Unlike many of my fellow movie enthusiasts, I'm not a habitual re-watcher. Typically, one or at most two viewings of a film suffice for me; it takes the passage of several years for me to forget the key details before I even consider a third viewing. However, there are exceptions, some more significant than others. Recently, "The Zone of Interest" compelled me to watch it multiple times in the cinema as I unraveled its formal and thematic intricacies, each time with different revelations. But I've lost count of the number of times I've seen Steve Antin's relatively unremarkable 2010 musical "Burlesque," a film with no complexities to unravel, yet it still holds a strangely powerful grip on me.

An Unlikely Bond

If "Burlesque" appears on an in-flight entertainment menu - which happens surprisingly often - I'm reluctant to scroll past it. When it was on Netflix, the algorithm prominently pushed it on my home page, making it impolite not to take another look from time to time. (I can only assume it left the platform out of concern for my mental well-being.) Five years ago, when a storage-unit fire destroyed my entire DVD collection, my copy of Antin's film was the only survivor, having been packed into a separate, spared box by chance. It seems that "Burlesque" and I are bound by fate. Our connection is stronger than either of us.

The Critical Reception

Many who panned "Burlesque" upon its release would likely feel punished by this serendipitous choice of comfort movie. This patchwork quilt of backstage musicals and melodramas from different eras of Hollywood - starring dual divas Christina Aguilera and Cher in a desperate attempt to attract cross-generational gay fandom - inspired comparisons to "A Star is Born," "Cabaret," and "Showgirls," most of which were unflattering. It grossed $90 million at the global box office: not a failure but not a significant hit either, especially considering the feather budget could have funded a modest indie drama. Antin, whose pre-"Burlesque" career was long but scattered, ranging from acting to screenwriting to stunt work to producing "Pussycat Dolls" reality shows, hasn't directed another film since. The world, for the most part, hasn't mourned.

My First Encounter

My love for "Burlesque" was immediate and genuine ever since I first attended a sparsely attended London press screening, eager to witness what I hoped would be a high-camp disaster. In terms of camp, it delivered abundantly. Initially disappointed by the lack of a car crash element, I was increasingly delighted to discover that it was assembled with wit, sincerity, and genuine Hollywood know-how. Its songcraft, choreography, and visual design were all top-notch. Antin could stage a musical number with more energy, sparkle, and pop than many of his more prestigious peers.

The Nature of the Film

Is "Burlesque" a silly film? Well, it's about an aspiring singer from Dungwater, Iowa, who achieves her dreams by working at a struggling Los Angeles burlesque club, so that's obvious. But it's not a stupid one: its clichés have been carefully studied and borrowed from its Hollywood predecessors without a hint of postmodern mockery. It goes out to entertain with the same earnest "let's-put-on-a-show" spirit as its characters. Its story is a thin and simple thing - equally flimsy when focused on mediocre romance or corporate skulduggery, but on the latter front, it did educate a generation of real-estate novices about the potential of air rights. Regardless, it's solidly conventional enough to carry the weight of its sequins, spotlights, and backup dancers.

The Dueling Performances

Most importantly, it sets the stage for a series of increasingly hilarious confrontations between Aguilera's naive ingenue and Cher's weathered but unwaveringly fabulous club owner - with the older, Oscar-winning star being handed each confrontation on a platter of diamonds. Over the years, I've grown more tolerant of Aguilera's hungry, stiffly delivered performance - you can sense the actor and the character both desperately auditioning. But it stands to reason that any film so devoted to old-school hustle, showmanship, and diva-dom must also be deeply in love with Cher - a great actor when she's bothered, which has been too rare since her late-80s prime.

Cher's Dominance

Without an imperious strut, she wraps "Burlesque" around herself, from her lazy, languid opening number to her powerful rendition of a Diane Warren ballad, to the throaty conviction with which she delivers a line as absurd as, "Remember all those times I held your hair back as you vomited up everything but your memories." In these moments, "Burlesque" teeters on the edge of forced camp, but never crosses it. The delivery is never snarky or dismissive; the viewer is given the first and last laugh. The fact that a wonderfully game Stanley Tucci plays Cher's doting assistant and sparring partner exemplifies how everything in "Burlesque" is that much more vibrant and excellent.

A Glimpse into the Past

Today, "Burlesque" looks more like a glittering remnant of multiple obsolete showbiz eras: not just a slimmer, simpler version of the Hollywood musical; an act of pop-star branding that predates the era of online fan armies; a queer-targeted studio entertainment without the self-congratulatory humorlessness of rainbow capitalism; a sparkly souvenir of that strange moment in culture when burlesque went mainstream in a tamer way. "Show me how you burlesque," Aguilera wails in the film's frenetic closing number with such intensity that we'd be inclined to follow her lead if we could just make sense of the lyrics. How do you burlesque? I don't know, but "Burlesque" does, and it does it to the fullest. Let's play it again.

Burlesque is available to watch on Netflix in the US and on Sky Cinema in the UK.