Slender, small-breasted women, mostly naked and elegantly shot, are seen performing at the famous Crazy Horse club in Paris, although they are more Degas-truthful offstage than in their chic, vampy routines. Tourists, couples, and solo voyeurs form the audience. Found touches of humor inflect the deadpan lucidity of veteran director Frederick Wiseman, who famously avoids narration and backstory. The result is a stylized but never inhuman X-ray of ritualized eroticism and of people making a “glamorous” living. 2012.

3.0 stars

— David Elliott

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