Review: Why Grandma, What Big Pasties You Have! and Other Cheeky Delights at Petite Rouge

It’s easy for us to feel that, to embellish a line from Wordsworth, the world is much too much with us nowadays, and I for one regularly find myself wanting—nay, needing—to get away from the hurly-burly of it all. Life as a theater critic does allow me the occasional respite, but rarely does it let me completely forget the world outside.

Thank the stars for Company XIV. Founded by Austin McCormick 20 years ago, this magical theater troupe has been creating transportive burlesque performances that channel French Decadent realness into distinctly adult versions of classic stories like Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland—tasty entertainments that titillate like naughty-shaped lollipops.

Petite Rouge, McCormick’s latest confection, explores, as you correctly guessed, Charles Perrault’s fairy tale Le Petite Chaperon Rouge (“Little Red Riding Hood”) through a mature lens. Like previous Company XIV productions, this one is not for les enfants. It blends the sultry ambiance of the Moulin Rouge, the sumptuousness of Versailles, and the velvety, red-lit coquetry of a high-class bordello—in Bushwick!

This grownup-fairy-tale adventure, which runs at the company’s bespoke Théâtre XIV, begins at the door as you enter into the warm crimson glow and incensed haze of the antechamber, where bartenders await with delicious concoctions like the “McCormick Martini” and the “Little Pig” (two of my favorites). Dazzling ushers (sparingly appareled by Zane Pihlström in seductive garters, magnificent heels, and sparkly pasties) escort guests and their cocktails to their seats to await the performance; they all perform onstage later as well.

New to the company’s usual entertainments are the Divination Divas, Rosebud and Gereve, who, at your request, will guide you to the parlor to tell your fortune. Traditionalists may opt for tarot cards, but I chose a lip reading, which required that I apply lipstick and leave an imprint on a napkin (here’s your chance, fellas, you know you want to). Rosebud gave my partner and me uncannily accurate readings. Divinations cost extra, but they’re great fun. The venue opens one hour before curtain, so arrive early to take advantage of this experience.

The show itself, a brand-new production for the company, bears McCormick’s signature carnivalesque storytelling style: 19th-century-style placards announce the scenes, chanteuses (Lindsay Rose and Pepper Solana) sensually sashay into the audience, trapeze and moon lyra artists (Nicholas Katen and Alexandre Barranco) twirl thrillingly above, and a bohemian heartbeat pulsates through it all. This is both an homage to and a renewal of the hedonistic spirit of the Moulin Rouge, complete with an all-gender cancan.

As for the story itself, we see Petite Rouge (a deceptively innocent Cara Seymour) delivering wine and cakes to Grand-mère (a hilarious PhillVonAwesome) while trying, at first, to evade the hungry eyes of the hunky Wolf (Shawn Lesniak—woof!) and his pack of horny hounds (Colin Heininger and Tomislav Nevistic) as they leap from a wardrobe in one of the sexiest scenes McCormick has ever staged. Throughout this carnal fantasy, Rose and Solana belt plot-appropriate songs like Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy,” Lady Gaga’s “Monster,” and the showstopping Act 2 opener, “Lady in Red.” Julian Evans’s smooth sound design allows their voices to seep into your soul.

In McCormick’s version of the tale, though, Petite Rouge is no shrinking naïf, and she knows how to handle these handsy animals. “Wolves beware when beauties roam,” says the narrator (Neil Dickson), “for they may wear your fur back home.” Devin Cameron’s lighting casts seductive shadows and silhouettes as Grand-mère, behaving scandalously, and Petite Rouge, poised like a dominatrix, pet the muscly beasts before standing on their backs—in heels. Good boy!

At the end of the evening, I had to coax the teacup and saucer from the hands of my partner (he had been sipping a “Fortune Teller” cocktail) and remind him that, no, it was not possible for us to live there. Alas. Still, as we exited the theater into the Brooklyn night, we took comfort in knowing that, for a few hours at least, we had escaped the big bad world for a while.