Lights flicker in the club as the DJ puts the needle on the record. The DJ adjusts the dials.
Anastascia walks down the moldy green hallway, stepping into a puddle.
On stage, the lights flicker an electric blue.
In the solid, multi-colored lit dressing room, she brushes some makeup on her chin. Her backup dancers put on some jewelry and touch up their lipstick. She puts on her glasses.
The DJ dances by her booth while people dance on stage, warming up the crowd for her. She walks on stage, in silhouette, lit behind a royal blue. People cheer for her.
As she performs on stage, a man in the audience turns away from his girlfriend and keeps looking at her. His girlfriend moves his chin back towards her, trying to get him to focus on her. He glances again and his girlfriend’s face falls.
Anastacia dances in the front row with audience. The background singers take over the microphone and dance on stage. More people dance on stage.
The guy stares again and his girlfriend slaps him across the cheek. Free to pursue her, he moves his way through the crowd. Watching her, he writes his phone number down on a notepad.
After the show, she talks backstage with her background singers. The guy touches her shoulder and she turns around, alarmed. He hands her his phone number. She gives him a look, as if to say “really?” and walks down the hallway, tearing up the piece of paper.
From the pronounced neon and exuberant DJ, it’s meant to be a night with a rising diva with some splashes of camp.
Anastacia is a performer who thrives off the energy of the crowd and people around her. But she sings alone on stage for an extended period of time. The background singers/dancers, whose movements match her singing, are kept off to the side and given their own segments In between there’s a subplot of a young man who is in love with her and pursues her. She rejects him without a second thought. None of it reaches a logical conclusion.
The rigid vision of Anastacia as a haughty diva, who won’t share the stage or take an interested man’s number, is an obnoxious one. It seems to be going against her outgoing nature of getting involved with the crowd and dancing with them. Even on stage, she waits for the triumphant vocal moment and relishes it instead of letting it define her.
Director: Nigel Dick Year: 1999
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