Theater Review - Hedwig and the Angry Inch: Wigging out

“Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown” goes the saying, and not since a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania has a man onstage been under so much pressure under so much hair as he who tackles Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

Playing Frank N. Furter in the Rocky Horror Show is a walk in the park compared with Hedwig. John Cameron Mitchell’s off-Broadway musical smash, which he successfully brought to film in 2001, essentially is a drag-queen show done as cabaret with a glam-punk edge – with a little Greek mythology thrown in for good measure. The wig isn’t the only thing on Hedwig; almost the entire success of the show rides on those locks.

Judging from the opening-night performance of the Actor’s Express remounting of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Craig Waldrip is not quite there yet. Hedwig’s a complex character, and not just because of the dubious gender and sexuality. He’s an unmitigated, volatile and fabulous mess, and Waldrip only scratches the surface of the role’s greatness. So why is this Hedwig still so entertaining? Because, just like in rock ‘n’ roll, sometimes it’s the effort that matters. And the music.

Directed by Freddie Ashley, Hedwig and the Angry Inch is told by the star from the confines of a dive, in this case Atlanta’s fictitious Tittycats Gentleman’s Club. From the stage to the stripper pole and back, Hedwig recounts his godforsaken life. After a dismal childhood as a boy growing up in East Berlin, Hedwig undergoes a botched sex-change, only to wind up with the “angry inch,” divorced and stuck in a Kansas trailer park.

Once a promising musician, “she” now plays in the shadow of her former lover, the rock star Tommy Gnosis, who (in one of a few locally tailored references) is playing nearby at Bobby Dodd Stadium.

He, too, leaves her behind. “He took the good stuff, and ran,” she laments in “Exquisite Corpse,” another testament that great pain leads to great art and great music.

As much glory as Mitchell’s received for writing and starring as Hedwig, the real star for me has always been Stephen Trask’s glam-rock musical score, and the band Actor’s Express put together for the Angry Inch is a rocking delight. The timpani-drum-style pounding of drummer Jen Lowe fuels the thunder behind “The Origin of Love”; the intricate picking of guitarist Clint Sowell conjures the country twang of “Sugar Daddy”; and the barrelhouse runs of keyboardist Mark W. Schroeder carry the pop tartness of “Wig in a Box.” And all of it thumps over Dan Bauman’s bass. When it comes time to turn the levels to 11, the band is ready.

And then there’s Angela Motter, who seems poised to make a career out of playing Yitzhak, the second of the gender-reversal roles as the music director of the Angry Inch and Hedwig’s indignant lover. (She’s also the lone returnee from Actor’s Express’ 2003 production.) Motter might not have the widest emotional range, but she knows how to sing and play the guitar from the heart. She hits the high notes that too often elude Waldrip’s flat baritone.

Waldrip’s performance is a curiosity considering his familiarity with campy drag roles; heck, he’s even played Frank N. Furter. To be fair, Hedwig’s in a different league as a character. There’s always been something rather scary about Hedwig. She’s as bitter as she is funny, a walking bag of paradoxes and emotional twists that can actually exhaust whomever plays her. But she’s also blessed with countless bawdy zingers and double entendres. (“When I think of all the people I have come upon in my travels,” Hedwig wistfully recalls, “I cannot help but think of the people who have come upon me.” If the actor nails half of Hedwig’s one-liners, the crowd will get behind him. (The Actor’s Express audience roared in appreciation of Waldrip more often than not.) He might not make folks forget Mark Salyer’s charismatic turn in 2003, but he gets what makes people laugh.

Hedwig’s downward emotional spiral can catch any actor off-guard as much as it does the audience, and Mitchell’s ambiguous (some might say cop-out) ending only adds to the challenge. Here’s to Waldrip growing into the role as the production develops.

What aren’t quite as forgivable are Hedwig’s costumes, which felt like an afterthought. Most Hedwig performances feature an over-the-top, graffiti-stained cape. Waldrip showed up in a cheap-looking swatch of silver lame over a get-up that, with its blue stars and red fringe epaulets, resembled a late-era Elvis jumpsuit. Only the red stripper shoes gave Waldrip any sizzle, and he deserves a medal for never falling down on the job.

So much of Hedwig and the Angry Inch is about the search for one’s true identity, to somehow find a way to be complete. Here’s to the rock star proving soon that she’s with the band.

(For more on Hedwig and the Angry Inch, check out PopSmart.)