Positioning musicians on stage during musicals is so hot right now and we’re all for it.
For this new Australian production of Hedwig And The Angry Inch, co-directors Shane Anthony and Dino Dimitriadis prioritised authenticity, casting genderqueer performer Seann Miley Moore in the titular role and non-binary singer/actor Adam Noviello as Yitzhak, her downtrodden husband. Noviello is also Moore’s understudy and we’d sure love to witness their take on Hedwig.
These players rock hard, engaging with the performers like a legit backing band.
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Aside from the muso contingent, this genderqueer rock musical is a two-hander. Hedwig barely leaves the stage and when Moore’s not belting technically demanding songs, he’s performing monologues in a detached fashion (“I laugh because I will cry if I don’t”). Through these monologues, we’re drip-fed unfiltered autobiographical detail about Hedwig’s upbringing and deadname: Hansel (“a slip of a girly boy”).
In order to marry an American soldier and flee East Germany, Hansel was coerced into undergoing (botched) gender reassignment surgery. Not just the name of Hedwig’s band, The Angry Inch also describes what remains, post-op.
Throughout, Hedwig’s witty repartee is littered with contemporary references ranging from J.K. Rowling to Pokémon. Audience participation includes hollering on cue, clapalongs and we’re even taught some fun arm-ography to perform from our seats.
An abundance of metallic-scarlet balloons descend upon the audience during Sugar Daddy – why is volleying balloons so much fun?
This gritty, unconventional musical is strictly 15-plus, as Hedwig reflects on problematic past relationships and hook-ups in graphic detail.
Moore performs with Freddie Murphy grandiosity, delivering Hedwig’s cheeky innuendos with suitable glee. Noviello’s Yitzhak is a numbed, intense presence. His gripping performance makes us ponder this musical’s dark, complex undercurrent – the cruel cycle of abuse – at length.
Hedwig married Yitzhak, a Croatian Jewish drag queen, on the proviso he never don a wig or perform in drag again. Yitzhak’s talent surpasses her own, so she’s actively nullifying the competition. When the downright-nasty Hedwig forces her husband to suppress his true identity, the abused becomes the abuser. Noviello brings quiet dignity to Yitzhak, and when he eventually drops an exasperated c-bomb – pushed way beyond his threshold – we cheer him on. Vocally majestic (especially during The Long Grift, toward show’s end), Noviello is totally dialled in.
Every time the set’s upstage door opens, blinding light streams in as we hear Tommy Gnosis – a former paramour, who stole Hedwig’s songs to pass off as his own – performing in a nearby stadium. These song snippets are clearly inspired by Hedwig’s own life experiences and her bitterness is palpable.
Hedwig is a survivor – her scars and “angry inch” are permanent, unwanted reminders of that – but she’s also hard to like at times, which is fascinating to watch. There’s eventual spiritual awakening and the payoff is huge.
It’s a precarious time in history for the trans and gender-diverse community, particularly in the US under the Trump administration, which makes right now the perfect time to stage this show. In light of the continuing erosion of women and trans people’s bodily autonomy, Hedwig And The Angry Inch remains pertinent as ever.
If we could choose a song to soundtrack the way we feel strutting out through the theatre doors, post-show, it would be I’m Every Woman – Chaka Khan’s version.
Hedwig And The Angry Inch plays at the Athenaeum until 29 June before moving to Sydney for a season at Carriageworks from 18 July.
