On its surface, La Cage aux Folles is meant to be a silly show, like a more flamboyant version of Cabaret with even brighter outfits. How could it not be as a group of singers, known as Les Cagelles, take to the stage and sing a winking nod to their sexual ambiguity? Yes, everyone is dressed as women prancing before the Long Beach Playhouse audience underneath a sign bearing the fictional nightclub (and show's) name, but they want you to know that something's off. Some are women, but many are drag queens with elaborate schticks. It's campy, but it's the entryway to what goes on backstage. It's something touching, of a family who has come together when nobody else would accept them. While this LGBT show was groundbreaking during its Tony-winning days in 1983, it's a timeless story about understanding and tolerance that still resonates today more than ever.
The story centers around an unorthodox family: Georges (Stephen Alan Carver) and Albin (Noah Wagner). Albin is an aging drag queen who is coming to terms with her relevance, and Georges has to listen to her complain backstage as she puts on her glittery outfits and attempts to find the strength to go on. Their son Jean-Michel (John Vann) is seen as the outcast of the family not because anything is wrong with him, but that he's heterosexual in every way. With his potential plans to marry Anne Dindon (Kyra Olschewske), the daughter of France's lead conservative (Rick Kopps), there's a sense of disarray as Albin must learn to be more masculine while the notoriously flamboyant nightclub gets an overhaul with bawdy crucifixes and bland furniture that takes all of the personality out of the room. It's all so boring, and yet it's all in a ruse for Georges and Albin to make their son happy, sacrificing their own identities in the process.
The show's stroke of brilliance is in how it perceives these events. While it had been socially acceptable for the LGBT community to bend to the heterosexual lifestyle, it has rarely been depicted from their own perspective. It isn't just a story about how tragic it is to see Albin put on a suit to play "Cousin Albert." There's comedy in seeing her act against type, proving how difficult it is for people to change. It all works because it's a study of Georges and Albin's relationship, which hits familiar romantic beats as they try to understand how their son ended up straight. There's comedy in every note, but it comes with an underlying sincerity that shows how similar families are beyond their personal preferences. Gays don't give birth strictly to gay children, nor are they likely to be as flamboyant. Georges in most respects breaks the LGBT stereotype by being theater's version of a "straight man." There's no lisp, just a couple trying to understand what drew them to each other, such as in the recurring song "Song on the Sand."
This isn't to say that the show is lacking any source of comedy. The behind the scenes moments involving Les Cagelles is filled with small patters, such as one's love for using a whip (Halley Hardy) that leads her new boyfriend (Christian Koshay) to increasingly ridiculous injuries from a broken arm to a broken neck when things are "getting serious." The show has fun with these characters, allowing them to dress in flamboyant wear or short-shorts while providing advice that is sometimes vapid. Still, there's integrity to these moments that are charming, making them feel like real struggling artists trying to feel acceptance from their peers. They are also their own family, able to perform onstage in interstitial numbers that range from cheeky humor to outright chirping like birds while running up and down the aisles. It's a tad surreal, but those willing to embrace the show's nonsense are likely to find how these are all just trappings. It's merely entertainment, and everyone is just looking for that person to cheer them on.
As a whole, the cast of the Long Beach Playhouse production give every number a rousing execution. The campy numbers, such as the fun gender-blind opening number"We Are What We Are," dazzle the stage and allow the actors to vamp with ridiculous dance moves. There's also more serious numbers, such as "With Anne on My Arm," which establishes Jean-Michel's deep fondness for his fiance. Even then, the number is underlined by the presence of Georges and Albin staring in disbelief of their son, who has had many flings in his time, is finally starting a new family outside of theirs. It's a bit sad, especially with Albin struggling to feel relevant. There is also of course the show's most memorable number, "The Best of Times," which comes back at the end of the show as a rousing reminder not only of how fun the music was, but that it's important to enjoy life and not get hung up on a person's identity. Let them be themselves, for it is what makes life worth living.
The performances were all fairly charismatic, notably Wagner's Albin. Despite suffering from a faulty microphone that made many musical numbers choppy, he brought a depth to the character that grew with each moment. What started as a fading queen trying to merely perform slowly becomes an understanding of how Albin was motherly, giving an unconventional sense to Jean-Michel's life. It helps that Albin also has the biggest comedic moments, whether it's playful taunts at Georges, or having to "walk like John Wayne." The show never loses its sense of fun even as it gets into subject matter. It realizes early on that intolerance is absurd and flicks a nose at conventions. What's even more impressive is that it does it lovingly, willing to accept those who may not understand them in hopes of persuading. It's revolutionary in its sense of kindness presented through drag performances and slapstick.
As a whole, it's easy to see why La Cage aux Folles has enjoyed a successful run here (due to popular demand, it's playing an extra week). For starters, it's one of the most entertaining productions to come out of the theater in quite awhile. The performances are empathtic, the songs are catchy, and the wardrobe is fabulous. The show works at presenting an unconventional family story in a way that transcends boundaries and reminds us that love isn't about being a certain way. It's about what lies beneath. For any faults that the show has, it manages to be a rousing experience from beginning to end, forcing you not to laugh and cry. With all that said, there's no reason not to see it. It's a story that has felt relevant now for almost 40 years, and odds are that its message of understanding and tolerance will continue to be that way for another 40.
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