Anyone who plays Talking Heads before a show has already won over a small slice of my pie, and so it continued with this cabaresque medley of original songs and winning repartee from a super-camp and very tall musical duo. It was a strange thing to be sat in my multi-pocketed utility vest, alone and furtively note-taking whilst before me the sequined lizard-king, Bourgeois, cavorted, crooned and cajoled in a flurry of flamboyant gesticulations, encouraging us through his own example to feel at home in our own skin.
The title of the show, Sugartits, had suggested to me a tone of harshness or crudity that was very far from the reality of the experience. Interaction with the audience is generous and inviting rather than confrontational, and the satire of the comic songs works through teasing nibbles rather than savage bites. This isn’t to suggest it isn’t funny; the fairly continuous giggling of the audience regularly erupts into happy guffaws.
The use of lighting and dry ice effectively fills out the space, provides variety, and gives the show an aura of elegant style, rather than trashy self-parody. This is borne out by the quality of the singing, led by Bourgeois with harmonies provided by his sidekick, Maurice, who also provides accompaniment on a range of instruments. Affecting a voice somewhere between Jennifer Saunders and Princess Diana, she is a strong performer but more clearly playing a character than Bourgeois, who I’m fairly convinced would sound and act pretty much the same off-stage as on. This is most notable in the shifts in vocal tone between Maurice’s speaking and singing. Her real comic ability comes to light when she is given reign to stand up and lead proceedings – memorably in the funky, sadomasochistic track ‘Tax Me’. This could be read as just an odd conceit, or a political expression of her readiness to contribute more to the communal purse. As with many of the songs, the political element is often subtly nestling between the comic frills, such as, ‘It’s OK to be gay, it’s OK to be straight, but don’t be disabled’. In the context of the entire set this clearly isn’t vicious, it’s a satirical statement of the continual need to identify and uproot hypocrisy and intolerance. Primarily this show aims to make a healthy contribution to a good night out, and that it does very well, but there’s an intelligence, sensitivity and strange humanity that might just provoke some diverting conversations too.