Not much has changed since Crazy Horse Paris changed owners and gave the show a new title (the revue opened as La Femme). The opening number still has dancers marching topless in revealing military uniforms. The result: much booby bouncing to remind viewers that Crazy Horse’s stars are more natural than the silicone- and saline-sacked showgirls elsewhere. Otherwise, though, Crazy Horse Paris has not aged well, engaging in chorus lines and individual production spots that still seem like the hippest thing the ’50s had to offer in Paris.

The striptease is less prevalent than the moments of full topless dancing, but repetition dulls the experience, with everything lasting an entire song before rotating to the next number. The emphasis is still on sensuality over overt sexuality, but Zumanity does that much better. The less said about the novelty act (which has gone from mock Michael Jackson to mock Elvis Presley) the better—beyond: good time for a bathroom break.

Crazy Horse Paris brings together some of the most flawless showgirls on the Strip, all with top-level dance skills; yet it manages a production that can bore a heterosexual man to sleep. That is some sort of accomplishment.