United Center
December 10, 2003
Chicago
Sun Times
Think the comedian/sing-er/actress who recently celebrated her 58th birthday is getting too old for the concert circuit? Don't Bette on it. "Let me say officially I'm not retiring and you can't make me," she told the applauding crowd. Whatever wind was missing from beneath her wings was soon back in full gale force, and by the end of the three-hour spectacle, it was the audience -- not Midler -- that was rendered breathless. Anyone who has seen the singer perform knows to expect a few things: Midler will make a grand entrance, intersperse moments of schtick in between singing, perform fan favorites such as "Friends" and "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" and close the show with an encore of two of her most recognized songs, Amanda McBroom's "The Rose" and Larry Henley and Jeff Silbar's "Wind Beneath My Wings." Here Midler didn't disappoint, meeting and exceeding all those expectations, beginning with her entrance, which had her flying in from the wings riding a carousel horse. Her humor was in fine form. The '60s hit "Chapel of Love" was performed as video images of defunct couples paraded across the screen. Included in her hit list were Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton ("I remember a time when exchanging vials of blood used to mean something!"), Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee ("They looked so happy in their video.") and Liza Minnelli and David Gest ("Liza with an ex."). She also saw fit to sprinkle her performance with local jokes, taking time out to recognize "my own little Gold Coast in the front row who lied, cheated or slept with people they didn't even like for these seats." "And my poor Cubbies," she pined, "screwed in public more than Paris Hilton." It wasn't all laughs, though. The tour is in support of Midler's latest release, a tribute to the late singer Rosemary Clooney, who died from lung cancer last year at the age of 74. Clooney was one of the top-selling female singers of the 1950s, and Midler counts herself as a fan. "I'm only too happy to refresh your memory of who she was and what her music was about," she told the audience before launching into her take on one of Clooney's hits, "Come On-A My House." Midler's own brashness had the potential to steamroll over Clooney's gentler legacy and she seemed to recognize this by putting her own over-the-top persona on hold, giving a straightforward rendition of the song. Even a diva like Midler will occasionally share the stage. Video displays above her projected images of the late singer while Midler gave a touching performance of another Clooney hit, the Jack Lawrence and Walter Gross gem "Tenderly." It's ironic that Midler's record
is actually in competition with the late singer's last recording
for a best traditional pop vocal Grammy. The Divine Miss M just
might need a little divine intervention -- lest she eclipse her
idol when the awards are handed out. It's camp, it's
all Bette Midler Bette Midler, camp
is thy middle name. Photo: Kathy B Take her grand entrance, descending from above while riding a white carousel horse. Or her exit from a carnival "tunnel of love" in a sleigh the shape of a pair of swans. And then there were the trademark mermaid fins (more about that later). Even the set, a glittering, Arabian Nights-themed amusement park that Midler referred to (with a nod to beat generation writer Lawrence Ferlinghetti) as a "Coney Island of the Mind," was characteristically over the top. But despite the outsized, impersonal setting of the United Center ("I'm so glad to be in the arena where the Bulls lose," Midler quipped.), Midler was somehow able to transform the huge venue into an intimate room. Even those who aren't Midler fans had to be impressed by her versatility, whether getting in hilariously catty barbs at other celebrities (you know who you are, Cher, Liza, Paris), hoofing it with her trio of singer-dancers and, not incidentally, displaying her versatility as a singer. As far as jokes, the audience favorite was Midler's comment on the trend she started years ago for wearing trashy outfits onstage, which is currently being brought to its illogical conclusion by younger performers like Britney Spears. "You have to be very careful what you wear on stage these days," she said. "You can't be a professional entertainer unless you're dressed like a 'ho.'" It's not for nothing that Midler is a multiple Grammy winner, and she alternately belted out the classic R&B song "When a Man Loves a Woman," cooed a sexy version of "Do You Wanna Dance" and was positively winsome on the venerable chestnut "Skylark." Some of the evening's most enjoyable tunes were culled from her new album, "Bette Midler Sings the Rosemary Clooney Songbook," which was conceived, co-produced and arranged by Midler's one-time accompanist, Barry Manilow. Midler showed her respect for Clooney, the classy crooner who dominated the airwaves in the '50s, with a hushed rendering of "Tenderly," while adding the requisite sauciness to "Come On-A My House." At times, though, the shtick got in the way of the music. A segment featuring her as the singing mermaid, Delores de Lago, went on far too long, even though some of the sight gags were memorable (How about four mermaids flopping around as they send up "All That Jazz" from "Chicago?"). But she can be forgiven. After all, you can't help but love someone who makes fun of herself via taped spoof of "Judge Judy" that finds the trademark CBS-TV eyeball taking Midler to court to pay for the failure of her short-lived TV series, "Bette." Ultimately, the "Kiss My Brass" show is all about good old-fashioned, leave-your-troubles-at-the-door entertainment. And that's something we can all use a little of these days. By Mark Guarino
She is, however, the people's
diva. Less sanctimonious than peers Barbra Streisand and Cher, Midler
uses humor and humility as her defining characteristics. At the United Center Wednesday, the opening night of her 32-date "Kiss My Brass!" tour, the singer-actress showcased her multiple strengths as a vocalist, comedienne, and bawdy provocateur. But rather than basking in adoration atop a pedestal, Midler worked the night hard, devoting much of the time to her expense. A video spoof poked fun at her recently-canceled sitcom, she regularly mocked her knack for the extreme and, reporting on her experience attending a Christina Aguilera concert, she laid claim to a dubious legacy: "I opened the door for trashy singers and big (expletives)," she said. Don't place any bets that Aguilera or her generation of one-dimensional kiddie pop sexpots will be filling stadiums in future decades. Midler still manages to fill those seats based on her ability to reference the past as well as the present, which includes an insatiable charisma that makes even the stinkiest routine feel fresh and dynamic. Wednesday's show was spent flinging zingers at current media foils like Jennifer Lopez, Rush Limbaugh and Paris Hilton. They were sprinkled in-between numbers that borrowed from Broadway musicals, Catskill humor, Busby Berkeley choreography and a vintage vaudeville sensibility. Running two hours and 15 minutes, it was a night of pleasurable escapism that bordered at times on the fantastical. Midler was backed by a seven-member band with an additional five-man horn section. The band made left turns all night, veering from swing ("Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy") to disco ("Do You Want to Dance") to '50s pop standards ("Come On-A My House") to her own signature ballads ("Wind Beneath My Wings"). Three dancer-singers accompanied her through most of the songs, spinning them into elaborate sequences. But her voice took center stage when she played things stripped down. "When a Man Loves a Woman" showcased her considerable soul chops, calling to mind her portrayal of the Janis Joplin-like character she played in "The Rose." The show's second set was focused on a parody of musical theater contrivances featuring Midler as a Broadway bound mermaid who tooled around the stage on a motorized wheelchair. The string of routines featured sets, costumes and choreography that were minimal but stunning. But the sharpest surprise of the night was Midler's relentless and not-so-subtle chiding of the Bush administration. The politicizing made for good jokes, but the most unexpected condemnation came with a duet between her and, on video, the late Fred Rogers (yes, of that neighborhood). The song was about wanting to be told the truth. Turning a children's lesson into savvy political commentary is a fine line, but it was another straightforward gesture Midler made speak volumes. |
At
age 58 and into her fourth decade as an entertainer, Bette Midler
has rightly earned her diva credentials.