Carole J. Bufford

Daring Dames of the Silver Screen

Birdland, NYC, October 24, 2025

Reviewed by Alix Cohen

A collection of Carole J. Bufford’s favorite femme fatale songs packed as much sizzle as a midnight tango. Though she’s a nice Georgia girl, she famously delivered innuendo with tart flirting, sinuous moves, and a wink.

“It’s so frustrating when you’re really into mating/And there ain’t a loving man around” she sang as she maneuvered across the stage. “The men got the muscle, but the ladies got the hustle/And the truth is starin’ in your face.” “Queen Bee” (Rupert Holmes).

Coming from a small-town Bufford told us she “got the majority of her singing divas from film.” Women dominated the business during the silent-movie era on screen and off, but with talkies came money and the control of men. She cited the ones who wrote their own rules.

“I’d Rather Be Blue” (Fred Fisher/Billy Rose), popularized by Fanny Brice, opened with stroked piano, segued to a soft shoe, and then swelled. It’s easy to imagine Bufford whipping a marabou boa forward and back for emphasis—not that she needs it.

“From 1933 to 1949, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made 10 films with 33 dance numbers. Astaire had 14 solos, Rogers had one. “We all know she did everything backwards and in high heels,” she told us. This exposition prefaced a honeyed, syncopated “Let Yourself Go” (Irving Berlin). Jerry DeVore’s bass and Daniel Glass’ drums conferred.

To my mind, Bufford has become one of our very best show writers. Her presentations are illuminating as well as entertaining. She shares anecdotes and lesser-known facts, which has enhanced all of her shows; she surprises.

Based on talent, verisimilitude, and experience, Lena Horne should have played Julie in Show Boat. The Hayes Code (listing rules for morality in motion pictures), however, dictated she couldn’t act opposite a White man. Ava Gardner was cast instead. “Stormy Weather” (Harold Arlen/Ted Koehler) bled into “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man” (Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein II). Long lined with emphasized vibrato, the songs emerged emotionally, not histrionically. A tough cookie hovered beneath the despair.

Bufford’s fingers snapped, and her hips bumped with a nod to Rita Hayworth in Gilda. “Put the Blame on Mame” (Allan Roberts/Doris Fisher) arrived with refined tease. She connected with the audience, leaned out, locked eyes. Performed by Marilyn Monroe in There’s No Business Like Show Business, Irving Berlin’s “After You Get What You Want (You Don’t Want It)” was breathy but not imitative.

Diana Ross went after the role of Billie Holiday in Lady Sings the Blues. Bufford’s take on Wesley Wilson’s “Gimme a Pigfoot (and a Bottle of Beer)” emerged a la red-hot mama. On piano, Ian Herman played honky-tonk as if he had cut his teeth on it. It was a great arrangement.

Appreciation of the recently deceased Diane Keaton appeared by way of an understated “Seems Like Old Times” (John Jacob Loeb/Carmen Lombardo). “Everyone else had this goddess thing going, but Keaton was messy and real,” Bufford noted. Accompanied by only piano, her vocal was pure in its sentiment.

1931’s “Ten Cents a Dance” (Richard Rodgers/Lorenz Hart) was performed on film by Barbara Stanwyck, Doris Day, and Michelle Pfeiffer. Bufford’s version expressed exhaustion, resignation, and frustration.

Carrie Fisher’s autobiographical Postcards from the Edge gave us the rockabilly “I’m Checkin’ Out” (Shel Silverstein). Debbie Reynolds wanted to play herself but was told she wasn’t right for it! Shirley MacLaine was cast and did a rip-roaring job. In the film, the number was sung by Meryl Streep. Bufford filtered this one through what was probably once a natural drawl. She’d be great with country music.

Having grown up with all Judy (Garland) all the time, Bufford closed with an intoxicating “Over the Rainbow” (Harold Arlen/E.Y. Harburg). This was another dynamic, beautifully wrought show by Carole J. Bufford.