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The Paris cabaret scene may be quintessentially French, but most of the dancers aren't. At the Moulin Rouge, only four of the 60 Doriss Girls and three of the 20 male dancers are French citizens; to this total should be added the horse Macbeth III, star of the Oriental fantasy sequence but born and raised in Vincennes. The rest of the dancers come from all over the globe, particularly Australia, Holland, Russia and Eastern Europe. "I still get goosebumps every time I see the cancan," says Miami-born Nicole Graham, one of the show's stars. "I guess it's because I know what it means to dance it." In her four years at the cabaret, she has worked her way up from topless chorus girl to cancan soloist and singer. The cancan is the most difficult dance she has ever done, so grueling that most cabarets only "do a wink" to it. Like athletes, dancers have to think about the future, so she is developing her singing career during the day. Unlike some of her colleagues, Graham doesn't want to think about kids until she "retires;" it takes months to get your stomach back. But dancers can spend all day with their children, then put them to bed before heading off to work (she arrives at 8:30pm). Harold Van Buuren, dance captain at Le Paradis Latin, laughs when asked if he directs the dancers in French. "Oh no, they wouldn't understand! We all work in English." A muscular and extremely accomplished dancer, Van Buuren comes from Johannesburg, South Africa and grew up speaking English. He saw the Paradis show while on holiday in Paris seven years ago, and was auditioned and hired the same week. The troupe he leads, 10 girls and five guys, is about half French; les étrangers include two Russians, a former Miss Canary Islands and American singer Ursuline Kairson. Kairson's deep and gutsy voice she really belts it out on Piaf's "Hymne d'Amour" makes sparks fly in Paradis' latest show. She grew up singing gospel and Gregorian chants in the church choir in Chicago. After a spell on Broadway, she brought the show "Bubbling Brown Sugar" to Paris, and ended up on contract to the Le Paradis. "I asked my mum first," she explains. "She is a minister, and I wasn't sure if she would be happy seeing me on stage with all those bare breasts!" But mum came over, and all she saw was her daughter singing and the crowd applauding. Fifteen years later, Kairson is still amazed by the power of song. "For three minutes, nobody is thinking if you're a democrat, or a republican, or German or French. A lot of times the audiences don't even clap a lot, but I can see their eyes shine." |
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