It's impossible to know if [Christina Aguilera's] actually acting, since the music-video cutting rhythms don't give her time to sustain so much as a compound sentence, not that the script provides any.

As Burlesque ground along its obvious and well-worn path, my inner voice indeed shouted, "Take it off," though my request was directed toward the projection booth rather than the dancers onstage.

Know that this grade reflects time, multiple viewings, and the ability to accept what shouldn’t work about this, and instead feels so campy. I have let it grow on me.

The glory of what Burlesque does well outshines any mistake.