Friday, May 24, 2013

Cabaret travels 1: Shyamala's response Cabaret in American Films

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Cabaret in American Films: Bob Fosse, German and Indian influences, and fluid sexualities.

In researching cabaret I found myself interested in how the genre is portrayed in American films.  I started with two films that I am familiar with: Victor/Victoria (1982) -which I watched frequently as a youth, and Cabaret (1972) - which has always left an impression on me even though I had only watched it once as a child. 

Cabaret is directed and choreographed by Bob Fosse, whose seminal style of subtly gritty jazz is famously recognizable with isolations of the hips, shoulders, inverted knees and the notorious jazz hands.  Cabaret is about a performer in a cabaret, played by Liza Minnelli, who is taken by a rich man who has an affair both with her and her male friend/lover.  Victor/Victoria is also about a woman performer, played by Julie Andrews, posing as a man who is a female impersonator and often performs in cabaret settings.  It is choreographed by Rob Marshall with strong influences from Bob Fosse (but a more sanitized version of Fosse’s movement in my opinion).  Like many copycat choreographers of Fosse, Rob Marshall maintained the signature movements but is missing the darker undertones and subtle sexual tension of Bob Fosse.  Instead it is just big recognizable movements without any character or nuance.  In several sources Fosse’s former dancers emphasize how he was always saying to pull back and tone things down, that “less is more.”   Partially this is attributed to his move from the stage to film where the camera can focus in on the smaller gestures and isolated movements. (http://www.dancespirit.com/2011/10/legendary-moves-nov-2011/, http://youtu.be/cl9Xivexrps, and  http://youtu.be/hcAgZn7rnR8)

 “Money makes the World Go Round” from Cabaret exemplifies the Fosse style of emotion (in this case sexual tension) simmering under the surface with small almost understated movements:

Cabaret takes place in Germany in a kabarett (cabaret).  Like in France, where the cabaret form originated, German kabarett was a variety show in a restaurant/bar, with satirical political commentary along side musical/dance entertainment and was often a place of meeting for artists, intellectuals and revolutionaries.  What was unique about German kabarett was “gallow’s humor” or dark humor around morbid topics such as war and disease.  The movie Cabaret portrays the 1930s with the tension of the Nazi Party on the rise. (http://www.stanford.edu/dept/german/berlin_class/archives/glossary_cabaret.html)

Bob Fosse’s dance style is very compatible with the dark, sensual world portrayed in Cabaret.   While he actually came from vaudeville, from what I understand vaudeville was a stage variety show and thus similar to a cabaret. As Louise Quick, one of his former dancers, demonstrates in the following video: his movements had underlying meanings and subtexts and so knowing the history and context of where they come from is cruxial to getting to the depth of his style. 

Interestingly, Victor/Victoria also has a strong German connection for it is an adaption of a 1933 German film called Viktor und Viktoria (Victor and Victoria).  Plot summary is here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0024736/plotsummary?ref_=tt_ov_pl

One of the famous music and dance numbers in Victor/Victoria is “Jazz Hot” where Victoria does her first female impersonation and reveals herself as a man during the bow.   Here you can see the Bob Fosse inspired movements starting around 1:15min:
Also note the “jazz hands” forming a sort of Hindu God like multiple armed image around 1:50min.  Is this a coincidence?

Perhaps not: an interesting theory about jazz hands by a blogger named Minai was brought to my attention by Cynthia.  Minai writes: 
“A nagging theory of mine remains.  One of Bob Fosse's characteristic moves was ‘Jazz Hands.’  Some have said ‘Jazz Hands’ originated from African dance, but was their popularity influenced by Jack Cole's use of Bharatanatyam hand gestures like the alapadma?  Could the ‘Jazz Hands’ derivative ‘Spirit Fingers have been popularized by inspirations from classical Indian dance?  A girl can dream! ;)”-cinemanrityagharana.blogspot.com/2011/12/choreographerdancer-jack-cole-and-hindu.html (Dec 18, 2011)

While I was intrigued by this thought I didn’t take it seriously at first.  But, according to several of his former dancers in the following talk, Fosse took movements from Jack Cole and then minimized them, thus making them own, while Minai’s blog clearly maps out the influence Indian dance had on Jack Cole and shows examples of the numbers he choreographed for movies such as Kismet which show that he had strong training in some kind of Indian dance, likely Bharatanatyam. (cinemanrityagharana.blogspot.com/2011/12/choreographerdancer-jack-cole-and-hindu.html (Dec 18, 2011)
Here the dancers talk about Jack Cole influence from 4:53min:

So, I took a closer look at the jazz hands to see what I thought.  The opening number of Pippin’s “Magic to do” exemplifies the jazz hands that were eventually popularized. Here is a version of “Magic to do” (also discussed in Louise Quick’s talk reference above).  I’m not sure this one was choreographed by Fosse but clearly it is influenced by his style. Check out the first 1min 20 sec:  
 As you can see these hands are quite fluid and have a lot more variety then just the wide fingered jazz hand that I often think of, and does have a potential connection to alapadma. 

And perhaps there’s other loose connections as well.  As another of his dancers wrote: “Fosse dancers must be able to isolate everything, right down to their eyeballs, elbows and fingers. When a Fosse dancer learns to focus her energy in stillness, she can grab the audience with a simple flutter of her fingers.” ( http://www.dancespirit.com/2011/10/legendary-moves-nov-2011/ )  These same words could easily be a description of Indian dance.  And in one of the comments for this Legendary Moves article, Donna McKechnie says “I'll never forget rehearsing the Coffee Break number in How To Succeed.......(with Gwen acting as dance captain) rehearsing eyeball movement in unison! Wonderful.”(http://www.dancespirit.com/2011/10/legendary-moves-nov-2011/ )  Not only could “rehearsing eyeball movement” be a description of an Indian dance style, but I have never heard a description of any western dance (except a post modern one) as emphasizing eye movements.  And this could be a coincidence, but Louise Quick also described his style as having lines going on into eternity (6:25min: http://youtu.be/XqNIRxsi-pc).  I have definitely heard Bharatanatyam described in this way and it is probably applicable to other Indian dances as well.

Along the Indian connection, I found the following clip from the 1995 stage version of Victor Victoria.  Rob Marshall was still the choreographer, but this time he showed a little more of the sexual innuendo in the Bob Fosse style movement he portrayed.  And is it just me. or is her costume more orientalist then the film version with the diagonal garment like a sari over the shoulder? And is it too much of a stretch to say that from 4:32-4:40 min that the side and diagonal arm movements are reminiscent of Bharata Natyam?  Check in out: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xgsfg_victor-victoria-le-jazz-hot-live_music#.UZ6RTOtyRS4

So, if Jack Cole was so clearly influenced by Indian dance -Minai makes a very compelling documentation of this, and if Cole was a strong influence on Fosse as his dancer describes, then its likely that Fosse’s work also has elements of Indian dance in it (of course African origins are clearly traceable as well).
Fosse’s style of dance is considered one of the major building blocks of jazz dance and jazz dance is often described as one of the off-springs of American cabaret.  So perhaps Indian dances influenced jazz dancing and how we know it today!

A final observation about the movies… Both films represent sexuality quite fluidly which was new in the 70s when Cabaret came out, but Victor/Victoria was part of a “breathrough cycle of mainstream Hollywood studio movies featuring gay parnerships and drag characters” in the early 80s. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084865/trivia)

William Luhr and Peter Lehman wrote a very interesting article on gender and sexuality in Victor/Victoria.  Here is one dance moment at a cabaret they highlighted: 

Four performers—two apparently male, two apparently female—dance slowly onstage, facing the audience and the camera. Suddenly, continuing the dance, they turn around, but we do not see their backs as expected; rather, the males have miraculously become females and the females males in face and costuming. We soon realise that the dancers are made up and costumed in such a way as to present completely different sexual identities from the front and the back—they wear masks on the back of their heads to present a different sex than their faces indicate, and their costumes change, front and back, to maintain the illusion. It is jarring to see them whirl around because the sexual change is so instantaneous, and it takes time to realise which “male” or which “female” is a mask and which is a made-up face. We never actually learn the sexual identities of the performers. During the number, the group of four at times splits into two “couples”. When the tempo is slow, the audience can begin to fix the sexual nature of the façades of the performers they see, but suddenly the tempo speeds up, and the performers whirl wildly about, making the number a crazed emitter of conflicting sexual cues. All certainty is gone. Then the tempo slows and the illusion of a measure of certainty returns.
Only in this number does Edwards significantly undermine the sexual perception of the film’s spectator…


They write more about many more ways that the film brings forth the complexity of gender and sexuality and reveals the performance of them both for people who do drag, but also the everyday performance of those trying to maintain their closeted identities, and even the performance of gender and sexuality for everyone and the powerplays involved in that performance.  

Cabaret, as mentioned before, also deals with sexuality with a love triangle between a woman and her two male lovers who also have slept with each other.  I don’t know if these themes are inherent to cabaret performances in general, but perhaps the cabaret as a place of political satire and performance may have allowed a space for non-conforming identities?  Perhaps it depends on which cabarets in which communities. 


For a plot summary of Victor Victoria go to: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084865/plotsummary
For a synopsis of Cabaret  go to: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068327/synopsis
For a biography on Fosse go to: http://www.pbs.org/wnet/broadway/stars/bob-fosse/

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Cabaret Travels: Aditee's written response to assignment # 1



Cabaret Travels: Response to assignment 1
The geographical region with a history of cabaret that intrigues me greatly is Mumbai, India. Having been a very important port and place of trade during the British Raj, Bombay, as it was then called, has always had a very cosmopolitan spirit. The influences and confluences of the many cultures, some transitional and some that have inhabited the city over centuries are still very vibrantly and visibly present. One such legacy that Bombay now Mumbai, still maintains is that of its nightclubs and nightlife. Mumbai till date, boasts of a nightlife that is not only an interesting mix of times and cultures, but also has something to offer across age groups and social stratas.
From the early 1900’s to 1970’s Bombay had many nightclubs that hosted Jazz nights and cabaret performances. http://www.tajmahalfoxtrot.com/?page_id=7
Even though dance bars that targeted a certain kind audience possibly replaced some of those nightclubs, Mumbai’s elite however still have not been able to give up their club culture. Though activities like a game of bridge, billiards, wining and dining remain as part of the clubbing tradition, cabaret performances however have made an exit from their entertainment charts. One of the main reasons for this could be that all these clubs, until very recently, were open to men alone. And cabaret which never really had any social acceptance, had to be probably taken out of these spaces, which then became recreational spaces for families. But could this be the only reason? Could the entry of cabaret dances into cinema be another reason for the cabaret to have exited the nightclubs?
Narrowing down my view and focusing on a specific area that sort of documents this vast landscape of Mumbai’s nightlife, I would like to look closely at Hindi cinema and the depiction of Mumbai’s nightlife and cabaret clubs in it. Celebrating its centenary this year, the Hindi film industry can be seen as an archive that has stored, in the form of its cinema, the journey that cabaret probably took in India. These films not only map the changes in the presentation style, aesthetic and politics of the form, but also, show the change in the position of the performer and her metamorphosis from being a social outcast/vamp/fallen woman to becoming an object of desire, who in today’s Hindi cinema has gained a kind of social acceptance and even become one of the highest paid performers in a film.  
Within the Hindi film industry, I would like to focus on Helen who I feel not only maps these change, but also became an icon and maybe even initiated the creation of the Bollywood dance genre. The Hindi film industry has called her their ‘dancing queen’, but Helen, I feel is much more than that.
According to Jerry Pinto’s book Helen: The life and times of a Bollywood H-Bomb, Helen Richardson, better known as Helen, comes from a mixed parentage. Her father was a Frenchman and her mother, Marlene, was half-Spanish and half-Burmese (13). Helen gets her surname ‘Richardson’ from her mother’s second husband, who was a British officer posted in Burma (13). Post the declaration of war on Burma by Japan, during the Second World War, Helen at the age of 3, had walked from Rangoon, Burma to Assam, India, with her mother and baby brother seeking refuge (14).
She had an unhappy and difficult childhood that was spent in grave poverty. Helen credits her entry into films to her love for dancing and her poverty. She started at the age of 13, as a chorus girl, with the help of the then dancing sensation Cuckoo, who was also her mother’s bridge partner. It was on Cuckoo’s insistence that Helen was sent to train in the dance forms of Manipuri, Bharatnatyam and Kathak under several Gurus and dance masters (16-17). After many performances as a chorus girl in films, she got her first solo dance in a film called Alif Laila in 1953. This probably lead to the beginning of what was then to become a long professional and personal relationship with a film producer called P.N. Arora (16-17).
P.N. Arora produced several B-Grade films almost all of which starred Helen but none left a mark on her career (19). Her first big break however that brought her to limelight was a song and dance number in a film called Barish in 1957 and Howrah Bridge in 1958 (20). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDfcXtIsgR8
From then on there was no looking back for Helen. She then not only established herself as a dancing sensation, but also started become a part of every major film project in the Hindi cinema industry. Some of her most popular song and dance sequences are:
Mera naam chin chin choo, HowrahBridge,1958
O haseena zulfon wali, Teesri Manzil ,1966
Aajane jaan, Inteqaam 1969
Piya tu, Caravan 1971
Mehbooba Mehbooba, Sholay 1975
Yeh Mera Dil, Don 1978
What excites me most about a performer like Helen is the stylistics variety present in her performances and the contradictions inherent in the way she is presented by the film industry. Despite being categorised as the ‘fallen-white woman’, she was loved by one and all. She on the one hand became the personification of desire, was labelled as a glamour doll, and on the other hand performed comic roles partnering with comedians like Mehmood and Johnny Walker. She could very comfortably handle comedy and combine it with her dance numbers, like she did in ‘Dil na Kahin lagana’ in Ghunghat, 1960 and ‘Hum kale hain toh kya hua dilwale hain’ with Mehmood in Gumnaam.  She was presented as a foreigner who stood for everything that was not Indian and yet she was able to convince the audiences with her costal fisher woman look in songs like ‘Mungda’ from the film Inkaar in 1977, to being the ‘Bharatiya naari’ of modern India in films like Hum Hindustani.  
Though she mostly played the role of the fallen woman, her dancing style was and still is well followed by the leading ladies of Hindi cinema. It is interesting that her cabaret numbers in particular have been described as being seductive but never cheap, sensual and never vulgar.
Since my childhood I was most fascinated by her dancing styles. As I grew up, I felt that that there was much more to her songs and dances than just entertainment.
Just watching her dance sequences I feel, one can graph the changing grammar of Mumbai film industry’s dance language. It also appears that the changes in Hindi cinema for example moving from black & white to colour, and with that the explorations and experiments that began in Hindi cinema like creation of newer plots, moving from family dramas, patriotic cinema to the more entertaining suspense thrillers, exploring new and different locales, all could be mapped via the reading the positioning of her dance sequences. The change in the position of the vamp, which in many ways defined modernity, in a very negative light, and was pitted against the image of the ideal Indian woman, also speaks about the times when a nationalistic image of India and Indian-ness and thus the Indian woman were being curated. Studying her cabaret songs alone one could read the kind of racial and gender politics that existed in the Hindi film industry,
and perhaps see them as a reflection of the Indian psyche?
In many ways, through her costumes, mannerisms etc. the change in the social, political and cultural scenarios in Indian cities, especially in Mumbai, pre and post independence could also possibly be studied.
Keeping all theses aspects in mind, I would like to look closely at Helen’s cabaret dance numbers to see the interrelationship between a city-performer-performance form and research, whether the body of a performer becomes a site where the social-political-cultural changes that develop with time can be/are projected and documented?

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Anj's Cabaret Assignment #1

I am interested in the depiction of Cabaret dancers in Bollywood, specifically looking at the famous Bollywood dancer/actress Helen. As I googled Cabaret in Bollywood, Helen kept popping up as one of the most popular Bollywood dancers (especially in relation to Cabaret). This really struck a personal note for me, as I grew up watching Bollywood films and always remember her numbers and my mom specifically talking about how beautiful a woman and dancer Helen was. I always wondered why her name was "Helen" and I loved watching her in the films. Now after a few google searches, I learned she is half burmese, quarter Anglo and quarter Indian and sort of happened upon the business after a very tough childhood fleeing Burma. I also learned her "breakthrough" film was when she sang and danced "Mera Nam Chin Chin Choo". This was one of my all time favorite old Bollywood songs and it was so interesting to see the video via you tube after just singing the song for all these years (not really knowing the meaning). I never knew Helen was up front and Geeta Dutt was only her background singer. Anyhow, my interest is piqued in wanting to learn more about what was permissible and what was not in terms of depicting female sexuality through dance in night club settings. Apparently, from what I read, Helen was a classy Cabaret act and though she was sexy, she was never considered vulgar. Her dance training was also eclectic, which reminds me of our very own PN collective members that grapple with being sexualized and perceived as exotic for being ethnically ambiguous. Was she sexually empowered or objectified vixen? I am also interested in researching if there was an actual Cabaret scene in Mumbai, India or if was only depicted in Bollywood Fantasy land. Here are a few links that I found and I'm excited to learn more. http://post.jagran.com/Cabaret-Queen-Helen-celebrates-72nd-birthday-1319116432 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVKEMOenP-o http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WX5D_bxSRQ

Cabaret Travels: Cyn's Written Response #1

Since cabaret is a pretty different topic than my normal research focus and creative practice, I cast the net pretty wide for this opening round.  I decided to focus on cabaret in the United States, specifically the Harlem cabaret scene, and I did some reading on the female blues tradition.  

Multiple Genealogies of American Cabaret
Associated with performance forms as disparate as sketch comedy, minstrelsy, drag balls, and jazz, cabaret is notoriously difficult to define.  Indeed, one can compellingly argue that cabaret is “a site, rather than a form, of cultural production” (Tenorio, 34) whose combination of late-night dining (usually with alcohol) and performance invokes particular modes of spectatorship and participation. I have found it useful to trace some of the multiple genealogies of cabaret as it developed in the United States in relation to European and African-American influences.  My writing on this is largely indebted to Shane Vogel’s The Scene of Harlem Cabaret: Race, Sexuality, Performance.[1]
            
The official “origin” of modern cabaret performance is the Chat Noir in the Montmartre district of Paris, a bohemian tavern founded by poets and artists in 1881: "Distinguishing themselves as a cabaret artistique, the Chat Noir and subsequent imitators adapted minor forms of entertainment -- popular songs, shadow plays, marionette shows,  pantomimes, dance, and skits -- and endowed them with an oppositional edge in modernist performances of political and social satire, cultural commentary, and aesthetic critique" (Vogel, 45).  Common cabaret conventions included the combination of tavern and performance stage, a collage-like rather than single-narrative approach to performance, physical proximity of audience and performers, and literary wordplay and irony (Vogel, 45).  Cabaret artistiques soon spread to “Barcelona, Berlin, Vienna, Zurich, Munich, and Moscow” and strongly “shaped the institutions and aesthetic principles of the Continental avant-garde in the decades” before the First World War” (45). 
          
In 1911, Jesse Lasky, a vaudeville impresario and Hollywood mogul, created the Folies Bergère in New York, which he claimed to be the first cabaret in the United States.  Named after a famous Parisian music hall, the Folies Bergère was meant to emulate European sophistication for a white, middle-class, mixed-gender American audience.  Lasky’s endeavor points out a key distinction between European and American cabaret: "While European cabaret was distinguished from popular amusements by its association with the modernist avant-garde, its performances of political satire and cultural critique, and its bohemian audience, cabaret in the United States was initially associated with commercialism, spectacle, and popular consumption" (Vogel, 46).  This distinction, however, can easily be over-reified: certainly American cabaret can contain political critique, while European cabaret can have commercial aspects.  Lasky’s Folies Bergère typifies a common historical understanding of American cabaret performance: "a tangential, even strictly nominal, relationship to European cabaret; an image of middle-class sophistication and consumerism; the cultivation of intimacy between performers and spectators; an emphasis on architecture and spatial practices as a way of characterizing the cabaret; performances that borrowed from the styles of vaudeville, music halls, and other popular amusements; and an excited self-consciousness about the new and modern character of the night.  American cabaret was thus imagined as an institution of cosmopolitanism" (Vogel, 40).
            
Despite Lasky’s claims, Vogel notes that European immigrant communities in the United States had formed cabarets in ethnic enclaves throughout New York as early as the late 1800s-early 1900s.  Moreover, many black, working-class traditions from the late 19th century have deeply shaped American cabaret.  Investigating these predominantly African-American traditions, which include the concert saloon, the jook joint, the professional club, and the black and tan saloon, offer a very different genealogy of cabaret in the United States than a Eurocentric one. 
          
The concert saloon of the 1860s-90s was an urban phenomenon, a male-oriented drinking establishment with “waiter girls” that had musical and at times theatrical performance (Vogel, 50).  Its rural counterpart was the jook joint, “a central institution of secular black dance and music [that] developed during and after Reconstruction by rural sharecroppers and migratory workers in the South” (Vogel, 51).  These two contexts were connected through the “Great Migration” of black southerners to northern cities in the early 20th century, as well as traveling black performance circuits that moved between urban and rural locations.  The professional club was geared towards performers in the business for their own after-hours entertainment (Vogel, 52), while the black and tan saloons were “working class concert saloons or bars that encouraged black-white social mixing and opportunities for interracial dancing” (Vogel, 53).  This family of African-American pre-cabaret performance practices emerged in the historical moment of post-slavery (made illegal in 1865) where Jim Crow racial segregation was widespead.

Affective and Spatial Practices of the (Harlem) Cabaret
If it is difficult to identify a distinct stylistic genre of cabaret performance, then what makes the cabaret unique?  Vogel argues that “public intimacy” is crucial to the cabaret (41). Spatially, spectators and performers in a cabaret are in close proximity with the audience seated at tables close to and surrounding the stage, which often doubles as dance-floor.  Rather than the frontal view and fourth wall of a theatrical proscenium stage, in the cabaret, spectators’ and performer’s gazes are directed in criss-crossing, scattered sightlines that create multiple foci and a “play of looks” between spectators, between performer and spectator (64).  The “official” performance is always in competition with the “other” performance of sociality between the spectators.  As such, the cabaret is characerized by a spectatorship of distraction and interruption.  According to Vogel, "It is this interplay of closeness and distance, acceptance and refusal, connection and disconnection, concentration and distraction that shapes the cabaret as an intimate formation, the perpetual disorganization and reorganization of sound, bodies, sightlines, and feelings as the performer competes with the audience itself for its attention" (Vogel, 70).

In this context, performers developed strategies of “creating direct, fast connections with the audience” (70) -- think of the strategies that stand-up comics and emcees use to engage audiences.  “Not ordered by the logics of realism or the codes of bourgeois theater, cabaret is a nonrepresentational, nonmatrixed performance,” one in which performers represent themselves and “occup[y] the same time and space as the audience” (Vogel, 29).

But what does Vogel mean by intimacy?  He posits the public intimacy of the cabaret “as a kind of trespass,” intimacy as temporary and provisional, intimacy that enables “social and sexual contacts that were transient, contingent, non-normative, and emergent” (Vogel, 22).  These are “criminal intimacies,” as formulated by Lauren Berlant and Michael Warne, that "‘bear no necessary relation to domestic space, to kinship, to the couple form, to property, or to the nation’" (Vogel, 22).  As such, the queerness of the cabaret’s intimacy-effects lie in its challenge of normative structures: "Intimacy, in other words, threatens (promises?) to undo the routines and routes, the familiar patterns and rote narratives, that organize psychic and social lives.  For those already excluded from dominant narratives and normative systems of kinship, family, and social belonging, the rewards of such risks in forging public intimacies can be nothing less than a vital mode of existence" (Vogel, 42).

Tenorio contends that the cabaret, as a queer counterpublic, enabled race-mixing, class-mixing, and gender play (40).  These convergences, however, were not a straightforward defiance of segregation, but shot through with uneven power relations.  They included the practice of “slumming,” or whites attending “black cabarets” in search of adventurous bohemian experiences, and the “segregated cabarets” (of which the Cotton Club is one famous example), where white audiences watched black performers in performative spectacles that were often scripted and staged by white writers, composers, and directors (Vogel, 82).

The Women-Loving Blues
At this point, I’d like to shift gears and zero in on a specific performance tradition associated with the cabaret, the blues.  In particular, I’m intrigued by the feminist and queer resonances that the songs, performances, and lives of African-American blueswomen such as Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith seemed to embody. 
             
According to Angela Davis, “the [blues] musical genre is called the ‘blues’ not only because it employs a musical scale containing ‘blue notes’ [flattened or bent notes] but also because it names, in myriad ways, the social and psychic afflictions and aspirations of African Americans” (Davis, 33).  In her eyes, the blues reflected the changed living conditions of black Americans post-slavery, who were still subject to institutional racism, economic impoverishment, and political disenfranchisement, but who could exercise a new freedom in terms of sexual self-determination and individual travel (Davis, 8).  The female blues tradition gave voice to the realities of working-class African-American women, with “[l]yrics often explicitly address[ing] sexual self-determination, extramarital relationships, homosexuality, working-class experience, and women’s social oppression” (Vogel, 170).  Privileging a raw perspective on love and sexuality that was at odds with the middle-class, heteronormative romantic love glorified in popular music, "[t]he blues women openly challenged the gender politics implicit in traditional cultural representations of marriage and heterosexual love relationships.  Refusing, in the blues tradition of raw realism, to romanticize romantic relationships, they instead exposed the stereotypes and explored the contradictions of those relationships.  By doing so, they redefined women’s ‘place.’  They forged and memorialized images of tough, resilient, and independent women who were afraid neither of their own vulnerability nor of defending their right to be respected as autonomous human beings" (Davis, 41).

The women portrayed in the blues were usually portrayed as independent women – rarely as wives and almost never as mothers (Davis, 13).  In addition, certain blues women portrayed nonnormative sexuality and gender in their lyrics, performances, and lives, specifically “women-loving women,” the term used within the community to describe working-class black women who engaged in same-sex sexual relations and the “bulldagger, a term used to describe a masculine women-loving woman” (Tenorio, 34).  It is possible that this portrayal was at least partially strategic, for bisexuality (which was considered more acceptable than lesbianism) was seen as being bold and adventurous by many audiences.  Acccording to Davis,"[s]uch famous blues singers of the time like Bessie Smith, Gertrude ‘Ma’ Rainey, Gladys Bentley, and Alberta Hunter purposefully seemed to present the image of themselves as bisexual, or purveyors of same-sex female relationships, in order to spark the interest of their audience’ (37)
          
Perhaps the most famous example of a queer-inflected blues song is Ma Rainey’s “Prove it on Me Blues” (1929), whose original advertisement includes a large, masculine-presenting women flirting with two women on the street while the police surveil the scene from the background.

The lyrics, which Hazel Carby describe as “vacillat[ing] between the subversive hidden activity of women loving women [and] a public declaration of lesbianism” (Carby, 16) are as follows:
Went out last night, had a great big fight
Everything seemed to go on wrong
I looked up, to my surprise
The gal I was with was gone.

Where she went, I don't know
I mean to follow everywhere she goes;
Folks say I'm crooked. I didn't know where she took it
I want the whole world to know.

They say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
Sure got to prove it on me;
Went out last night with a crowd of my friends,
They must've been women, 'cause I don't like no men.

It's true I wear a collar and a tie,
Makes the wind blow all the while
Don't you say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
You sure got to prove it on me.

Say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
Sure got to prove it on me.

I went out last night with a crowd of my friends,
It must've been women, 'cause I don't like no men.
Wear my clothes just like a fan
Talk to the gals just like any old man

Cause they say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
Sure got to prove it on me.

Another blueswoman, Gladys Bentley, was known for wearing masculine attire, top hat and tails, during her performances: 
 
In addition, “B.D. Women’s Blues” (1935) by Lucille Bogan, aka Bessie Jackson, also gave voice to the bulldagger or bulldyke of the era in the classic AAB blues lyric structure.  Her lyrics envision a time when men will no longer be necessary ("they ain't going to need no men"), where B.D. women embody masculine traits of physicality, roughness, independence, working and earning money.

Comin' a time, B.D. women they ain't going to need no men
Comin' a time, B.D. women they ain't going to need no men
'Cause the way they treat us is a lowdown and dirty sin

B.D. women, you sure can't understand
B.D. women, you sure can't understand
They got a head like a sweet angel and they walk just like a natural man

B.D. women, they all done learned their plan
B.D. women, they all done learned their plan
They can lay their jive just like a natural man

B.D. women, B.D. women, you know they sure is rough
B.D. women, B.D. women, you know they sure is rough
They all drink up plenty whiskey and they sure will strut their stuff

B.D. women, you know they work and make their dough
B.D. women, you know they work and make their dough
And when they get ready to spend it, they know they have to go 


Creative Assignment Ideas:
(1) Figure out a way to formally translate the criss-crossing glances, distracted spectatorship, and public intimacy of the cabaret into a dance-for-camera work.
(2) Create a choreographic study set to a "queer" blues song that combines abhinaya and Indian dance vocabulary with some of the Africanist aesthetic principles as outlined by Brenda Dixon Gottschild:
  1. embracing the conflict (contrariety, difference, dissonance)
  2. polycentrism/polyrhythm
  3. high-affect juxtaposition
  4. ephebism (vital aliveness, power, drive, attack, flexibility, ass. with youth)
  5. the aesthetic of cool

Bibliography
Carby, Hazel V.  1999.  Cultures in Babylon: Black Britain and African America.  London: Verso.
Davis, Angela Y..  1999.  Blues Legacies and Black Feminism.  New York: Vintage Books.
Dixon Gottschild, Brenda.  2001.  "Stripping the Emperor: The Africanist Presence in American Concert Dance." In moving history/dancing cultures, eds. Ann Dils and Ann Cooper Albright, Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 332-341.
Tenorio, Samantha C.  2010.  "Women-Loving Women: Queering Black Urban Space during the Harlem Renaissance."  In The UCI Undergraduate Research Journal.  http://www.urop.uci.edu/journal/journal10/06_tenorio.pdf
Vogel, Shane.  2009.  The Scene of Harlem Cabaret: Race, Sexuality, Performance.  Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
"Harlem Rennaissance."  Encyclopedia Brittanicahttp://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/255397/Harlem-Renaissance


[1] In his 2009 book, The Scene of Harlem Cabaret: Race, Sexuality, Performance, Vogel utilizes performance and literary theory to analyze the performative practices of the 1920s-30s Harlem cabarets in New York and the literary production of the Cabaret School of the Harlem Renaissance.  The Harlem Renaissance, according to the Encyclopedia Brittanica, was “a blossoming (c. 1918–37) of African American culture, particularly in the creative arts, and the most influential movement in African American literary history” (http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/255397/Harlem-Renaissance).  With a distinctly queer lens that is keenly attentive to issues of race and class, Vogel argues that the Cabaret School offered critical alternatives to both the primitivism of the Negro vogue and racial uplift ideology. The 1920s ‘Negro vogue’ reflected “[g]rowing white and corporate interest and engagement with black music and culture” (Vogel 2009: 2) and was associated with “black sensuousness, exhibitionism, primitivism, and sensationalism” (Vogel 2009: 3).  On the other hand, uplift ideology “of the early twentieth century sought to ground the struggle for racial equality and the struggle against white supremacy in the material and moral achievements and possibilities of the black middle class” and was associated with Victorian-inflected notions such as “self-help, racial solidarity, temperance, thrift, chastity, social purity, patriarchal authority, and the accumulation of wealth” (Vogel 2009: 4). 


Cabaret Project Babli- written assignment 1

Princess Amina

Princess Amina was a woman who lived in Munich In 1960s. I first found out about her by the name of Lady Moynihan. Her name, where she was from, and what she did was a mystery – filled with sex, drugs, and dance. This much is clear, she was a dancer who performed in nightclubs. A bellydancer?

Searching Lady Moynihan online, I come across an new item in “The Times” from 1965:

A young Malayan belly dancer became a peeress today with the death of Lord Moynihan, a former chairman of Britain's Liberal party. 
The new Lady Moynihan is the former Shirin Berry, known professionally as Princess Amina, who was married in 1958 to Anthony P.A. Moynihan, the Baron's son, at a secret Moslem ceremony in Tangier, Morocco. 
A year later they were married again in England. Mr Moynihan, a devotee of rock'n'roll, resigned his reserve commission in the Brigade of Guards and played the bongo drums at his wife's worldwide cabaret appearances. [The Times]”

http://webofevil.livejournal.com/717433.html (22.5.2013) (I had seen an archive of the actual THE TIMES, but could not access it anymore)

Her names and origins multiply as I keep searching. She disappears and reappears in multiple contexts, under different names. Yet what is constant- she dances, in nightclubs, cabarets- she is known as a bellydancer.

On the wikipedia page of Baron Anthony Moynihan, for example, she is called Shirin Berry appears. She is said to be a Malaysian dancer who lived and worked in Australia. There she met the son of a British Baron, Tony Moynihan, who played the banjo. They performed together, and got married. She became known as Princess Amina.

Married in Marocco? Danced in Australia? Malaysian?

I continue the search, this time typing in Shirin Berry-- and get some pictures!


I find an Italian newspaper article from 1962 about a Pakistani dancer appearing in Rome- accompanied by her husband Anthony Moynihan! Ok, now she is Pakistani!!!


Is this really the same woman in all the pictures?

Ok, now, with the names, Princess Amina, Moynihan, and Berry I search further--- and come across an article about a girl from Karachi! Bobbie Berry, daughter of the Anglo-Indian widow Mrs Berry, and the African American sailor Gunboat Jack!
In a quite beautifully written article in a Pakistani called “POETIC LICENCE: Of Gunboat Jack and Princess Amina” by Kaleem Omar (http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=story_31-10-2002_pg3_7, 22.5.2013) I finally read what seems like a somewhat reliable version of her story.

She grew up in Karachi, finished school, and then disappeared for some years (to Australia, I ask in my mind??)- only to reappear in Karachi

in a most dramatic fashion one day in 1963 when Bobbie Berry suddenly (...) to perform at the Le Gourmet nightclub as a belly dancer billed as “Princess Amina”, accompanied on the bongo drums by the Right Honourable Tony Moynihan, if you please.

Tony Moynihan was the eldest son of Lord Moynihan, a member of the British peerage. His younger brother was Colin Moynihan, who went on to become a minister in Margaret Thatcher’s government. Tony Moynihan, however, was a ne’er-do-well and a drifter to boot.
But still didn’t quite explain just what the son of a member of the House of Lords was doing playing the bongo drums with a belly dance act in Karachi. The mystery was solved when it was revealed that Tony Moynihan had married Bobbie Berry a couple of years earlier and — by some mysterious process — had transformed her into the belly dancing sensation, Princess Amina.
Her performances at Le Gourmet electrified Karachi’s nightclub crowd. Princess Amina wasn’t just another belly dancer;; she was the ultimate belly dancer — a performer of dazzling virtuosity and seemingly inexhaustible stamina. Compared to her, even such belly dancing greats as Egypt’s Samia Gamal were nothing. What gave Princess Amina’s dancing its special quality were partly her skill, partly her supreme physical fitness, and partly the sheer aura of sensuousness she radiated.”

They disappeared again, supposedly to the “Far East” and then back to London, where Moynihan, after his father's death took his seat in the House of Lords (see The Times above).

They got divorced, and Lord Moynihan apparently consecutively married two other belly dancers and passed away in 1991, at age 55 in Manila. He is variously described as a “bongo-drummer, confidence trickster, brothel-keeper, drug-smuggler and police informer,” and a key witness for the American Drug Enforcement Agency (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/6604750/Lord-Moynihan.html, 22.5.2013)

By and large, her time in Munich, where she crossed paths with my mom remains a mystery to me. However, I would be interested to pursue the oral history of this nomadic cabaret dancer, who, after disappearing from Munich reappears in Italy... where, at least according to the 2002 article by Kaleem Omar she still lived with her second husband, whose name I could not locate, so I lost her trace for now. (http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=story_31-10-2002_pg3_7, 22.5.2013)

Princess Amina is the individual artist you interests me, because it opens a space to create a character who is nomadic, a fascinating woman, and allows me to inteface nightclub performance with exoticism, and the attraction of the exotic.

However, her reception and history reflects an image of the cabaret performance being conflated with nightclub settings and the kind of “light” entertainment associated with such establishments. This image is rather narrow, even as the French word cabaret des indeed refer to an establishment serving alcohol (http://www.musicals101.com/cabaret.htm, 23.5.2013). However, in approaching a creative grappling with a persona like Princess Amina I am interested in older and more complicted histories of cabaret, that highligt political subversiveness over its commercial sexappeal as a performance methodology.

I am hence here looking towards the European origins of the cabaret, namely the “ cabaret artistique” which started in 1881 in Paris at the Le Chat noir, and the literary cabarets that have a strong lineage in the Berlin, Vienna and Munich, which starts in 1901 (http://www.kabarettarchiv.at/Ordner/history.htm, 23.5.2013). I am here particularly drawn to the literary-political cabaret of the 1930s.
The cabaret artistique and Le Chat Noir, it is said, attracted well known, avant-garde artists and a regular audience, an a small, interactive space. John Kenrick writes that

Performers got to test new material, audiences enjoyed a stimulating evening for the price of a few drinks, and owners could count on a steady flow of regular customers – a win-win-win proposition. Le Chat Noir attracted such notables as Maupassant, Debussy and Satie. 

While the cabaret as a perormance mode and space spread throughout Europe, it became especially strong in Berlin during the Weimar Time, after censorship was loosened:

The overthrow of the kaiser, the revolutionary tumult that resulted in the establishment of a Social-Democratic republic, and the hardships of the inflation period were the troubled waters in which cabaretists could fish with spectacular success.  Berlin became a maelstrom, sucking in the energies and talents of the rest of Germany. . . What New York in the 1920s was to jazz and speakeasies, Berlin was to cabaret.
“Laurence Senelick, 
Cabaret Performance, Volume II: Europe 1920-1940 (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1993), p. 25.

The German Cabaret went through a revival again after WWII, where it expanded into the radio and TV. I remember Cabaret being part of Saturevening TV entertainment we watched at home. However, since the late 1990s Kabarett is struggling to compete with Comedyshows..... (http://www.mediaculture-online.de/fileadmin/bibliothek/hoerburger_nihilisten/hoerburger_nihilisten.pdf, 28.5.2013)


To this day, the German word KABARETT has political and satirical resonances, and to me as a German speaker means something different than the cabaret- even though they have the same roots. At a point of intersection between European, South Asian and Anglo-phone conception of the cabaret, I am hence interested in approaching Princess Amina's story through the performative mode inspired by the German Kabarett tradition or “Kleinkunst” which combines text, perofmance arts and music aiming to comment on a parody the current socio-political condtion of a given country or society, critically, or funny, entertaining or aesthetically- its all possible (http://mephisto976.uni-leipzig.de/themen/beitrag/artikel/cabaret-oder-kabarett.html#share , 28.5.2013).