Not for the first time in my life, I was surrounded by
scantily-clad males; their thick make-up, pore-clogging body glitter and
intimately-placed microphone packs forming the apex of my evening. With my
miner’s headlamp turned on full, foraging under the immense wig of Lady Bear
herself, my shaking fingers desperately fondling the thin stem of her headworn
mic in a vain attempt to get it to clip around her ear, I paused for a moment
to consider the words of David Byrne: how did I get here? My God, what have I
done?!
Such was my Saturday evening on the 11th October
in the Year of Our Lord Twenty-Fourteen. I wasn’t in the bowels of a Canal
Street flesh pit, nor off on a whistlestop tour of London’s Torture Garden; I
was lost in the green room for the Manchester finale of Peaches
Christ’s Bearbarella, a bespoke theatrical cinema performance taking cues
from Roger Vadim’s Barbarella, her
one-hour pre-show taking a captive audience to new highs (and lows) of camp
excess before a screening of Vadim’s insane 60s sci-fi spectacular. And as already noted, this was the second time I’d worked with the legendary San Francisco drag queen –
otherwise known as Joshua Granell – armed with her cohorts Hugz Bunny (Ric Ray)
and Shemantha (Sam Sharkey) under the production steerage of Bren O’Callaghan, a man so
passionate about the project that he battled influenza for the entire
three-date tour (both Belfast and Glasgow bore a brute force attack from the
be-Barbed Christmistress) before allegedly collapsing in a doctor’s surgery minutes
after the wrap party. He hasn’t been back to work since. Drama queen, much?
It’s inspiring in many ways that Cornerhouse – ever the bastion of
chin-stroking director Q&As and gallery exhibitions that by their very
nature can struggle to find an audience – can still put on a show like this
without batting a fake-lashed eyelid. Coming under the banner of the BFI’s Sci-Fi: Days of Fear and
Wonder season, it was in many ways a ridiculous show that outstripped
its predecessor, 2010’s Midnight
Mass, for sheer filth and debauchery. But when paired with the film, it
all slotted into place; Vadim’s absurd but visionary sexual adventure is in
many ways sillier than the pre-show that came before it, its high camp values a
perfect match for the performance that Peaches and Co. brought to the stage.
An array of superbly-outfitted Manchester drag queens filled
out the cast of characters, from the blind angel Go-Girl (Cheddar
Gawjus) to the lamé-caped Dildongo (Anna Phylactic),
all expertly choreographed by the Ultra
Violets. To see all this unfold from my vantage point behind the mixing
desk, headlamp’d up to the nines, adjusting mic levels under the watchful eye
of señor
Sharkey (a man who could well be considered the ultimate calm at the centre of
a very crazy storm) was nothing if not a pleasure. Any nerves I had dissipated
as soon as the curtain came up on Peaches, her fierce opening song kicking off
a succession of equally fierce lip-synced numbers, strung together by the lurid
sexual exploits of Lady Bear (whose real name remains a deliberate mystery).
There was even time for some audience participation in the form of The
Orgasmatron Challenge, though I guess the less said about that the better; what
happens with Peaches, stays with Peaches.
Whether it be for Cornerhouse, Abandon Normal Devices or for HOME in 2015, working on these insane events is one
of the reasons I love my day job. Unplanned emergencies, such as getting stage
lighting to work with less than three hours to go until showtime, are all part
of the fun; any stress falls by the wayside when you see a 300-strong audience
from a myriad catchment zones having an absolute ball on your watch. Gushing my
words may be, but for good reason – I loved it. And I’ll shout it from the roof
of my blog for all to hear.
Long live Peaches. x
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