"Crazy Horse" by Frederick Wiseman "Crazy Horse," Frederick Wiseman's new documentary, invites the viewer to contemplate the intricacies of the creative process, the daily rhythms of a complex organization and the tensions between artistic ambition and practicality - and also to look at very beautiful women wearing very little. A scene from "Crazy Horse," in which dancers' physiques are discussed with unsparing candor. A dancer with the revue's director, Philippe Decouflé, who is as passionate about his vision as any filmmaker or playwright. This is not the first time Mr. Wiseman has planted his camera at the intersection of the cerebral and the sensual. "Crazy Horse," a behind-the-scenes look at a famous Paris erotic revue (and at quite a few behinds) takes up themes that this supremely observant, subtly analytical filmmaker has explored before in films like "Ballet" (1995), "La Danse: The Paris Opera Ballet" (2009) and "Boxing Gym" (2010). In each case the graceful movement of particular bodies - at rest, at work, in rehearsal and in performance or competition - provides a counterpoint to the frenzy and inertia of the collective bodies in which they dwell. Crazy Horse, which opened in Paris in 1951, offers a particularly French blend of sophistication and vulgarity. The choreographers and directors speak in high-flown philosophical terms that don't seem nearly as profound, or as sexy, in the English subtitles. It's true that some of the numbers, like the club itself, have English names - "Baby Buns," to take one example - and that many are accompanied by Anglo-American pop songs of eclectic vintage. But the grinding, teasing and undulating are shrouded in gauzy Gallic abstractions that would be out of place at your local pole-dancing emporium: l"érotisme, la séduction, la beauté, le désir. And the enterprise, for all its familiar gentlemen's club trappings - Champagne bottles in buckets of ice on each table; enough red velvet to wrap all the bridges and monuments in Paris - takes itself seriously as an artistic endeavor. Crazy Horse's director, Philippe Decouflé, is as passionate about the integrity of his vision as any filmmaker or playwright, and his collaborators are, if anything, even more ardent. Ali Mahdavi, the fluttery, talkative artistic director (Mr. Decouflé"s lieutenant and to some extent rival) declares that the French government should make attendance at Crazy Horse mandatory for all citizens as an educational experience and an acknowledgment of the institution's place in the nation's cultural patrimony. It is as easy to chuckle at Mr. Mahdavi's rhetoric as it is to ogle the disciplined, good-humored dancers under his and Mr. Decouflé"s command. But putting on the show is a lot of work, and Mr. Wiseman's particular genius has always been to convey, through judicious editing and dogged filming, the tedium, busyness and quiet intensity of group labor. His camera is a fly on the wall at meetings where Mr. Decouflé argues in vain that the club should close while new dances are developed. Unobtrusively, but also with a delicious sense of prurience, the film takes us into the costume shop and the dressing rooms, where the nakedness of the performers is a matter of fact rather than display. We watch auditions, hearing the physiques of aspiring dancers discussed with unsparing candor, and witness rehearsals where the attention to detail is almost comical. We also greet the customers one evening: a lot of tourists, a lot of couples, a hum of unembarrassed anticipation. Whether the show lives up to their expectations or the grandiose claims that Mr. Mahdavi and his colleagues make for it, will be a matter of taste. Mr. Wiseman, a master of cutting and composition, is adept at providing aesthetic information without passing aesthetic judgment. It is possible to watch "Crazy Horse" in a state of baffled reverie, seduced by the fine-grained attention to technique and dubious about the merits of what the technique produces. Some of the dances, at least as captured on film, are both pretentious and beautiful. Others are silly (occasionally on purpose), and a few do seem to touch the lofty and mysterious realms of the sexual imagination. Mr. Wiseman contemplates it all with curiosity and tact. He has never been one to chase after inside stories or to pry into the psychology of the people he films. The patterns of their behavior in its institutional context has always been his primary concern and the major appeal of his work. That is certainly the case in "Crazy Horse," though there may be something about this particular institutional context that inspires especially intense examination. Directed and edited by Frederick Wiseman; director of photography, John Davey; produced by Pierre Olivier Bardet and Mr. Wiseman; released by Zipporah Films. At Film Forum, 209 West Houston Street, west of Avenue of the Americas, South Village. In English and French, with English subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 14 minutes.