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Oozing sex appeal, Cuban women picked for their beauty and stature slink across the stage in elaborate headdresses and little else.

Singers, acrobats and dancers perform too, but the showgirls are the main attraction of the revue that has lured hundreds of tourists nightly to the storied Tropicana nightclub for nearly a decade -- indeed, flesh has been the biggest draw throughout the outdoor cabaret's history.

"People associate the Tropicana with showgirls," says the nightclub's spokesman, Juan Carlos Aguilar.

Yet the Tropicana is closing the racy show that has entertained foreigners since the communist government began courting tourists in the 1990s.

It will be replaced with Tambores en Concierto -- Drums in Concert -- a spectacle that, while retaining the spirit of Cuban sensuality, will drop some of the more blatant skin-baring.

"It's time to make some changes," says Tomas Morales, a dancer, choreographer and director who created the show that takes the stage next April.

His show will keep a live ensemble of Cuban musicians on one part of the multitiered stage, along with acrobats and some showgirls. And the royal palm, bamboo and fruit trees that canopy the stage still will provide "a breath of exoticism," says Aguilar, the club spokesman.

But the similarities end there.

The new show will be more theatrical, with increased emphasis on stage sets and technology, Morales says. The story revolves around a male dancer who emerges from a drum to become "the drum's ghost," and then guides the audience through different music and dance acts, "taking you to the roots of Cuba," he says.

This is not the first time that the Tropicana has been reinvented.

In the 1940s and 1950s, American tourists frequented the club, which was known for its casinos, all-night partying and visiting international stars like Liberace, Nat King Cole and Carmen Miranda. The Tropicana chartered planes, with dancers and musicians aboard, to fly in tourists from Miami.

Cars were raffled off on stage. Spectacular revues changed every two months and included circus acts, voodoo-inspired shows, even live cockfights.

But Fidel Castro's 1959 revolution squelched the revelry. The casinos disappeared, as did the American mobsters who had a stake in them. A drop in the money coming in meant less extravagant shows and fewer performers from abroad.

Then in 1968, the government shut the Tropicana and all other Cuban cabarets.

"It wasn't clear whether [the cabaret] should continue as a product within the life we were leading after the revolution, or if it was an element too tied to the decadence of a class that no longer dominated the country. Eventually the idea that it was a cultural product won out," Aguilar says.

The Tropicana reopened in 1970. But without American tourists, the shows catered to Cuban audiences, incorporating Spanish dialogue and more theatrical acts.

Late-night performances lasted until dawn.

"We Cubans like to party all night," says Fernando Valdes, who joined the dance company in 1974 and now directs the Tropicana's school for cabaret performers.

By the 1980s, tourists began trickling back to Cuba and, after the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, the government embraced tourism as a way to bring in revenue lost when aid from the Soviet bloc dried up.

The Tropicana also went on the road, travelling in 1988 to perform on Broadway and at the United Nations headquarters on its first trip to the United States since the revolution. It has also played in Monaco, London and Toronto.

Every night, 300 to 600 guests -- mostly foreigners -- fill the Tropicana, where waiters in black tie serve food and drinks under the stars.

Tickets ranging from $80 to $8,100 are too expensive for most Cubans, whose wages average about $24 a month. But dozens of Cubans artists and politically active young people are invited to the show each night at a much reduced rate, Aguilar says.

"You can tell there are Cubans because they're the ones who get up and dance after the show's over," he adds.

Many visitors believe a Cuba trip isn't complete without experiencing the Tropicana.

"It would be like going to Paris and not going to the Moulin Rouge," says Juan Antonio Merino Ayllon, a 53-year-old businessman from Malaga, Spain. "You've just got to do it."

Not everyone, however, loves the show.

"Too many girls in skimpy clothes -- and not enough men," says Nicola Caine, a 29-year-old nurse from Yorkshire, England. "It's not my cup of tea. I guess you can always say you've been."

The Tropicana: 53 (7) 2671010. The club is located in Marianao, a western suburb of Havana. A decent seat will cost around $100 (U.S.), but includes a bottle of rum. Most hotels will reserve seats for guests.