A rock version of 'Advance Australia Fair' plays, John Cameron Mitchell strides out (22 June) in a fabulously angular black and white costume that would make Fischerspooner jealous and takes the mic.
Then he launches into 'The Origin Of Love', and the audience is his. It's a straight rendition of the song, one of the most tender moments of 'Hedwig And The Angry Inch' and one of the most beautiful songs I know.
But this is not to be a run through of the film's soundtrack – John takes some time to explain the lyrical content of the song, which is drawn from “a philosophical text disguised as a dinner party”. Throughout the evening, he tells formative stories about 'Hedwig' and himself (the two are irrevocably intertwined), as well as the musical and romantic partners who helped create the delightfully quirky theatre show and film.
This is the show’s world premiere, and there are a few kinks in the show that at times lacks rhythm as John consults his notes, but it’s hard to be mad at someone who cheekily sips a XXXX through a straw and addresses the audience as “ladies and gentlemen, and those of you unfettered by the binarchy.”
There’s no need to be familiar with the source material – John explains a number of plot points in depth – but I doubt there’s a single person in the audience who hasn't seen the film at least once.
It lies at the intersection of queer, punk and theatre, telling a story that's still transgressive and 'Wig In A Box' combines elements of all three. As it plays, John struts and marches around the stage with increasing vigour, leading a brief singalong with the audience and then ramping up the energy levels until he's lying on the stage panting with his trademark wig several feet away. It's one of the highlights of a night when energy levels vary wildly.
As John talks about some of the more tragic parts of his life, like the alcoholic boyfriend who was part of Trask's original band, he delivers the stories in a hushed tone and he turns the Festival Theatre into an intimate space as we hang on his every word, no mean feat.
Amber Martin plays the role of backup singer for most of the evening, but she’s a talented performer in her own right and takes centre stage for several tunes to showcase a voice of serious strength.
It's inevitable the politics intrudes on the evening at points, never more pointedly so than in the first part of the encore, a song about bridges and walls that takes a turn for the absurd as a trick with the mic stand goes awry, John kicks over Amber’s stand and throws his notes into the audience before later having to ask for them back, but he's laughing as hard as we are and it's easy to love watching this funny, charming and humble singer and storyteller. Then he closes with a song from his next musical – we're left with little else to go on except for the title, a fitting bookend to the opening number called 'The End Of Love'.
