t was the early 1950s, and a man—some may say a genius—had a vision of the naked female form as high art. He
followed his muse(s) to create an erotic aesthetic that is still thriving after more than half a century. That man was Alain
Bernardin. (You were thinking of someone else?) In 1951 he founded Crazy Horse, a high-class Parisian girlie show that
took its name from another of Bernardin's preoccupations, the American West. If you want to see Bernardin's flawless
females, you no longer need to go to Paris—like so many other wonders of the world, Crazy Horse has set up shop in
Vegas. And it's the real deal: All dancers appearing at the MGM Grand performed with the original troupe.
Planned down to the thread, the brief costumes suggest something familiar (say, a Buckingham Palace guard, as at top) while showing as much woman as possible. Lighting is similarly deferential—brushstrokes by a painter aware that his canvas was perfect untouched.
The dancers are all trained ballerinas, but Crazy Horse is better than the ballet in numerous ways. There's not a tutu in sight, and you won't find men in too-tight underwear onstage. Maybe a few in the audience but none onstage.
