At GM Place on Monday, March 12

Christina Aguilera has been accused of lacking many things—taste, restraint, and a grasp of basic hygiene are just three that come to mind—but confidence isn't one of them. An hour into a spectacle that kept on giving right to the end, the artist alternately known as Xtina boldly announced "Welcome to the greatest show/Greatest show on Earth." No one could accuse her of overstating the case, considering that, at the time, she was strapped to a Barnum & Bailey–issue knife-thrower's wheel and surrounded by garishly attired stilt walkers, feathered fire jugglers, and lingerie-clad trapeze artists. There was also a Moulin Rouge escapee leading an oiled-up man-dog about on a leash and a balloon hawker in 19th-century fetishwear, but to mention them would be overkill, of which there was already plenty on this night. So was Christina Aguilera's first-ever visit to Vancouver indeed the greatest show on Earth? Well, that's debatable, but at times it seemed pretty damn close.

In the tradition of KISS, Marilyn Manson, and that ageless ode to plastic surgery known as Cher, the former Mouseketeer turned live music into high theatre. Over the course of the night, there were more costume changes than in the first seven cycles of America's Next Top Model. Roaring right into the woozy hip-hop jazz mash-up "Ain't No Other Man" off her retro-themed double disc Back to Basics, Aguilera first appeared all in white, sporting a top hat, come-fuck-me pumps, a haute couture blazer, and leggings that left zero to the imagination. Providing no shortage of visual stimulation were eight Red Bull–fuelled backup dancers and a 12-piece live band, all of whom were decked out in white suits inspired by the glory years of big band.

After a scratchtastically funky "Back in the Day", Aguilera disappeared backstage for the first of many times during the night, looking upon her return like Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch for "Understand", which eventually gave way to white hot pants that screamed streetwalker chic. At the half-hour mark, the theme suddenly went from Havana's Tropicana circa 1957 to grimy Prohibition-era gin joint, with the entire supporting cast changing into charcoal zoot suits and flapper dresses as nightclub chairs and tables were set up across the stage. The proceedings started with the tinny retro-jazzer "I Got Trouble", which featured video footage of Aguilera channelling Joan Crawford and then going on to answer the question, What does Xtina put behind her ears to attract men when she's in the washtub? (The answer, based on the visual evidence, is "her legs".) Seconds later, the JumboTron snapped back to reality, with Aguilera's suddenly bowler hat–clad keyboardist pounding at a vintage upright piano, and "Makes Me Wanna Pray" turned the Garage into the Cotton Club on a steamy Saturday night.

Preventing the music from getting lost in all the visual mayhem was Aguilera's insanely powerful voice. Like Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston, the diminutive bleached blond doesn't always understand the value of restraint. Why bother with a simple "Yeahhhhhh" when you can stretch it out longer than "Stairway to Heaven". But for all her vocal histrionics, the woman can sing. And it says something that she managed to overpower her crack band, which sounded like it had just jetted in from the funky side of Vegas.

In the end, the highlights were too many to count. Hauling a hapless dude out of the audience for the greasy striptease number "Nasty Naughty Boy" made for the night's most surreal moment; here's betting "Mike" didn't buy his ticket expecting to be strapped to the giant knife-thrower's wheel so a lingerie-clad Aguilera could straddle him while brandishing a whip. Even better was the call-and-response G.I. jump blues of "Candyman", which gave a sailor suit–clad Xtina the opportunity to unleash her inner Vargas girl. Sadly, there were no assless chaps to be seen during a curiously limp "Dirrty", but as spectacles went, you couldn't beat 12,000 preteens, bleached-blond cougars, Japanese exchange students, and sensitive Davie Village denizens belting out every word of the killer self-empowerment ballad "Beautiful". Things ended with a brilliant one-two money shot: a bruisingly metallic version of "Fighter", and the sight of 500 pounds of confetti being fired into the audience. If Aguilera looked like someone who firmly believed she'd put on the greatest show on Earth, it was hard to fault her.

If you think that enraged, bloated bald woman who's been attacking cars with an umbrella in Southern California is an unsightly, tragic car wreck, you should have seen the Pussycat Dolls' opening set.