Saturday, January 19, 2008

One Night in Bangkok


I have never been a fan of cabaret shows. I don't know if they typically lack a plot or it's a matter of the plot irritating me, but cabaret shows too often feature what seems to be simply too much dancing about. An endless series of songs about a melodramatic romance, which really just serve as backdrop to endless costume changes, each more impressively-sequenced than the last.

But make it a lady-boy cabaret show, and well, that's a different thing entirely.

For my mother, and anyone else who may be wondering, a lady boy is a gifted performer, who also happens to be a transvestite.

The setting of the Calypso Cabaret in the Asia Hotel in Bangkok was very over-the-top in a early 90's Vegas-meets cruise ship sort of way. I half expected Isaac from the Love Boat to be serving us drinks. The theatre for the show itself was all red velvet plush chairs, disco balls and bad red wine - it really was quite fantastic.

The costume changes were frequent. Sequence, feathers and elaborate head-dresses were numerous. The camp factor was painfully high. And I have to say, my opinion of cabaret shows is unchanged - the lack of plot is annoying. But all of this is irrelevant. Because the real show was about something else entirely - attempting to decipher the gender of the entertainers. To make things interesting, some of the performers were women - real women. And a much larger number were lady-boys. But obviously they don't wear signs on their foreheads explaining the specifics of their gender, so the audience is left to speculate.

Its cruel and perhaps juvenile, but when my sister and I go to the beach we often amuse ourselves people-watching, or more specifically, playing the game 'are those breasts real?'. The skills I have honed at first were quite useful and I admit, I spent the first 10 minutes of the performance oggling breasts. The rule is basically this - if it don't jiggle as the performer shimmies and jives across the stage, it isn't real. However it took me the same 10 minutes to piece together that fake boobies do not automatically equal male. So clearly I needed to look past the breasts to see more of the women in question. (Strange reversal of positions, you have admit!) The Adam's Apple wasn't a universally helpful cue either, as it was inconsistently visible. Age was a bit of an indicator, as older lady boys require more make-up to cover things up and end up looking somehow harder and used, and, well, male. Height was also helfpul as some of the performers were freakishly tall for Asian women. (Most were slim, small and toned - hateful really, and I don't care what gender they were!) Even using all of these features as clues, I was still confused about the vast majority of performers. About 45 minutes into the show I had a revelation - hips. Men just don't have them, as far as I can tell. The problem of course is using any feature isn't enough. So while the hips may appear masculine and the boobs might be unnaturally firm - the facial features and body structure may scream female. What's fascinating therefore is you question every performer on the stage and walk away thinking some of the real women were actually men.

You may be wondering about the obvious - the package, the genitalia, the boy bits. Tucked, taped, tortured - I'm not sure, but nowhere to be seen.

But despite my doubts and speculations, there was no denying that all of the performers were exceptionally attractive. A tip for any real ladies out there who may be considering taking in a lady boy show - make the effort to do your hair before your big night out. Pretty much every day in Asia is a bad hair day for me. Complete absences of hair dryers and my total indifference means I'm either sporting a sloppy ponytail or a just-rolled-out-of-bed look. The night in question was a pony tail sort of night. While I was somewhat prepared for it - I was still surprised how frumpish I felt compared to a bunch of men.

But male, female, whatever, it doesn't matter. They were attractive and talented. Cabaret shows still suck though.

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