Friday, October 15, 2004 Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

SHOW REVIEW: Adult shows could learn from 'The Fashionistas'

The S&M love story at the Krave nightclub has a focused, committed vision, but could use a better start time

The Strip may not be ready for "The Fashionistas," a boy-meets-girl story told in dance, set to profane industrial music, where boy is seduced by sadomasochistic imagery and you're not sure if the girl will end up with the boy or the other girl. Photo by JANE KALINOWSKY/REVIEW-JOURNAL

A pornographer has just embarrassed a lot of people.

Adult video mogul John Stagliano has shown the producers of "Skintight," "Midnight Fantasy," "Bite" and even "Zumanity" what a real Las Vegas adult show can be, if one is not concerned with selling tickets to charter planes of tourists.

The trouble is, those shows are all likely to be here long after "The Fashionistas" is gone. Well, maybe not "Bite." But the open-minded should nonetheless catch it at the Krave nightclub while they can.

Unless, of course, the Strip is ready for a boy-meets-girl story told in dance, set to profane industrial music, where boy is seduced by sadomasochistic imagery and you're not sure if the girl will end up with the boy or the other girl.

Stagliano might have a better chance had he beaten "Zumanity" to town. Or perhaps "Zumanity" has kept him from being run out of town. The Cirque du Soleil production is the closest comparison in flirting with bisexuality and fetish imagery. The two share a cabaret setting and a penchant for outrageous costumes. They even have similar versions of an S&M-flavored act, where a female acrobat hangs from straps.

Stagliano can't top Cirque's budget or local reputation. But his is the one that reveals a focused, committed vision, rather than throwing a lot of money at something, hoping it will stick. He has a stronger grasp of how to straddle the thin line between what's dramatically erotic and what's just silly. Knowing that no two people will react in the same way, he blurs that line as well.

The director adapted the story from his hard-core 2002 movie of the same name, and he could stand to clarify it for those who don't plan to see the video. But if you can follow the wild twist at the beginning, you're on your way.

Famous designer Antonio (Enrique Lugo, who co-choreographed with Las Vegas veteran Nick Navarro) is staging his latest fashion show. But the runway is crashed by interlopers who attack the models, then pull off their raincoats to reveal kinkier designs beneath.

The stage action is also seen on a large rear screen, which then shifts to the screen of a computer Antonio is using on a sidestage. The upstart company that crashed the fashion show has sent him a taunting invitation via DVD: "Welcome to America, Antonio. Let's do some business."

Antonio soon visits the studio of Helena (Kelly Adkins), who wastes no time getting down to the business of after-hours office sex. The show isn't topless because it's not covered by a casino license, but takes its choreography further than anything else on the Strip.

It's quiet Jesse (Marceea Moreno), who maintains her work ethic while expressing her yearnings through two Evanescence songs, "Bring Me to Life" and "My Immortal."

Las Vegas audiences aren't used to dance as an uninterrupted form. This, combined with the ambitions of a plot, provokes unsolicited laughs in places and makes it drag on in others. When Jesse goes to an aerobics class, you keep waiting for something to happen besides an aerobics class.

But the show's saving grace is its style and humor. Nowhere is it more apparent than when Antonio discovers an "Easter egg" on his DVD, leading to invitations of another sort: "Antonio, choose your fetish."

These are acted out in whimsical vignettes that back up Stagliano's claims that "the quality of the ideas" would separate him from the Strip's topless fare.

"Derriere" shows what happens when a guy is dragged into a dress shop by his girlfriend, then busted for checking out other women. "Breasts" makes fun of the country's mammary obsession with the aid of cheerleaders, fruit and Lords of Acid's "I Must Increase My Bust."

The incessant drone of the industrial-flavored soundtrack will turn some viewers off more than the onstage action. Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" kicks in near the end and never sounded so good.

But such decisions make "The Fashionistas" the rare example of a show that's completely free of marketing concerns or corporate thinking. Even so, everyone runs out of money sooner or later.

Since Stagliano was bold enough to create a show and then figure out how to sell it, maybe someone can help him figure out how to keep it around. At the very least, the 8 p.m. showtime has got to go. This is a late show if ever there was one.

Why not throw a weekly 1 or 2 a.m. performance for industry workers and the casts of other shows? A 9 or 10 p.m. start on other nights would better tie the show to the club's "omnisexual" demographic. And why clear the room to remove the rows of theater seats instead of enticing showgoers to stick around while the club crowd comes in?

For mostly the wrong reasons, "The Fashionistas" is going to need all the help it can get.