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The festival of colours wouldn't be complete without the perfect dance playlist for your Holi party. Here are some of our favorite films that sparked the popularity of these danceable Holi numbers.
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Title: Histórias de Cabaret (2007)
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| Cast overview, first billed only: | |||
| Willem Dafoe | ... | Ray Ruby | |
| Bob Hoskins | ... | The Baron | |
| Matthew Modine | ... | Johnie Ruby | |
| Asia Argento | ... | Monroe | |
| Riccardo Scamarcio | ... | Doctor Steven | |
| Sylvia Miles | ... | Lilian Murray | |
| Roy Dotrice | ... | Jay | |
| Joe Cortese | ... | Danny Cash | |
| Burt Young | ... | Murray | |
| Stefania Rocca | ... | Debby | |
| Bianca Balti | ... | Adrian | |
| Shanyn Leigh | ... | Dolle | |
 |
Lou Doillon | ... | Lola |
|
|
Frankie Cee | ... | Luigi |
| Pras Michel | ... | Sandman | |
A screwball comedy centered on a Manhattan go-go dancing club, where a financial struggle between the owner, his accountant and his silent partner brother threatens the business's future.
I was excited to see this brilliant ensemble cast do their magic in Go Go Tales, but I found myself unexpectedly being served a gourmet hot-dog from actors who are capable of playing much more challenging characters. What makes a gourmet hot-dog anyways? Is it made from the lips and a**holes of kobe beef? Is there fois gras blended in with the questionable parts of top-shelf carcasses? I don't think it is an accident that right in the middle of Go Go Tales there is a scene with gourmet hot dogs being cooked the gourmet way - in microwave ovens, while the beautiful go-go dancers cook themselves in a faulty tanning bed.
This isn't to say that Go Go Tales was badly acted - it was very well acted for what it is - a meandering vignette of a failing second rate strip joint; a metaphor for how even the most exotic dreams and aspirations are subject to blandness like anything else. It plays out like a cabaret stage production, a bit of aimless vaudeville salted with an undercurrent of subtle existential humming: A page out of Cassavetes' Killing of a Chinese Bookie. Like 'Chinese Bookie', this film offered more pleasure for me in the thinking about it afterward than it was to watch.
I can't say that I didn't like it, and I can't say that I want to watch it again. But for a gourmet hot-dog, it wasn't terrible; it was mostly just a regular hot-dog made with some Hoskins, Dafoe and a dash of Modine, thrown in a microwave and served in the bawdy atmosphere of a musky strip club.