Almost three decades after first hitting the stage, Hedwig Robinson remains an utterly unique character. A wannabe rock star who escaped communist East Berlin after botched gender reassignment surgery, she subsequently fell in with an American teenager who left her for solo stardom. Now trailing his stadium tour at whatever small venues will take her, she’s left with a lingering sense of bitterness, a sharp tongue and the titular angry inch.
It all sounds a bit depressing. And Hedwig, who frequently lashes out at her ex-drag queen husband Yitzhak, can be hard to like at times. But follow this raw, damaged character who yearns to be made whole and you’ll find a surprisingly tender exploration of identity, transformation and the nature of love.
Almost all the exposition comes from Seann Miley Moore’s Hedwig, who slips between German and American accents with varying degrees of success as they prowl the small stage with menacing sleaze. Fortunately, the story is merely scaffolding for Stephen Trask’s sublime score, which takes in campy torch songs, furious Stooges-like rockers and the showstopping glam rock opus ‘The Origin of Love’.
Musical director Victoria Falconer helms a crack four-piece band that propels the performance, throwing in some well-placed theremin to enhance the glittertrash vibe. And when Moore lets loose (aided by a fabulous Adam Noviello as the wounded Yitzhak), time seems to stop in the steamy Queen’s Theatre. Alternately defiant, meditative and downright joyous, Hedwig is a complex heroine still doing what she has always done best: survive.
Hedwig and the Angry Inch, The Queen’s Theatre, until 15 March