Hedwig and the Angry Inch: Divina de Campo shines in a riotously camp revival

Alex Gibbon on 7 April 2022

It’s been 15 years since the last professional UK production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. With the media scrutiny of those who are gender non-conforming growing ever harsher and political rollbacks of LGBTQ+ rights cropping up left and right, it feels as though we need the smutty yet heartfelt musings of a genderqueer glam rocker more than ever. As Divina de Campo’s Hedwig proudly stands centre stage for the opening number, her fully extended denim cape emblazoned with the words ‘gender is a construct’, it becomes clear this production will be the antidote to contemporary toxicity.

Despite its humble off-Broadway beginnings and a box office bomb of a film adaptation, the musical has built a diehard cult following among Queer audiences akin to that of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. The story follows Hedwig, an ‘internationally ignored’ East German rock singer, who battles with the trauma of a botched gender-reassignment surgery she undergoes to escape her Soviet homeland. Abandoned by her husband in middle America, she starts a relationship with Tommy Gnosis, a young, inspiring musician who goes on to break her heart, steal her music and become a world-touring rock icon. We join Hedwig and her band, named after her scarred genital mound, as she performs on a tour that shadows Gnosis’ while retelling her tumultuous life story with witty candour.

For this gig, the entourage have pitched up in Leeds. Jamie Fletcher’s production cleverly tweaks the script (with nods to Richmond Hill and Roundhay Park) and the multi-faceted set design from Ben Stones is primarily a Working Men’s Club stroke Dive Bar. It is as impressive as it is charming that Fletcher has managed to marry the original show’s riotous camp with a self-deprecating Northern sensibility.

The main attraction is of course Hedwig herself. From the moment spotlight illuminates her at the back of the stalls, it is de Campo’s show. The Rupaul’s Drag Race UK runner-up struts down the aisles, pausing to bask in the audience’s rapturous reception. They nail the bravado and showmanship of a diva with delusions of grandeur but also capture Hedwig’s punk edge, gyrating, growling, and rasping for a rowdy 100 minutes. Racing through the script’s funniest lines, de Campo delivers the jokes with a lovable lewdness, occasionally deploying exaggerated Yorkshire tones to hilarious effect. They truly are the star turn.

Yet, as much as the rip-roaring rush of the show’s soundtrack is electrifyingly Rock N Roll, it is easy to get left in the dust. Lose yourself in the anarchy for just a moment and you run the risk of missing a lyric crucial to the plot. Though ultimately, the spectacle of de Campo slut-dropping in sync with a giant inflatable gummy bear is enough to render any confusion insignificant.

By the show’s end, de Campo has put to good use their well-known four octave range and has even squeezed in a quick cameo from the iconic red wig and silver dress. Hedwig’s regalia has been removed layer by layer as she bares herself to vulnerability both physically and emotionally. Fletcher’s production succeeds in stripping back the pretensions of gender, belonging, and ambition in a show that centres and champions those that do not conform. This musical is a tonic, albeit one that is bittersweet and fabulously dirty.

Dorian Electra brings high voltage hyperpop to Belgrave Music Hall

Alex Gibbon on 4 April 2022

Dorian Electra has brought the Queers out to play. The crowd is a multi-coloured sea of dyed hair, trans pride flags, and rainbow suspenders. Any sold-out show at Belgrave Music Hall is bound to conjure an atmosphere of excitement, but this rainbow brigade seems especially ready to get down and dirty.

Such a unique audience could only be drawn by an artist as innovative as Electra. The genderfluid popstar’s outlandish on-stage persona and intelligent caricature of masculinity has made them the doy-them of hyperpop performers. In a genre that thrives on collaboration, Electra has racked up an impressive roster of credits alongside 100 Gecs, Charli XCX, and even Lady Gaga. Their most recent album, 2020’s ‘My Agenda’, is a riotous collection of distorted and glitching pop bangers and masterfully blends Queer politics, meme culture, and experimental production. Electra’s range of influences is so broad and esoteric, it’s anyone guess what they will bring to the stage tonight.  

As the creepy and abrasive trills of show opener ‘F the World’ ring out, a silhouetted figure appears on stage. Through strobing neon lights, Electra can be seen in an ensemble best described as a sort of kinky Slenderthem: a long black PVC trenchcoat; devilishly pointed shoulder pads; taloned black gloves. Through both ‘M’lady’ and ‘Gentleman’, two technpop tracks that cleverly satirise the trope of the chivalrous man, the singer thrashes to the beat with flare. The constant oscillation of Electra’s shows between ridiculous camp and unnerving horror brings nothings but joy.

Launching into the middle third the set, Electra drives the show into pure pop overdrive. A speedy costume change sees them return as a scantily clad police chief flanked by two similarly bare-skinned dancers. The focus is now on Electra’s brighter first album ‘Flamboyant’ as the trio convulse in synchronisation to sticky melodic hooks and clattering synths. In fact, the outro of the album’s title track is where Electra’s vocals shine the brightest, drawing attention to how seldom their voice is gifted a spotlight amid the extravagance. Although, this does nothing to diminish their command of the stage. “Spell it out for Daddy”, Electra orders as the financially benevolent love interest during the tongue-in-cheek ‘Daddy Like’. The singing audience do as they are told.  

The tail end of the show sees Electra, now dressed as an anime-inspired army general, deliver their most aggressive material. With maximalist tracks such as ‘Ram It Down’, ‘Iron Fist’ and ‘My Agenda’, they juggle heavy metal, hardcore, dubstep and bubblegum bass to create the sound of sickly-sweet dystopian future. It’s enchanting and unnerving in equal measure.

For all the theatricality of a Dorian Electra show, the performer is smart to not rely solely on shock value. To see the deconstruction of masculinity from an artist between the binary enacted with such irreverent playfulness is nothing short of exhilarating. Make no mistake, this protest pop could be just the thing to kickstart a genderqueer revolution.

What a court case about a cake says of religious expression and LGBTQ rights in Northern Ireland

Maeve Preston on 21 February 2022

In 2014, a Christian-run bakery in Belfast sparked controversy when they refused to make a cake for local gay rights activist Gareth Lee emblazoned with the slogan “Support Gay Marriage”. The owners of Ashers Bakery argued  that the slogan contravened their religious beliefs. Mr Lee alleged that the bakery had discriminated against him for his sexual orientation, and thus a seven-year court battle began. Despite a Belfast County Court and Court of Appeal initially ruling in favour of Mr Lee, earlier this year the European Court of Human Rights ruled that his claim was inadmissible, and said they would not reconsider the decision of the UK Supreme Court, which had overturned a £500 damages award imposed on Ashers Bakery in 2018.  

The case has sparked outrage from LGBTQ organisations who support Mr Lee’s claims and fear that the UK Supreme Court and ECHR rulings are detrimental for human rights and LGBTQ freedoms in Northern Ireland. On the other hand, religious groups argue that the initial ruling by the Belfast County Court in favour of Mr Lee represented an affront to free religious expression, by suggesting that the bakery should have produced a cake which went against their personal religious beliefs.  

The McArthurs – the owners of Ashers Bakery – are evangelical Christians. The main argument employed by those who supported their right to decline making the cake was that the proposed message contravened their political and religious beliefs. In other words, the McArthurs were not discriminating against Mr Lee for being gay, rather they were exercising their right to freedom of thought, conscience, and religion, by refusing to bake a cake with a message that went against their religion. According to this argument, the McArthurs would have refused to make a cake decorated in the message “Support Gay Marriage” for any customer – regardless of their race, religion, or sexual orientation.  

Despite various Northern Irish Christian groups’ claims that the McArthurs’ actions came from a religious opposition to gay marriage rather than homophobia, many gay rights activists have dismissed this as a technicality. When the case was heard at the UK Supreme Court in 2018, the main consideration was whether the McArthurs had refused to make the cake because of Mr Lee’s sexual orientation, or because they disagreed with the message they were being asked to put on it. The Court ultimately ruled in favour of the latter – a decision which the ECHR upheld earlier this year. Many LGBTQ activists were staunchly opposed to the verdict, including Stonewall’s CEO Nancy Kelley, who called it a “backwards step for equality” and said that “no discriminatory behaviour should be held up by equality law”.  

It is important to bear in mind that LGBTQ laws have changed significantly since the controversy began in 2014. In 2014, same-sex marriage was not yet legalised in Northern Ireland, and so it was a topic which was seemingly up for debate – especially amongst religious, political and LGBTQ groups. However, same-sex marriage was legalised in Northern Ireland in 2020. One may question if the McArthurs would have won the case if the incident had taken place after the legalisation of gay marriage. In the context of 2014, their refusal to bake the cake may be seen as a more palatable political disagreement, but how we understand other similar cases in the future may differ significantly.   

Nevertheless, the Northern Irish political sphere continues to be dominated by religious affiliations and divisions, mainly along Protestant and Catholic lines. Attitudes towards the LGBTQ community in Northern Ireland have traditionally been slower to advance than the rest of the UK. For instance, Northern Ireland was the last region in the UK to decriminalise same-sex activity and the last to legalise same-sex marriage. Most liberalisation of LGBTQ rights in Northern Ireland has been achieved under direct rule by the Government of the United Kingdom rather than through laws passed by the Northern Ireland Assembly. This pattern is mainly due to the dominance of the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) under Northern Ireland’s power-sharing system. The DUP is a socially conservative political party with strong links to the Free Presbyterian Church of Ulster, and many of its members are evangelical Christians who oppose LGBTQ rights in Northern Ireland and condemn homosexuality. However, attitudes in Northern Ireland appear to be changing following the legalisation of same-sex marriage and the associated liberalisation of LGBTQ rights. For instance, Jeffery Donaldson became the first DUP leader to have an official meeting with an LGBT group after he met with the Rainbow Project in September 2021.  

The ‘Gay Cake Case’ is a complicated one. It raises a number of interesting questions that have implications beyond the outcome of this one court ruling in particular. It draws attention to the complex relationship between religious and LGBT rights – and the complications that can arise when the two come into conflict. Would the verdict have been different if a LGBT-owned bakery refused to bake a cake with a religious slogan for an evangelical Christian customer?  And, more to the point: should it?

Image credit: Unsplash