THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
When La Cage Aux Folles premiered at the Palace Theatre on Broadway in 1983 (a production I was privileged to catch) there were three talking points: the "shock" of the kiss between the two male leads, the fact that a gay couple were presented as happy and normal, and the mystery of the Cagelles, the chorus line of Folies Bergere type dancers, where you couldn't guess their gender (there were girls in the line-up!).
It was big and brash and Broadway (arguably too grand for its setting of a cubbyhole drag joint in Saint-Tropez) but importantly it was a landmark in putting gay experience out there for a mainstream "bridge and tunnel" audience as they call them in New York. It was also mid Aids crisis and so its message of defiance and endurance had incredible resonance.
With drag now so central in our popular culture it seems like a different world, but is it? Odious and idiotic bans on drag clubs have cropped up again so it's not a bad time to reassess this show. What emerges in Tim Sheader's sparkling and affectionate revival is the sheer quality of Harvey Fierstein's book (a perfect farce) and his wonderfully tart dialogue. Every line hits home and it's a gold mine for this ensemble, whose comic timing is impeccable. The plot revolves around gay couple Georges, a club owner, and Albin, a drag performer at the club, who reluctantly agree to put on a performance of respectability so their son can impress his prospective in-laws.
The drag concept at play has moved with the times. These 'Cagelles' are all shapes, sizes, and colors making this show more RuPaul than Ladyboys. This isn't about "passing," it's about affirming one's individuality.
Ryan Dawson Laight's costumes switch elegant for gaudy, bordering at times on the grotesque, but their '70s feel is witty and they work across a range of great vaudeville numbers (bird themes, cod opera) not to mention the 'downtime' attire. Howard Hudson's lighting drowns us in pink and lavender hues which come into their own as the sun sets.
Stephen Mear's choreography is the perfect extension of Fierstein's humor, the detailing is delightful and the efforts of this motley bunch to appear to be keeping up is divinely witty. Sheader's direction keeps it all flowing at pace and never allows the sentiment to boil over. Not easy with Jerry Herman.
But what of the leads? It's an old-fashioned show so it's about the leads. They're great but in very different ways. Carl Mullaney who plays Albin/Zaza is a renowned cabaret host and drag artist in London (Kinky Kabaret, The Mighty Hoopla) and so is steeped in drag tradition. In the iconic hit from the show, 'I Am What I Am,' he goes beyond the 'attitude' to make the emotion hit home. It's only in the dramatic scenes where he falters somewhat, as if not switching gear fast enough. Billy Carter is a quiet triumph as Georges. His dry as dust delivery combined with a gloriously soft honeyed baritone make him really stand out.
Sheader's other big choice here is to set it in the North of England. One is reminded of Blackpool's vast Funny Girls drag theater/night club and the attitude here is very 'no nonsense Northern'. It mostly works but at one stage the great Debbie Kurup, as the host of Chez Jacqueline, practically corpses while getting her mouth round those Geordie vowels.
In a top-class ensemble the diminutive Hemi Yeroham as the Stage Manager and Shakeel Kimotho as the outrageously ambitious 'maid' Jacob steal the show, when they get a chance.
