Latest news with #MoulinRouge
The Sun
27 minutes ago
- Business
- The Sun
Inside the Ukrainian frontline strip club where brave dancers flout curfew to perform to punters enduring hell of war
AMID the missiles and misery of life on Ukraine's front line, there is one night-time spot which refuses to be beaten. In Kharkiv, Ukraine's second-largest city, the Flash Dancers strip club is still swinging - offering a temporary escape for the embattled locals. 9 9 9 Flash Dancers is a women-owned business which opens its doors every night - flouting the 11pm curfew. It offers exclusive, exotic entertainment to anyone who pays. Prostitution is illegal in Ukraine, so strip clubs find themselves in legal grey area. But the law was lightly applied before the war - and now the authorities seem to accept that momentary indulgence can be tolerated. Valeriya Zavadskaya, the club's co-owner, told Business Insider in 2023: "Our goal is to be a switch from what is happening." Her mother, a former professional Soviet dancer, opened the club a decade ago. The dancers arrive in the afternoon to practice their routines. By night time, they're dressed to the nines in ornate burlesque outfits to entertain their clients. The club is dimly lit in soft red glow as the doors swing open to welcome customers. There are never more than 20 in a night - and sometimes no one shows up. I went on holiday to UKRAINE - I fled £7-a-night hostel during air raid siren on first night…but it didn't spoil my trip More than a million residents have fled Kharkiv since war broke out, meaning fewer people are looking for entertainment. Drinks have also tripled in price since before fighting began. While the club is a haven for both staff and punters, the signs of war are inescapable. The windows on the three floors above the club are boarded up after an explosion in the city centre shattered every pane on the block. And Flash Dancers is underground, so it doubles up as an air-raid shelter. When the sirens sound, people scurry down to wait out rocket strikes in the red-leather booths surrounding the dance pole. But despite it all - the doors of Flash Dancers remain open. 9 9 9 Valeriya says: "It's something you can't say with words, but can tell with your body." Her founder mother Valeriia Kseniya now has a day job too as director of a small hotel. She told Business Insider: "For most of us in Ukraine today, it's difficult to earn a living in just one job." In 2014, she heard of a city-centre strip club closing down - and recognised her opportunity to bring her love of dance to the city she called home. With dreams of a modern-day Moulin Rouge, she hired a handful of women who could dance, and began crafting her vision. She says: "Everyone initially thought it was a club with happy endings. "Our position is that girls are not meat. Girls are about aesthetics, about femininity, about beauty." 9 9 9
Korea Herald
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
K-Musical Market opens with focus on global collaboration, financial sustainability
The fifth edition of the K-Musical Market kicked off Monday in Daehangno, Seoul's vibrant small theater district, launching a weeklong program aimed at strengthening Korea's position in the global musical theater ecosystem. Opening with a forum titled 'Evolving Factors Behind Box Office Success in the Global Musical Market,' the event brought together leading producers, licensing executives and cultural policymakers from Korea, the US, the UK, Japan and China to exchange insights on international trends and sustainable growth strategies. 'Korea has been a growing territory for at least 20 years and we look forward to more growth here. We look forward to learning more about unique Korean musicals that can find a wider audience in the rest of the world and we look forward to representing more,' said Sean Patrick Flahaven, chief theatricals executive of Concord Theatricals. He also emphasized the qualities that make musicals successful in licensing markets, with the example of 'Maybe Happy Ending,' a Tony-nominated musical adapted from the original Korean work. 'It's not so much dependent on being a Korean story as it is a more universal story. So I think that's an important aspect to have — that a compelling specific story can have universality as well — and that kind of universality speaks to success in future licensing.' Erica Lynn Schwartz, vice president of theatrical programming for ATG Entertainment, echoed the need for a broader vision by sharing her experience in producing "Moulin Rouge" at Colonial Theatre in Boston about 10 years ago. "The interest really was coming from the UK and Asia," she said, opening her eyes beyond Broadway. Both Flahaven and Schwartz acknowledged the financial challenges on Broadway, leading many producers to seek opportunities beyond Broadway. Referencing "Moulin Rouge" and "Suffs," she said, 'What I'm looking for is: What is the actual market to where we're going to be able to take these shows beyond Broadway … so it has to have a life on Broadway, but it also has to have a life beyond Broadway, or at least an audience where I know that there will be a sustainable financial model.' Presentations from Japan by ePlus and China by Star Space highlighted their unique musical markets. In his presentation, Daisuke Yokoyama, a senior executive from Japan's largest ticket platform ePlus, pointed out both structural differences and emerging synergies between the Japanese and Korean musical theater markets. He noted Japan's unique strength in producing "2.5-dimensional musicals" — shows adapted from anime, manga or games — which now make up about one-third of Japan's musical market and resonate especially with younger audiences. Meanwhile, original Korean musicals are gaining momentum in Japan, particularly in midsized venues of around 1,000 seats, aided by the global popularity of Korean content, including webtoons and streaming content. He proposed that Korean dynamism and Japanese delicacy in direction could lead to powerful co-productions, especially if paired with Broadway and West End business know-how. In a presentation on China's performing arts infrastructure, Jai Xuening, vice general manager of Shanghai Star Space Theater Management, introduced an ambitious, government-supported initiative that transforms commercial buildings and historic sites into clusters of small, modular theaters. Since its 2020 launch, flagship complexes like the Asia Mansion have housed up to 19 theaters under one roof, attracting over 70,000 ticketed audience members annually. Beyond presentations, the K-Musical Market includes musical pitching sessions, showcases, global meetings and over 300 business appointments, running through Friday. The K-Musical Market is presented by the Korea Arts Management Service and the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism.
Scottish Sun
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Scottish Sun
If you love musicals, you'll adore this sun-drenched singing retreat in Spain
I'm on a Sing, Eat, Retreat break, where each escape focuses on a different showstopping show PITCH PERFECT If you love musicals, you'll adore this sun-drenched singing retreat in Spain Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) STANDING in front of a West End musical director, a professional vocal coach and a class full of singing enthusiasts, I begin to question all the life choices I've made that have got me here. I don't often get nervous, but I'm now expected to start singing – aloud, and in a room full of people! Sign up for Scottish Sun newsletter Sign up 7 Sunbathing meets singing in Spain 7 Huerta Belinda villa is a majestic mansion Credit: Olly Hewitt I'm on a Sing, Eat, Retreat break, where each escape focuses on a different showstopping show. I love musicals – I've seen Jersey Boys, Moulin Rouge, Six, Wicked and countless others multiple times – and the retreat I've signed up for is themed around one of my favourite films, The Greatest Showman, in the stunning surroundings of Tarifa on the most southern tip of Spain. As a sound therapist, I know that belting out your favourite songs releases feel-good endorphins that can help to boost your immunity and lower stress levels, and that singing in a group amplifies these benefits. But, even with that knowledge, I've never actually sung in public, not even karaoke. Joining the cast This six-night retreat is hosted at a sprawling mansion-style villa, Huerta Belinda, complete with an A-lister-worthy pool, intricately tiled courtyards and views of Morocco. Stepping in, I feel like I've made it to the judges' houses on The X Factor, and that either Nicole Scherzinger or Simon Cowell will walk through the door any minute. Once we're past introductions, musical director Steve Moss of Les Misérables and Mary Poppins fame, informs our group of 21 that he's going to treat us 'like a West End cast'. And after a welcome dinner and drinks, we quickly settle into a routine. Our days are filled with vocal warm-ups, ensemble singing, smaller group vocal tech sessions, where we learn about things like breath control and posture, and one-to-ones to improve individually. A performance director also chats to us about staging and 'acting through song'. Exploring the Beautiful Costa de la Luz Each day of vocal work starts at 10am, ends in the early evening and also features group rehearsals for the live public concert we're working towards. There's some downtime to sit by the pool and soak up the sunshine, have a massage (for an additional cost) or use the sauna, but most of us end up using the time to try to memorise the lyrics. The idea is to be 'off book' for the show. Of course, all that singing builds up quite the appetite and, luckily, all meals (except one when we go to a quaint local hotel for dinner) are included. Think continental breakfasts with eggs in the morning, mezze-style buffets at lunch and huge, hearty paellas, casseroles and roast chicken with veg for dinner. There's also an endless supply of crisps, biscuits and cakes to snack on throughout the day, as well as sliced ginger, lemon and hot water on tap for throat-soothing teas. Sing for your supper Like any good ensemble cast, we are made up of a wide range of people – men and women, aged from 23 to 50-plus, with a doctor and teacher in the mix. More than a handful have sung at previous retreats – one lady is on her fifth visit – and inevitably, there's an open-mic session in the main living room after dinner each evening to show off what we've learned each day. 7 Huerta Belinda is a tranquil villa Credit: Olly Hewitt 7 The rooms at the singing retreat aren't too shabby Credit: Giles Bracher This place is a karaoke fan's dream come true! If I'm honest, my first one-to-one session feels like an extreme version of rejection therapy. Luckily, Steve happens to be one of the most charming people I've ever met, so I'm not even offended when, in between kind words and gentle encouragement, he tells me I need about 20 more lessons to become a half-decent singer! Still, I leave the session feeling in awe that I'm learning from an industry leader at the top of their craft, and I'm excited to see where this experience will take me. As the week goes on, we're also treated to an outstanding guest masterclass with West End star and vocal wizard Luke Bayer. After the session, everyone is left buzzing with energy from his tips and direction, especially when he ends it with a bonus private performance of Dear Bill from the musical Operation Mincemeat. This is Me It's soon Friday night, the soundchecks have been done, the lights are up and the glass-walled garden room of the villa is teeming with locals. MD Steve becomes our conductor, a round of applause welcomes us to the stage and, fuelled by adrenalin, everyone pulls it out of the bag as we perform several hits from the film, as well as an encore of Someone In The Crowd from La La Land, which is by the same songwriters as The Greatest Showman. 7 Farzana Ali gets vocal Credit: Farzana Ali 7 Tuck into authentic Spanish paella The four strongest singers also perform solos. I'm so proud of myself and my new pals that, under the bright lights, I resolve to join a choir so I can continue singing when I get home. That night's open-mic session is even more jubilant. Emboldened by my time on stage, I agree to be a backing singer for guest tutor Luke as he belts out And You Don't Even Know It from Everybody's Talking About Jamie. We have so much fun and I can't believe I've gone from never singing in public to sharing a mic with a West End stage lead. I've been to many retreats, but this one has helped me to connect with myself in a way I didn't realise I was even seeking. From now on, I'm going to embrace my singing voice – even if I'm not yet ready for the stage! FYI Six-night Sing, Eat, Retreat breaks cost from £995, including all tuition, most meals, soft drinks, wine and beer ( Return UK flights to Gibraltar, a 35-minute drive away, cost from £51.
The Age
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
Sick puppy: Is Australian cinema on its last legs?
Australian cinema has always been an up-and-down affair in terms of quality and box office, with our share ranging from 23.5 per cent in 1986 to 2 per cent in 2023. And, of course, the global spectacles of Baz Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge, Australia, The Great Gatsby, Elvis) and George Miller (the Mad Max, Babe and Happy Feet franchises) have existed in a realm that you would barely call Australian films. But I cannot recall a time when Australian movies have generated so little interest, with the latest batch of releases — Magic Beach, The Lost Tiger, Spit and The Correspondent — barely registering on the consciousness of local filmgoers, despite stars such as David Wenham and Richard Roxburgh touring the country, attending previews and Q&A sessions and appearing on television and radio talk shows. The most vivid example of the lack of engagement Australian audiences have with their own cinema is the WA-set The Surfer, a Wake in Fright -inspired freak-out in which Nicolas Cage's increasingly frazzled businessman tangles with xenophobic surfers fighting to stop him from buying a beachside home. Even though The Surfer features an Oscar-winning movie legend whose arrival in Yallingup whipped up global Instagram interest and was rapturously received at the Cannes Film Festival, it went out on just 76 screens in Australia — Hoyts and Event Cinema are not even bothering — which means it was destined to attract only a tiny audience. While the loss of interest in Australian cinema is in lockstep with the demise of non-blockbuster movies across the globe caused by the COVID lockdown and, more significantly, the proliferation of streaming, that decline is more keenly felt here than in other territories because of our size and total immersion in American popular culture. Every now and then an Oz movie will conquer the world and fill us with pride. We all beamed with pride as George Miller's Fury Road leaped to the top of the lists of the greatest action films ever made. But the default source for big-screen entertainment in Australia is Hollywood, which is why both our film and television industry have been swamped by the streaming tsunami. Does it matter that audiences are no longer seeing movies on the big screen? The Surfer will soon be on Stan, where it will be watched by many more people, here and around the world, than during its brief window at the cinemas. What it means is that Australian movies are no longer part of the conversation as they were during the 1970s, when films such as Newsfront, Picnic At Hanging Rock and The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith were integral to our national cultural revival, or the early 90s, with that explosion of lurid comedies (Muriel's Wedding, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, Strictly Ballroom) that turned our passion for kitsch into a badge of honour. Even if a movie does get a screening it is quickly sucked into the streaming vortex, joining the dozens of series that simply never get talked about, even if they are high quality. I recently asked a group at a lecture I was giving if they had heard of the recent WA-made series Scrublands. They looked at each other, then at me with a deep sense of confusion, as if I was asking them if they had seen a black-and-white Hungarian art movie from the 1930s instead of a television series based on a popular novel and shot in Augusta. How little cultural impact Australian film and television makes once it enters the streaming black hole can be measured by Kurzel's The Narrow Road to the Deep North. Despite being one of the best dramas in memory, and based on a celebrated novel, it has barely been discussed. Here in WA the situation is even more dire, with the cross-border cultural cringe so intense that we get ignored by the country. Dirt Music, The Furnace, Sweet As, Blueback, Kid Snow, H is For Happiness – all major disappointments. Even David Vincent Smith's stunning He Ain't Heavy — for my money the best-ever film produced in WA — made pennies at the box office. Ironically, the decline in interest in Australian movies comes at a time when we are in the final stages of building a long dreamed-about movie studio in Malaga. Its purpose is to attract major productions from overseas (movies and television series) so that local talent can learn from the big boys and bring those skills to bear on their own productions. How will it look when we have a state-of-the-art movie filmmaking facility welcoming lavishly funded productions from around the world when our own films play to near empty cinemas? Loading Unless something is done about Australian cinema we risk looking like an offshore factory for Hollywood, a place that provides labor but none of the artistry and ideas. Or am I writing off Oz movies too quickly? Have we lost interest in Australian movies or are Australian filmmakers not giving us the kind of rich, full-blooded narratives that are entertaining as they are culturally relevant, as we have done at points in our history? Australian filmmakers need to once again make the kinds of movies that still audience who are still going to see sophisticated non-blockbuster films from the United States and Europe, such Conclave and A Complete Unknown, two hugely entertaining movies with a lot on their minds that managed to lure viewers off couches and into cinemas and take part in a conversation.
Sydney Morning Herald
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
Sick puppy: Is Australian cinema on its last legs?
Australian cinema has always been an up-and-down affair in terms of quality and box office, with our share ranging from 23.5 per cent in 1986 to 2 per cent in 2023. And, of course, the global spectacles of Baz Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge, Australia, The Great Gatsby, Elvis) and George Miller (the Mad Max, Babe and Happy Feet franchises) have existed in a realm that you would barely call Australian films. But I cannot recall a time when Australian movies have generated so little interest, with the latest batch of releases — Magic Beach, The Lost Tiger, Spit and The Correspondent — barely registering on the consciousness of local filmgoers, despite stars such as David Wenham and Richard Roxburgh touring the country, attending previews and Q&A sessions and appearing on television and radio talk shows. The most vivid example of the lack of engagement Australian audiences have with their own cinema is the WA-set The Surfer, a Wake in Fright -inspired freak-out in which Nicolas Cage's increasingly frazzled businessman tangles with xenophobic surfers fighting to stop him from buying a beachside home. Even though The Surfer features an Oscar-winning movie legend whose arrival in Yallingup whipped up global Instagram interest and was rapturously received at the Cannes Film Festival, it went out on just 76 screens in Australia — Hoyts and Event Cinema are not even bothering — which means it was destined to attract only a tiny audience. While the loss of interest in Australian cinema is in lockstep with the demise of non-blockbuster movies across the globe caused by the COVID lockdown and, more significantly, the proliferation of streaming, that decline is more keenly felt here than in other territories because of our size and total immersion in American popular culture. Every now and then an Oz movie will conquer the world and fill us with pride. We all beamed with pride as George Miller's Fury Road leaped to the top of the lists of the greatest action films ever made. But the default source for big-screen entertainment in Australia is Hollywood, which is why both our film and television industry have been swamped by the streaming tsunami. Does it matter that audiences are no longer seeing movies on the big screen? The Surfer will soon be on Stan, where it will be watched by many more people, here and around the world, than during its brief window at the cinemas. What it means is that Australian movies are no longer part of the conversation as they were during the 1970s, when films such as Newsfront, Picnic At Hanging Rock and The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith were integral to our national cultural revival, or the early 90s, with that explosion of lurid comedies (Muriel's Wedding, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, Strictly Ballroom) that turned our passion for kitsch into a badge of honour. Even if a movie does get a screening it is quickly sucked into the streaming vortex, joining the dozens of series that simply never get talked about, even if they are high quality. I recently asked a group at a lecture I was giving if they had heard of the recent WA-made series Scrublands. They looked at each other, then at me with a deep sense of confusion, as if I was asking them if they had seen a black-and-white Hungarian art movie from the 1930s instead of a television series based on a popular novel and shot in Augusta. How little cultural impact Australian film and television makes once it enters the streaming black hole can be measured by Kurzel's The Narrow Road to the Deep North. Despite being one of the best dramas in memory, and based on a celebrated novel, it has barely been discussed. Here in WA the situation is even more dire, with the cross-border cultural cringe so intense that we get ignored by the country. Dirt Music, The Furnace, Sweet As, Blueback, Kid Snow, H is For Happiness – all major disappointments. Even David Vincent Smith's stunning He Ain't Heavy — for my money the best-ever film produced in WA — made pennies at the box office. Ironically, the decline in interest in Australian movies comes at a time when we are in the final stages of building a long dreamed-about movie studio in Malaga. Its purpose is to attract major productions from overseas (movies and television series) so that local talent can learn from the big boys and bring those skills to bear on their own productions. How will it look when we have a state-of-the-art movie filmmaking facility welcoming lavishly funded productions from around the world when our own films play to near empty cinemas? Loading Unless something is done about Australian cinema we risk looking like an offshore factory for Hollywood, a place that provides labor but none of the artistry and ideas. Or am I writing off Oz movies too quickly? Have we lost interest in Australian movies or are Australian filmmakers not giving us the kind of rich, full-blooded narratives that are entertaining as they are culturally relevant, as we have done at points in our history? Australian filmmakers need to once again make the kinds of movies that still audience who are still going to see sophisticated non-blockbuster films from the United States and Europe, such Conclave and A Complete Unknown, two hugely entertaining movies with a lot on their minds that managed to lure viewers off couches and into cinemas and take part in a conversation.
