Of all the abuse hurled in Madonna’s direction over her two-decade career, no-one has ever been able to fault her honesty. The “Sex” book, the actorly aspirations, the new-found adoration and endorsement of the Kabbalah – her almost embarrassing openness about her obsessions has always provided a soft underbelly for her unstoppably steely ambition.
The Re-Invention tour, whilst not, in actual fact, showcasing any significantly new looks or images, offers up her life as musical theatre, her career as entertainment in itself. It opens with “The Beast Within”, a chunk of Revelations previously released on a remix of “Justify My Love”. As dour as it is, it’s the perfect indicator to her current state of mind: “Blessed is he who reads aloud the words of the prophecy and blessed are those who hear…” There are no more mention of The Good Book, just a subtle plug for the Spirituality For Children (Kabbalah) charity and that omnipresent red string around her wrist.
The show is a celebration of all things Madonna, albeit less the sex since she became a self-confessed TV-banning strict mom. It falls into five sections, as determined by the costume changes. The opener comprises the glorious (and reputedly lip-synced) “Vogue” and solo “Nobody Knows Me” and “Frozen” in a spangly bustier and hotpants. The fatigues are donned for “American Life”, “Express Yourself”, first album oldie “Burning Up” and a mock-reluctant “Material Girl”.
Then, into stripy showgirl attire for “Hollywood”, the rehabilitated “Dick Tracy” track “Hanky Panky”, a sultry “Deeper And Deeper”, the defiantly un-John Barry-esque “Die Another Day” and the self-explanatory “Lament” from “Evita”, delivered in an electric chair. Pinstripes and hairnets are the garb for “Nothing Fails”, “Don’t Tell Me”, “Like A Prayer” and two-song lull of “Mother And Father” and – yep – “Imagine”. For the breathless final section it’s His’n’Hers maxi-kilts during “Into The (Hollywood) Groove”, “Papa Don’t Preach”, “Crazy For You”, “Music” and “Holiday”.
Since the Drowned World dates in 2001 she’s learnt how to play the guitar without looking at the fret board and her voice has swelled too, most noticeably on the earliest tracks in her formidable arsenal. The electric chair section (far more effective than when Eminem was forced to drop the pyrotechnics from his UK shows) is literal – here I am being punished for my defiance; here I am atoning with “Evita” and motherhood.
The kilt-lifting/knicker-flashing during the end section recalls “Carry On Up The Khyber”, perhaps in a nod to her husband’s humour and heritage, while the “Imagine” moment is not as awful as you might, er, imagine. She sings it with a genuine feel for the meaning and, however crass the backdrop of starving and wounded children might appear, her intention is true.
Most importantly, she appears to be revelling in every second. Where she avoided dancing on the Drowned World dates, preferring to sing her love songs for Guy atop a hay bale while young charges contorted around her, she matches everyone step for step this time out. Her energy at 46 is astonishing, the group choreography a triumph the West End would do well to replicate.
An epiphany comes during a reprise of “American Life”. After the opening line of “Do I have to change my name?” she admonishes the crowd, “Please don’t call me Esther!” and corpses completely, dramatically collapsing onto the stage as she loses her cue. It’s a fleeting glimpse into the real character behind the iconography, endearing in a way she never normally allows her self to be; undaunted, she jumps up, dashes stage right and launches into a lusty “Crazy For You”. The show must go on, after all.
With its self-referential themes of love, loss, atonement, religion and underwear, the Re-Invention tour establishes Madonna as the nearest thing in music to Tracy Emin and her unmade bed. In short, after twenty years in the business, she’s actually become a work of pop art.
