Why Drag Belongs at Lincoln Center
(And everywhere.)
“There’s power in being fucking terrifying,” said a fanged Miss Malice at Friday night’s performance of Vamp at the David Rubenstein Atrium.
It was the sixth annual vampire-themed drag show (because “queers love spooky shit”) by Brooklyn-based collective Switch ‘n’ Play. But it was the first year that Vamp graced one of Lincoln Center’s stages.
It’s a fact that felt significant. With several states set to ban drag performances, Vamp’s venue lent a kind of institutional legitimacy.
Also notable was the show’s gender diversity. Especially compared to, say, Ru Paul’s Drag Race. (Which, by the way, conflicted with Friday’s Vamp. Thank God for DVR.) Plus, I loved seeing sign language interpreters near the stage.
All the performers — Switch ‘n’ Play regulars K. James, Divina GranSparkle, Miss Malice, Nyx Nocturne, The Illustrious Pearl, Vigor Mortis, Zoe Ziegfeld, as well as guests Vander Von Odd, Iodine Quartz, and Sasha Velour — were fantastic.
But the first highlight of the night was the biblically hot James, who stripped all the way to a bejeweled jock strap without losing his stony-faced expression.
Especially breathtaking was Pearl, who did a fencing routine to Bjork’s “Joga” It felt all at once triumphant and sad and powerful. I can’t remember the last time I’ve cried at a drag performance like that.
GranSparkle wore what seemed like a Russian nesting doll of ‘fits. They came out, looking vaguely displeased, in a bejeweled black Snuggie, which they shed to reveal a pair of gold wings. Underneath, a sequin coral dress, then a one piece, then, finally, a pair of sparkly nipple pasties.
Ziegfeld — who is the Met Opera’s snake charmer and will appear in Champion playing a sex worker and bartender — was just as mesmerizing, though I kept missing their strip teases as I took notes.
However, I laughed the hardest at Mortis who, cloaked and ruffed, did these hilarious fake-out drops to “No Vampires Remain in Romania.”
But nothing prepared me for Velour who — transformed into that queer icon, the fruit bat — lip synched to “Na Na Hey Hey” by Bananarama. She shuffled around the stage in pointed ears and giant wings, feeding herself grapes.
I’ve seen a lot of chamber music, opera, and dance at Lincoln Center. But I’ve never experienced such a full spectrum of emotions as I did at Vamp. Nor seen performers do quintuple duty as singers, dancers, comedians, costume designers, and makeup artists.
They say opera is the ultimate art. But they’re wrong. Honey, it’s drag.
“Don’t you think this drag-burlesque-weird-gay-shit belongs at Lincoln Center?” asked Miss Malice at intermission. The audience cheered.
“Well,” she added, with a flip of her immaculately coiffured red hair. “We’re already here.”
Early that week, I’d gone to a more “underground” drag show called Portals. It was at Rubulad, one of the stranger venues I’ve been to in New York City.
With a “secret” Brooklyn address, Rubulad’s outdoor patio is decorated with psychadelic lawn ornaments, a metal slide, and giant tongue (yes, you read correctly).
But Portals took place on the indoor stage. Hosted by Theydy Bedbug — and produced by Excess Materials — it featured C’etait BonTemps, Om3n Onyx, Stevie Dicks, and God Complex (who I later learned was a special guest in Vamp’s Saturday night performance).
BonTemps’ performance was full of sexuality, as they strutted through the audience accruing tips. But I was moved in a very different way by Bedbug’s alphabet poem about freezing their eggs.
Dicks (whom I, fun fact, went to high school with) was exceptional as a melancholic clown, live singing “What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes. Belting “Oh my god do I try,” the performance expressed a kind of political desperation.
However, Complex truly shocked me (in the best way) as a satanic smoker, putting out a cigarette butt on their tongue.
Later, they reappeared with a latex mouth, which they ripped into to pull out a bunch of white feathers. It was grungy, perverse, and incredible.
At the end of the act, I looked down at the ground littered with crumpled dollar bills and feathers. It was, strangely, beautiful.
