Look a little higher guys. Higher. Above the shoulders. There you go. See?
She's singing.
In fact, Katie Webber was on "American Idol" (Season 3) and on Broadway in "Wicked." In "Peepshow" she rolls around with a giant white teddy bear, which amusingly transforms into a bearskin rug as peekaboo accessory.
The dance number is familiar to the Las Vegas stage. The fact that it's sung live by a performer with some recognition -- and no special billing -- is almost unheard of. Especially if you mistakenly lump "Peepshow" in with lower-budget topless revues, where it's standard practice for dancers to lip-sync as they bump and grind.
Webber's rendition of the Connie Francis hit "Teddy" is a benchmark for the new Planet Hollywood production, one of a few numbers to nail the theatrical blend of Broadway and burlesque the whole show tries to achieve. But it also raises the essential question: Does anyone care?
"Peepshow" is a girlie show given a $12 million Broadway sheen and sensibility by some of today's busiest Broadway creators. It clearly transcends its inspirations in retro striptease and the Strip's current crop of topless cabaret shows.
But to what does it transcend? "Peepshow" hovers in an odd zone between burlesque and theater. Could be that it's too jiggly for theater buffs, but still too timid or fabulous (in a gay way) for straight male horndogs. (Most of the time, the women wear pasties, a burlesque tradition we thought Las Vegas shed back in the '50s).
You can call it a hybrid, which is great if you're buying a car, but tricky for a new show trying to define itself. In Vegas terms, it's best described as a more wholesome, centerfold-next-door version of Cirque du Soleil's "Zumanity," especially when you factor the common highlights of a milk bath and a show-stopping acrobat (Stoyan Metchkarov) on ropes.
It's all done with great style and wit and could introduce a new generation to the old-Vegas floorshow. But those who have been around this stuff a long time might find it familiar and repetitive, more like what these top-shelf talents set out to reinvent than what they ultimately delivered.
Director-choreographer Jerry Mitchell and production designer David Rockwell -- whose five collaborations include "Legally Blonde" and "Hairspray" -- extend the stage into the audience with runways and fill it with sparkling visuals. A glitzy pumpkin reveals a stripper pole for limber dancer Carolyn Pace. A giant Radio Flyer red wagon rises up with a swim tank full of white liquid for the Kelis hit "Milkshake."
The concept, however, is on shaky ground from the get-go. An opening video sets up the wisp of a story, establishing co-star Kelly Monaco (a "General Hospital" star and the first winner of "Dancing with the Stars") as a lonely professional drifting into a randy fairy-tale dreamland with Spice Girl Mel B. (Melanie Brown) as her guide.
Why is Monaco, a smokin' hot Playboy model, alone and unsatisfied? Try not to ask. The plot line is only there to give the show an arc and make Monaco the audience surrogate.
But the problem with offering people a story, even a lame fragment of one, is that people will try to follow it. This one just raises more questions and dubious themes about sexual empowerment than it's worth, leaving Monaco without much to do.
(If the box office sags and the show must downsize when the three-month contracts for the two stars expire, don't be surprised if Monaco's role goes to someone in the chorus.)
"Peepshow" might be wiser to revert to a simple revue format, with Mel B. introducing each number in her own saucy style. She's not a great singer, but she's a great presence.
The Broadway influence includes a live band and a half-dozen original songs by Andrew Lippa. Some are performed by Josh Strickland, who starred in Disney's Broadway version of "Tarzan." For every one that's just right -- such as a funny take on the three pigs and the "Big Bad Wolf" -- there's another that sounds too much like the cheesy pop hits that surround the originals.
Whether it's Aerosmith's "Pink" or Ginuine's "Pony," most of the slick arrangements end up sounding basically alike, and remind us Broadway/showtune voices aren't always the best for pop and rock.
By the hunky Strickland's second or third song, I started thinking, "What this show needs is an ugly person!" A grungy rocker -- maybe dishing out the weird strip-joint noir of Mike Doughty's old band Soul Coughing -- or a world wise, plus-sized blues queen to anchor all the glam. A show that's supposed to be naughty could stand to be a little dirtier as well.
Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford @reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.
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