It seems a shame that effort should so hurt a production, but the illusion of ease is critical to cabaret especially when the lead is supposed to be a beguiling and sexually emancipated woman. Virginia Gay’s obvious eagerness to please works against her badly.
The buxom Australian interpolates huge vocal belting with a dubitably interesting back story about her failure to become a successful television actress. The story loosely binds together the songs (all of them covers) and is itself bound together by a series of bad jokes. Unfortunately Gay’s self-consciousnesses does not translate into awareness of her audience’s mind or mood, meaning that she allows line after line to fall flat without doing anything to salvage the show.
And there is much that might be done. Gay’s vocals are fantastic: the range enormous, the tone cavernous and husky – she’s never nasal. She looks beautiful when she goes for the music and forgets the (badly lit, sparsely populated) audience. Her all-male band are good at their instruments, although sadly lacking in stage presence. The Famous Spiegeltent with its wood paneling and mirrored columns is just the location for such a show.
As it stands though, I continually find myself wondering: why am I here? Just to support Virginia Gay through this excruciating crisis of confidence? Even as she relaxes a bit towards the end she cannot properly be embraced, having alienated everyone with her clumsy use of the word faggot as a synonym for her name.
And then she screams jubilantly, “Who wants to be mainstream!” And I think, Stop trying so hard! And then she asks us to “Get your freaky thing out!” - and I clap because she sang well, and then I get out of there – fast.
