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Review: Hard-rocking Hedwig has heart, humanity to spare

Hedwig and the Angry Inch Where: Metro Studio Theatre When: To June 18 Rating: 4 1/2 stars (out of five) Playing a sexually-ambiguous rocker named Hedwig, Victoria鈥檚 Griffin Leonard Lea made a Sunset Boulevard-style entrance Thursday night at the Met
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Griffin Leonard Lea stars in Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Metro Studio Theatre to June 18.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Where: Metro Studio Theatre

When: To June 18

Rating: 4 1/2 stars (out of five)

Playing a sexually-ambiguous rocker named Hedwig, Victoria鈥檚 Griffin Leonard Lea made a Sunset Boulevard-style entrance Thursday night at the Metro Studio.

Lea, wearing a gravity-defying blond wig, slipped in through an听exit door, stage left, then descended a flight of stairs. With regal aplomb, the actor-singer opened up his character鈥檚 spectacular cape in the manner of听a metamorphosing butterfly鈥 that is, if a butterflies are capable of drag-queen attitude.

In case anyone still doubted who was in charge, Lea ended his gambit with a two-fisted middle-finger salute. A daunting figure in six-inch-high white platform boots and matching fishnets, his aim was to dominate the theatre absolutely. In this he succeeded 鈥 and managed to keep it up for the duration of the show.

Atomic Vaudeville has opened an entertaining and appropriately hard-rocking version of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, the 1998 musical by John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask. Constructed around the conceit that we鈥檙e attending a concert, the听audience gets the autobiographical tale of Hedwig, a German singer whose anger and sardonic wit stem from a botched sex-change operation. We learn she underwent the procedure to please an American soldier 鈥 the pair married and relocated from Germany to the United States. The 鈥渁ngry inch鈥 is both the name of Hedwig鈥檚 band and a concise description of what remains of her ruined genitalia.

We absorb Hedwig鈥檚 story in听bits and pieces. Her former boyfriend, Tommy Gnosis, has become a big rock star (occasionally a door is opened and we hear Tommy鈥檚 screaming fans at a concert he鈥檚 giving nearby). Hedwig is aggrieved because (1) she wrote all Tommy鈥檚 best songs, and (2) he not only dumped her but fails to give Hedwig any credit for his success. Meanwhile, one of her band members is a Jewish drag queen called Yitzhak (powerfully sung by Jana Morrison) who happens to be her current husband. Hedwig treats Yitzhak with disdain, mostly because she鈥檚 jealous of his singing abilities.

The role of Hedwig is huge 鈥 she delivers 98 per cent of the dialogue; she sings most of the songs. She鈥檚 a character of brobdingnagian proportions. Any听performer brave enough to tackle the role must be able to generate Hedwig鈥檚 rock hero charisma, big enough to fill a stadium even if she鈥檚 playing a dingy little dive. Lea knows this and possesses the talent to make it happen. He conveys Hedwig鈥檚 anguish, her bitterness, her twisted intelligence. And he convincingly lobs such drag-queen witticism as: 鈥淲hen it comes to huge openings a lot of people think of me.鈥

The audience is made aware of听Hedwig鈥檚 cruelty; at the same time, Lea finds the character鈥檚 tenderness and vulnerability, which is essential to making the show work. He and the rest of the cast are deftly directed by Britt Small, who shows a firm understanding of what this musical is about. In particular, she has encouraged an authentic rock 鈥檔鈥 aesthetic from a superbly tight band consisting of drummer Andrew Taylor, bassist Michael Huerta, guitarist Blair Hansen and keyboardist/guitarist Charles Appleton. The songs 鈥 influenced by the likes of Iggy Pop and David听Bowie 鈥 are tuneful, clever and dispatched with high-decibel enthusiasm (the faint-of-heart are advised to wear earplugs).

A sample lyric from the hard-rocking opening number, Tear Me Down, gives a flavour of the show: 鈥淚 rose from off of the doctor鈥檚 slab/Like Lazarus from the pit/Now everyone wants to take a听stab/And decorate me/With blood, graffiti and spit.鈥

Jimbo Insell鈥檚 costumes for Hedwig are outrageous fun. So are Bradley Taylor鈥檚 wigs, which include a towering Tina Turner monstrosity and a Cruella de Vil beehive.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch is built on a series of seeming dichotomies. There鈥檚 Hedwig鈥檚 gender-fluidity, her cruel/kind persona, her East/West background, her combination of vulgarity and educated intelligence (her song The Origin of Love is based on a tale from Plato鈥檚 Symposium).

Ultimately this musical embraces a glam-rock philosophy in which society鈥檚 so-called misfits and cast-offs can feel not only included but celebrated. This is a good thing 鈥 as relevant today as 20 years ago. And, beneath all the bitchy bon mots and cymbal crashes, it gives Hedwig and the Angry Inch genuine heart and humanity.