her own later through a range of back street abortions she endured throughout her career as pregnancy was not an option. the silver lining of the screen/stage has sharp edges.
but it is mercilessly hard to let go of the compulsion to fly, especially having once felt the wind beneath your wings. stage left & stage right.
