Domestic, Not Just Defiant

I’m terrified of drag queens.

Not in the pearl-clutching way that cares far too much about people in over-the-top costumes reading storybooks to children. My fear is about being singled out. I think of drag queens as bold. Aggressive. Intimidating. I worry they might try to embarrass me for laughs. Make me part of the act, without my consent.

So when the Cagelles came down the aisle at the top of La Cage aux Folles at The Carnegie, I thought: here we go.

The show starts before the theatre doors even open. The lobby bar space has been transformed into a pool deck — with cabanas and deck chairs and actors in caftans and lifeguard costumes dancing and having a good time. Eric Byrd, a frequent artist at The Carnegie, directed the pre-show, which I watched from a safe distance. One of the actors said to me, “There’s a party going on in there!” and I said, “Yep, which is why I’m out here.”

I tend to avoid things that are too immersive.

But the show itself is designed that way.

Rachel Stevens stages the show so that The Carnegie feels like a nightclub. Her direction is assured and, as always, story-first. Every character is clear. Every transition moves quickly, and several of them are inventively staged.

The plot is simple: a gay nightclub owner, Georges, and his partner and the star of the drag show, Albin, learn that their son wants to marry the daughter of a politician who would legislate them out of existence if he could. So, Albin is asked to hide to avoid angering the bride-to-be’s family.

It’s easy to follow. A little thin, even. That means every emotional beat has to matter to justify the big production numbers in between. Stevens makes sure they do, and her cast earns the sincerity the material requires.

If there was just one reason to see this show, it would be Josh Walden’s performance.

They are mesmerizing, hilarious, and moving, sometimes all at once. Their physicality is exact. Their commitment to character never wavers. And then there’s the voice — huge, full, and startlingly powerful without ever sounding forced.

There are actually many reasons this production is excellent, but here’s what I kept thinking about after it was over:

Walden doesn’t play Zaza as the kind of drag queen I fear. And they don’t do the easy thing, playing Albin as fragile and Zaza as strong. Instead, they inhabit the character as an authentic, multi-dimensional person who happens to be a remarkable performer. When Albin asserts himself, it’s strong without being scary. It could so easily have been binary: meek in the apartment, ferocious in the wig. Instead it’s one continuous person, full of nuance and humanity.

(By the way, Walden also choreographed the show, which is a remarkable feat. The choreography is everything you’d want and more, and they did it while carrying the lead of the show.)

Now, for those other reasons:

Kevin Kelly is the perfect straight man to Walden’s Zaza — pun intended. While funny in his own right, he understands the assignment is to keep things grounded and in doing so makes sure Albin is the one we’re watching. No matter how good Walden is, without a solid Georges, there’s no reason to care about any of it. Kelly’s performance gives us that reason.

Jack Haroutunian’s Jean-Michel continues a run I’ve been watching with real pleasure. From Grease at The Carnegie to Percy Jackson at CCM, he continues to excel as a performer. His future is bright.

Arden Allmon plays Anne, and every time I’ve seen her, she is always fully present. I never catch her not acting, but I never catch her acting either.

Denton Yockey and Sarah Folsom are hilarious as the Dindons, and watching Yockey’s character get exactly what’s coming to him is one of the great pleasures of the evening. Max Cadillac’s Jacob is ridiculous in the best ways. Brittany Hayes is strong as Jacqueline.

Sean Miller-Jones plays the stage manager and several other roles while understudying every adult male lead in the show, which is an absurd amount of work. He’s consistent the way he always is — he elevates everything he’s in. Kat Moser-Priddy, Jameson Zoller, and Morgan Lindell all fill out the world with professional-level performances.

And don’t forget the Cagelles (Connor Austin, Zoo Finkelstein, Benji Godley-Fisher, Sheldon Mba, Zay Tucker, and Way Wagoner). In a theatre this size, the big production numbers feel exactly right. The dancing is fabulous; these queens are the pulse of the show.

Kora Sline’s drag wig and makeup design, Candace Leyland’s additional wigs, and John Faas’s costumes are eye-popping. Tyler Gabbard’s set may be the best work he’s ever done. (I think I might say that every time, but it’s always so good.) Julie Cowger’s lighting and Dani Lobello’s sound are professional as always, and Jacob Priddy’s music direction holds the whole score together. Given the band is on two separate platforms, this is a remarkable accomplishment.

Somewhere during the show, I stopped worrying about the drag queens.

It happened naturally, as I was settled in, watching people do their jobs extremely well. At one point my face hurt from smiling and I guess I forgot that I was supposed to be worried about possibly being the butt of someone’s joke.

Then Babette, played by Zoo Finkelstein, came down the aisle and sat on my armrest.

On another night, with a different show, a moment like that could have ruined my night. But I was having too good of a time to care. (Plus, I was still in awe of some of the acrobatics Finkelstein pulled off earlier in the show.)

I actually kind of enjoyed it.

I realize my fear of drag queens is irrational. But I spent a long time in the closet and one of the things the closet does is teach you that being queer and visible is dangerous. The safest version of yourself is the smallest one.

Turns out, you can come out and still carry that baggage for years.

I think my fear might be because drag queens don’t seem to be afraid of anything. That confrontational energy scares me. But the thing this show argues — with nuance — is that queer joy isn’t just defiance. It’s also domestic. Albin isn’t only making a statement. He’s loving his kid and his husband and going to work. I really like that.

I went in with my guard up.

I left with my heart full.

That makes for a pretty special piece of theatre.

La Cage aux Folles runs through August 23rd at The Carnegie. Tickets and more can be found here.

Kirk Sheppard is a proud member of the American Theatre Critics/Journalists Association. He writes about Cincinnati theatre—but mostly about being human. Check out kirksheppard.com for more information.