The economics of topless acrobats
The girlfriend wanted to take me to a show while we were in Las Vegas, and we agreed upon Cirque du Soleil. But they had substantial brand extensions in the last few years: which one would we attend?
"I looked at all four. I think the one with the synchronized swimmers sounds least appealing. Are you in the mood for an 'adult-themed' performance?" she wrote.
I'd been to two Cirque du Soleil performances, one in Chicago as a summer associate in 1993, and to "Mystere" in Las Vegas in 2001, and enjoyed them both, so I was up for any of the four. "Zumanity" was the one playing and readily available that weekend, so "erotic circus" it was.
Alas, it sucked. And not in a good way. It wasn't that it was offensive, though it probably was; it was that it was boring. The speechless mimes and wordless music of other Soleils were replaced with puerile and predictable patter and insipid lyrics. To work, the unfunny comedy required much more alcohol than we had drank. Performances needed to be shoe-horned into the "erotic" theme, which was limiting, and rarely in a good way. And the performances simply weren't that enthralling. Fortunately, Slim was the first to make the decision that we should walk out in the middle, so I wasn't the one who looked like a fuddy-duddy. If I hadn't walked over to a blackjack table and won $500, the entire visit to the New York, New York casino would've been shot.
In retrospect, there were sound economic reasons why it was inevitable that "Zumanity" would not live up to previous Cirque du Soleil performances.
Imagine the supply and demand curves for circus performers. They're not quite fungible; there's a cardinal ranking out there. But the circus offers an employment package, and that price—reflecting wages, benefits, and working environment—attracts a certain level of quality.
Now the vendor is running an "adult-themed" circus. Working blue—and scantily clad or nude—is a definite change in working conditions. Some performers won't do it at any price. Others will demand a premium. (For an entertaining dramatization of this negotiation, see State and Main. A so-so movie, but it has my favorite non-Lionel-Hutz attorney character of all time, David Paymer as Marty Rossen.) The circus has a choice. It can pay a premium, and try to recoup through higher ticket prices. Unfortunately, making the circus adult-themed does limit the audience. While Las Vegas is generally adult-themed, some people are okay with alcohol and gambling, but not eroticism; and some people do bring their kids to other Soleil shows at the occasional casino that still encourages family visits. So the reduced demand prevents recouping a premium through higher ticket prices. (And, indeed, Zumanity prices were lower than those of other circuses in town, which also should've been a tip-off.) The alternative, then, is to throw a wider net into the talent pool to include lower-quality performers. And lower-quality performers were what we got.
There were exceptions. Some performers had sufficient bargaining leverage to negotiate nudity riders, and it wasn't coincidental that those were the most interesting acts: a conventionally-dressed-for-a-circus woman did impressive acrobatics and spun multiple hula-hoops while swinging from a rope in mid-air; a body-suited woman's gymnastic dance with a male partner would've been entertaining if not accompanied by a wretched ballad. But the topless dancers' performances were strictly meh, even when they were mid-air. (I was awfully curious what the intermediate talent was of the one chorus-girl who had successfully negotiated for spangly pasties, but not a full top, but we left before we found out.)
"I looked at all four. I think the one with the synchronized swimmers sounds least appealing. Are you in the mood for an 'adult-themed' performance?" she wrote.
I'd been to two Cirque du Soleil performances, one in Chicago as a summer associate in 1993, and to "Mystere" in Las Vegas in 2001, and enjoyed them both, so I was up for any of the four. "Zumanity" was the one playing and readily available that weekend, so "erotic circus" it was.
Alas, it sucked. And not in a good way. It wasn't that it was offensive, though it probably was; it was that it was boring. The speechless mimes and wordless music of other Soleils were replaced with puerile and predictable patter and insipid lyrics. To work, the unfunny comedy required much more alcohol than we had drank. Performances needed to be shoe-horned into the "erotic" theme, which was limiting, and rarely in a good way. And the performances simply weren't that enthralling. Fortunately, Slim was the first to make the decision that we should walk out in the middle, so I wasn't the one who looked like a fuddy-duddy. If I hadn't walked over to a blackjack table and won $500, the entire visit to the New York, New York casino would've been shot.
In retrospect, there were sound economic reasons why it was inevitable that "Zumanity" would not live up to previous Cirque du Soleil performances.
Imagine the supply and demand curves for circus performers. They're not quite fungible; there's a cardinal ranking out there. But the circus offers an employment package, and that price—reflecting wages, benefits, and working environment—attracts a certain level of quality.
Now the vendor is running an "adult-themed" circus. Working blue—and scantily clad or nude—is a definite change in working conditions. Some performers won't do it at any price. Others will demand a premium. (For an entertaining dramatization of this negotiation, see State and Main. A so-so movie, but it has my favorite non-Lionel-Hutz attorney character of all time, David Paymer as Marty Rossen.) The circus has a choice. It can pay a premium, and try to recoup through higher ticket prices. Unfortunately, making the circus adult-themed does limit the audience. While Las Vegas is generally adult-themed, some people are okay with alcohol and gambling, but not eroticism; and some people do bring their kids to other Soleil shows at the occasional casino that still encourages family visits. So the reduced demand prevents recouping a premium through higher ticket prices. (And, indeed, Zumanity prices were lower than those of other circuses in town, which also should've been a tip-off.) The alternative, then, is to throw a wider net into the talent pool to include lower-quality performers. And lower-quality performers were what we got.
There were exceptions. Some performers had sufficient bargaining leverage to negotiate nudity riders, and it wasn't coincidental that those were the most interesting acts: a conventionally-dressed-for-a-circus woman did impressive acrobatics and spun multiple hula-hoops while swinging from a rope in mid-air; a body-suited woman's gymnastic dance with a male partner would've been entertaining if not accompanied by a wretched ballad. But the topless dancers' performances were strictly meh, even when they were mid-air. (I was awfully curious what the intermediate talent was of the one chorus-girl who had successfully negotiated for spangly pasties, but not a full top, but we left before we found out.)