Hello, Duckie If the fat ballerina doesn’t have you in a spin, the emotional striptease will. Our critic sees life and art collide in a cabaret with a twist. By Tim Teeman for The Times:
On the surface, C’est Duckie is just another slice of zippy cabaret: guests arrive at the Barbican Theatre in London, are welcomed by an MC, then shown to their tables by waiters. There is endless champagne. Brightly garbed acts, including the air-scything Miss High Leg Kick, descend upon the tables.
But there is something dark belying the froth. The tagline of the Duckie, the club night behind the show — “purveyors of working class entertainment” — alerts you to something a little edgier than ostrich feathers and showgirls.
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