Everyone from tattooed retro-cuties of both sexes to soccer moms to mascarada-clad lucha fans jammed the Showbox SoDo last Sunday night to bear witness to Lucha VaVoom, and damned if the sporting event/three-ring circus didn’t deliver sexo y violencia in stylish spades.
Calling Lucha VaVoom a wrestler-and-stripper show is a little like calling Lawrence of Arabia a movie about some British guy playing in the sand. The lucha portion of the show emphasized acrobatics, humor, and grandly theatrical style over U.S. wrestling’s litany of yelling and empty posturing; and the five ecdysiasts providing the striptease entertainment served up their wares with equally creative flourishes.
The closest thing to the traditional American notion of a wrestling match came with the first bout between former WWE star Joey Ryan and Chocolate Caliente, and even that was spiked with humor and some swift and acrobatic moves in the grand lucha style. The 300-pound Caliente displayed surprising dexterity, and Ryan played the seventies smoothie with a wink and a smile.
Things rocketed straight to the stratosphere of Gloriously Weird with the second match on the card, a tag-team rumble which pitted Los Crazy Chickens against Dr. Horowitz (a white-masked medico assessino) and El Vagabundo. The Chickens, accompanied by their own naggingly catchy theme song thundering over the Showbox sound system, were–yep–guys in chicken suits. The silly accoutrements concealed two guys with a staggeringly wiry and energetic style; gravity-defying leaps and flips abounded.
The ladies in the audience went nuts for Bombero, an incomparably built cross between a traditional luchador, a fireman, and a Chippendale’s dancer. Fortunately, he displayed technique to match his abs. His stocky tag team partner Chilango represented the first honest-to-God Mexican wrestler of the evening and lent folk hero contrast to Bombero’s mojo. Their rivals, El Jimador (another well-built mascarado) and the barrio-ready Cholo, more than kept up the pace.
As is customary, though, the best and most bizarre lucha match hit the mat last.
I learned many valuable insights during my conversation with Lucha VaVoom co-producer Liz Fairbairn before the show. One of the most important: Never refer to a vertically-challenged wrestler as a little person, a dwarf, or a midget. They are “minis.” And minis are as revered as their conventional-sized compadres in the universe of lucha libre. Two especially skilled minis–el Chupacabrita and Li’l Chicken–nearly stole the show out from underneath their full-sized tag team amigos (Mexican legends Magno and Misterioso, respectively). The ensuing throwdown shook the SoDo walls and gave the crowd the most hardcore example of genuine Mexican lucha libre style.
The between-bout striptease acts spiced the proceedings up nicely. Lux la Croix (who also moonlights as a choreographer for Whitney Houston and Jennifer Lopez, among others) performed a caliente Latin-flavored number. Lucy Fur paid cheeky homage to bananas and blow, replete with Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” filling the hall’s speakers. Carolina Cerisola presented a classy, elegant striptease that was readily eaten up by the audience. They were all terrific, but the two most outside-the-box acts were Karis the African Queen (an androgynous sylph of a man who virtuostically worked hula hoops over his lithe body) and Ursulina, who morphed instantly from 1950s VaVoom vixen to hot-pantsed punk (in loving tribute to Iggy Pop, whose “Raw Power” provided a potent soundtrack). That hairpin contrast in tone pretty much epitomized Lucha VaVoom’s bawdy, insane spirit. Here’s hoping this band of crazed gypsies swings this far north again but soon.
