Techniques take toll on showgirls

Rita Casablanca had to meet exacting criteria to be accepted into the topless dance revue "Crazy Horse Paris." Her breasts had to be a natural 34B. The space between her belly button and the top of her pubis had to measure precisely 18 centimeters.

Most important, she had to be a premiere dancer. Rita was a ballerina; this was her true entree into Las Vegas. It is a city of beauty but also of skill.

Beginning as a delicate 7-year-old, Rita (her stage name) devoted her life to the art of movement -- the difficult athleticism; nimble poses stretching to each fingertip -- until she was dancing in the same national opera house in Romania as her father.

After five years of this, her French teacher of a mother, Mariana, pushed Rita to explore the world, specifically France. Options seemed scant. It was tough for non-French dancers to break onto the classical stage there. So she went to "Crazy Horse," where Rita noticed how cabaret was different.

In ballet, "they don't say, 'Oh, you dance beautiful.' In general, they say, 'Oh, your technique is good,'" she says. "When you arrive in Crazy Horse ... your dance has to be beautiful, graceful. All the moves you do are aesthetical."

Then, Rita signed up to transfer to a "Crazy Horse"-inspired show opening in Las Vegas under the name "La Femme." (It has since been renamed "MGM Grand's Crazy Horse Paris.") She didn't speak much English. But she took to Vegas fast.

As "Crazy Horse Paris" celebrates its seven-year anniversary in Vegas, it's still like this for 14 dancers: For seven group numbers, and six solos, dancers wear scant costumes that don't cover privates so much, but evoke the spirit of being dressed as British guards, or in pink bob wigs, black gloves and high heels. They are elegant and lovely.

Their control system is all ballet techniques and the occasional dancing on pointe. It takes a toll.

"I stopped little by little two years ago," Rita says in English with an accent influenced by French and Romanian. "I danced for about 20 years, classical dance, and my body was completely decomposed. Knees. Ankles. Back. Neck."

Rita is now the show manager. She still fills in onstage when a dancer is out.

"You keep in shape because it's your discipline. But you keep in shape also because you hope, probably, you are going to perform again," she says. "This is your raison d'être."

Somewhere close to age 30 (she won't give me her age or real name), she is a den mother. As such, she introduces me to dancers backstage. It's quiet in back, and professional. Everyone speaks French.

There's Narra, half-Lebanese, half-French. She never wants to leave Vegas for Paris: "Here, everyone is on vacation. It's always sunny."

There's Iota, the self-proclaimed oldest dancer, which seems preposterous since she looks so young. She's a dance captain and chiropractor on the side. She is from the South of France, and her ankles are "not so good" anymore.

They shower. They stretch. They put on makeup. What about all this does Rita miss most?

"The pain! No, I'm kidding you," she says and laughs. "What I miss about the stage is that feeling, that connection with the public, when you see all the attention on you.

"They see all the work, all the years that you really torture your body to do something beautiful to show your movement to look perfect. At that moment, the public reacts and appreciates what you do."

Sometimes, Rita dreams of dancing, and in these dreams, she says, "I'm stressed" at the challenge of performing beautifully.

"And I love these dreams, because this is a time that has passed away and never comes back," she says. "You feel so excited. You have all the adrenaline in your body. And you wake up, and you go, 'Ohhh, that was great.' "

See video at https://www.reviewjournal.com/media/video/crazyhorse.html

Doug Elfman's column appears on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Contact him at 702-383-0391 and at delfman@reviewjournal.com. He blogs at reviewjournal.com/elfman.