Edna: gigastar. Humphries: genius
Dame Edna - Back with a Vengeance, Capitol Theatre, May 16-June 3; ph: 136 100
If Barbra Streisand, Elton John, Elizabeth Taylor, Oprah and the Queen have anything in common it is that, even collectively, they pale before the world's first - and only - gigastar. They probably quail too, but that's only normal. Being in the presence of Dame Edna Everage is enough to turn the greatest egos into giggling, terrified possums. Ask any member of an Edna audience, particularly those seated in the first three rows of the stalls.
Dame Edna is back in Sydney touring the show that celebrates her 50 years on the stage. Fifty years of torturing, skewering and otherwise minutely examining the foibles and failings of her fellow Australians. Whichever way you look at it, the achievement is immense. Most Australians of ticket-purchasing age have grown up never knowing a time before Edna. And still they flock to watch their fellow citizens risk humiliation and the revelation of their innermost life secrets.
Dame Edna unerringly picks the ones named Mavis or Rosemary (spelled R-O-S-E-M-A-R-Y - my favourite spelling of the name, Edna declares); and those whose occupation is - by their own description - "homemaker" (the new name for housewife, Edna advises the rest of us). Once upon a time Edna's pleasure was to discover, in front of a couple of thousand guffawing fans, that her chosen victim's bathroom fittings were newly installed and avocado in colour.
The unmistakable twist of the mobile Everage mouth, while the twinkling eyes - momentarily paralysed with horror - rake the audience in search of the like-minded to share such a revelation has to be seen and savoured to be fully understood. When Edna finally endows the Norm Everage Chair of Social Studies at Melbourne University, someone has a PhD ready and waiting in the study of why it is otherwise sensible people feel compelled to tell Edna the truth when a simple fib would save them so much suffering. Having said that, however, many will recall audiences with Edna when some hapless creature has been lured into answering to the affectionate nickname "Fibber" - thus proving what Edna had been saying all along: that he or she was a sociopathic liar and not to be trusted.
That the formula of the Everage show has remained largely unchanged over the years is both part of the charm and part of the genius of Barry Humphries - the man behind the monster. It's classic vaudeville with torture of fellow human beings thrown in to keep the ordinary folk happy. Emperor Nero would instantly recognise the recipe. After a rousing welcome from Edna the evening gets off to a spittle- and expletive-laden start with the arrival of Sir Les Patterson. It's astonishing that the Blair government has never seen fit to bestow a life peerage on a man who has done so much for Australo-UK relations and the arts in general. It does mean, however, that he is available to advise Macquarie Bank and other needy organisations (Qantas springs to mind).
The change of pace and focus that comes with the entrance of the late, still lamented, Sandy Stone of Glen Iris is an amazing thing. Stone embodies all that's decent and stultifyingly dull about the Australian suburbs. Once upon a time he would share his thoughts on life in Gallipoli Crescent - the home of the living dead. Now, his focus is the real thing: the prison-like retirement facilities of a country that cannot bear the idea of its seniors dribbling in public.
[page]It has long been said that the gentle, boring Sandy Stone is Humphries' greatest and most savage satirical creation. In this show, as he burbles on from his vantage point somewhere beyond the Mortal Coil, about life as an Australian old person, Sandy Stone delights and indicts in equal measure. Laughter becomes uncertain as a goodly percentage of the audience hears home truths such as: "She's a good girl. She visits her mother regularly as clockwork. Once a year." It's an extraordinary performance.
On opening night in Sydney, the Dame herself was as indefatigable, glittering and merciless as she's ever been. Her topicality is pretty much up to scratch although some extra target practice wouldn't go amiss. Dredging up Kerryn Phelps and Robyn Archer for a lesbian joke, for instance, suggests either that it's one which needs to be put out to grass or that there are no well known lesbians whose names might register better with a 2007 audience.
Edna had to work particularly hard for her Sydney opening night ovation (even though it's brazenly built into the show's structure). The repartee with audience members is reliant on the chance factors - such as avocado bathroom suites - that tickle the collective funny bones. Discovering that two victims lived in Northbridge wasn't enough to make the segment take flight and the Dame seemed curiously reluctant to seek other lines of questioning. She was not helped by a malfunctioning phone, which meant the traditional call to the relative of an on-stage victim went awry. At the same time, it served to demonstrate that 50 years perfecting ad libs and the ability to sail through technical glitches really counts on the night.
In a sense there is nothing left for Edna to achieve: she has attained gigastardom on a global scale. She has conquered New York. She has recently wrapped a series of shows for UK television in which she sings duets with - among others - Shirley Bassey, Debbie Harry and kd lang. (Are we talking victims or what?) She has had a Melbourne street named after her and the only downside to that is that it's not at the Paris end of Collins Street where little Kenny used to run the antique shop, Dead People's Gear.
At 74, Barry Humphries seems to be as addicted to the adrenaline rush of a live audience as ever. Humoresq Street, Moonee Ponds has never seemed so far away as when (according to Jacki Weaver who timed him) he took just 1.45 to do a complete change - for a final bow - from Edna in full war regalia to the louche, bow-tie and DJ of the man behind the masks. While shuffling out of the Capitol, trying to loosen jaw muscles knotted in the unaccustomed rictus of two hours non-stop laughter, long-time followers noted that this was the first time in memory that he had appeared As Himself. Significant? Who knows.
Edna is the gigastar but Humphries is the genius.
