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Saturday, November 25, 2006
Listen for the Music, Look for the Muscles
By GINIA BELLAFANTE
Published: November 24, 2006

Will Madonna ever get old? She may acquire more gravitas, continue to mature emotionally and find greater meaning in her work with kabbalah, but will she ever come to look arthritic, puffy, menopausal? This increasingly seems doubtful. Madonna no longer reinvents, she maintains.

It is the sheer spectacularity of her physical form, the near menacing force of it, and largely that alone, that sustains your attention in “Madonna: The Confessions Tour, Live From London,” the two-hour film of a concert she gave at the Wembley Arena in London this past summer, which was broadcast on NBC Wednesday night and will be shown on Bravo next week.

With each tour Madonna has embarked on in recent years, her deltoids appear to have grown more regally expansive, robust and winglike. Toward the end of the Wembley show, part of a worldwide tour pegged to her album “Confessions on a Dance Floor,” Madonna sings one of the hits from it, “Hung Up,” a song about a woman who migrates between boredom and agony as she waits for a man to call. But who could this man possibly be? Unless Madonna is expecting a call from Wladimir Klitschko about meeting him in the ring, the sight of her singing a song like this, in a leotard no less, leaves you feeling as you might if you were forced to watch Ethel Merman trying to impersonate Chet Baker.

The show pays tribute to Madonna’s current and former selves and does so with dizzying jump cuts and all the spectacle — the acrobatics, playground sets, endless costume changes — that have become the hallmark of her concerts.

Today, Madonna, who is 48, is a concerned citizen of the world. She has made African AIDS orphans one of her causes and wants to adopt a child from Malawi, causing some controversy. At one point in the concert, she sings “Live to Tell” against the backdrop of images of children in Africa and a speeding tally of the number who have been left parentless. But here again, her perfect musculature produces a kind of dissonance. Madonna doesn’t have an altruist’s body, she has a denier’s. What you’re tallying in your head when you watch her dance with the strength and agility of a 19-year-old are the number of hours she spends each day practicing Ashtanga yoga, running hills and bench-pressing the weight of a Regency table. You are tallying all the calories that Madonna is not eating.

In addition to keeping up her legendary physical regimen, Madonna now also rides horses on her country estate in England. Some critics have seen this as another aspect of her Anglophilic pretensions, but what is really surprising is that it took her so long to cotton to a sport so steeped in the dynamic of submission and control. Madonna the equestrian seems the most inevitable Madonna of all. Perhaps realizing that on some level, she opened her Wembley show looking as if she were about to ride in a reimagining of Ascot. She danced around, directing men on all fours before she rode an apparatus meant to look like an electric horse.

Madonna travels backward in the show to the beginning of her career, the time before she was encumbered with the need to do good. The documentary “I’m Going to Tell You a Secret,” which follows her on her 2004 world tour, reveals a Madonna who wants to learn all the time, who hugs her assistant and dancers, who wishes she’d been nicer to people when she was young. Perhaps she knows that many in her audience miss the Madonna of so many Madonnas ago, the one who refused refinement and probably thought Oxford was just an insurance company.

“The Confessions Tour” gets deeper and deeper into her early disco years as it progresses, with Madonna getting in and out of a “Saturday Night Fever” tuxedo and Jane Fonda-esque aerobics gear before it’s all over, as if to tell us that sometimes, yes, she misses herself too.
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