In the flesh Mariah Carey has a smile so wide, so captivating it almost makes you want to believe her larger-than-life world of glamorous videos, around-the-world sophistication and ever thinning waistline is as real as the $75 ticket it took to get a glimpse of it. Almost.
Back in Chicago for her first show in nearly seven years, the world's most popular female artist - 128 million records and counting - couldn't just be herself; she had to be everything at once, the 'milk-and-cookies' doll ("Emotions") and the devilish hip-hop seductress ("Honey").
Her shockingly devoted young fans loved every second of the personality confusion; anyone who actually came for song could not overcome a startlingly ill-conceived performance of nonsensical sketches, forced humor and stage gimmickry that overplayed every gaudy theatrical element except the music.
Was it the excruciatingly long intro sequence, playing off the Mariah/evil alter ego Bianca cat fight of her "Heartbreaker" video, that so evoked the cloying nature of her by the numbers set? A 'Divalicious' contest where Carey, under the guise of "Miss Understood" wins out over the misconceptions people have of her, only to break into a thematically unrelated version of "Dream Lover"?
Wouldn't "My All" or "Whatever It Takes" have made more sense? The same forced tears during the ballad "Petals" that she displayed at her three previous dates? Hard to say exactly. But pacing throughout the two and half hour mess was a little off: Carey barely got through six songs in the first hour (two of which, "Heartbreaker" and "My All" weren't even finished), and the second's mish-mash of heavy-handed ballads and not-so overtly sexual dance numbers was even more befuddling in delivery than the first half's lack of it.
Where did the time go? Eight costume changes later, Carey did whatever she could not to have to sing, leaving the stage at least a dozen times during the performance to let her slick, well-tuned band and backup singers, cheeky dancers and actors cover for her while she maneuvered into her next 'how-did-she-fit-into-that?' outfit.
When she did sing it was clearly secondary to the surrounding hoopla knocking out transparent, dead-on interpretations of her recordings, punctured only by an incessant need for some chances to show off the shriek capacity of that signature five-octave range.
What was different was Carey's strange desire to ruin her own show, undercutting even the pleasant, sugary pieces of bubble gum like "Always Be My Baby" and "Fantasy" for grating interruptions. Who cuts into their own performance to have a mid-set champagne toast with her underage fans? Lapses during "Hero" to sign autographs? Let's a backup singer sing a wretched song called "I Want to Make You Happy" while the featured attraction sips tea and gets touched up backstage?
Someone who knows they can get away with it. Taking a break to let her drag queen make-up artist make her beautiful again (performing all of "Ex-Girlfriend" apparently wore her out), she smiled at the swooning crowd, then sighed "I'm just being real", she said. Almost.
Review: Brad Cawn
Photos: Stevie Styles
