Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Sure, I know. We all love to humblebrag about the absolute "insanity" of each of our lives, the sheer insufficiency of hours in our very important days, and the frantic pace at which we consistently conduct ourselves. To play on modern day jargon, "Slammed is the new cool." Yeah yeah. But truthfully, not really, though, if you ask me. Alas, I digress.
In any case, while I have indeed found myself sporadically busy, I have indeed not boasted the overused "slammed" label in the recent past. Sure, I went through a little bit of a life change for a moment there, recently. It's true. And I slugged my way through another season of planning. Hashtag media. Hashtag planning. (Insert: I am so over the incessant overuse of the hashtag. Whoops.) But so, yeah. Full transparency: I. Have. Not. Been. That. Busy. K, glad we got that on the table.
Ok, enough procrastination nation. On to the heart of the matter Bunnies. A few weeks ago admist my mediocre busy-ness, my so-so (no reference here to the oh-so-annoying new OITNB inmate) packed schedule, I had the honor, the luck, and the utmost amazing privilege of getting to attend what was, undoubtedly, one of the top five BEST Broadway shows I have seen in my theater-filled life. Hedwig and the Angry Inch was everything a flamboyant girl like me could ever want in a show. Fabulous drag, amazing moves, amazing heels, a drama-filled gay-trans plotline, and let's be real, Neil Patrick Harris. Again with the hashtag. But yeah, #nphlove. Now that does warrant a hashtag. Love you Neil. Heart.
Hedwig on Broadway was, for me, the absolute perfect storm of fabulous. It was the incomparable NPH, a little bit of Tommy rock and roll, a little bit of Kinky Boots, a touch of fashion and all other amazing things you could conjure wrapped up into one little package... with a big blonde bow to top it all off. A remake of the mid-90's off-Broadway piece and 2001 cinematic drag show, today's Angry Inch is a reinvention of the fabulous Ms. Hedwig. NPH portrays Hedwig, a Russian immigrant transgendered woman struggling with identities of many kinds: gender, human, sexual and songstress identity. I will not go into the nuance of every song, every act or every scene in this fucking fantastic show because, let's be real, if you want a real review, you ain't gona look to the Bunnylogue. Fabulous as it is. Am I right? But alas. NPH as Ms. Hedwig is a whole lot of amazing awesomeness. In Hedwig, there is zero trace of Barney, Doogie Howser is nowhere to be found, and the Tony-esque Neil the country has come to know and love is 100% unrecognizable. All you see is Hedwig, Hedwig, and more Hedwig. There is no compliment high enough for Harris' convincing, authentic and accurate portrayal of a character that bears zero resemblance to his usual characters and even less to his real-life persona.
Net net, if you have not seen Hedwig on Broadway yet, heed this advice. Run, do not walk, to the theater. Like, right now. Seriously. You have a mere two months or less to see NPH as Ms. Hedwig... and trust me when I say, it ain't gonna be the same after that. So go, people. And if you are lucky enough to snag tickets, report back on your thoughts. Until then, happy Wednesday, happy Hedwig and happy Summer. Cheers, Buns.