The Butch Is Back

All the stars in the universe couldn’t match the incandescent talent of the Supernova that is Reuben Kaye; so, they’ll have to be content to simply “Twinkle, Twinkle”. Yes, he truly is that good. Yet, it’s difficult to define why this extraordinary performer is head and shoulders ahead of anyone who dares to venture anywhere near his turf. Partly it’s because of his quest for excellence in everything, but that’s not a label.

Is he a comic? Well, not in a traditional sense, though he is screamingly funny, filthy and outrageous. Is he a drag queen? Definitely no, not in the sense of Ru Paul, Danny La Rue, Courtney Act or even Dolly Diamond. He is quite clearly a man in a man’s skin - even though the word faggot is bandied frequently. Is he a singer? Yes, with an astonishing voice that could take on anyone from Pavarotti to Bowie (and all the singers since), but it’s just a tool, not his main schtick! He is, quite simply, unique, a once in a lifetime presence who is totally NOW, and yet owes so much to the great performers of another age, from Sophie Tucker and Mae West to Danny Kaye (is it a coincidence they have the same last name? I think not). And if you don’t know who they are – look them up – and all the other artists who created Cabaret - why wait to be spoon fed - though I’m sure he’d do that too if you asked him, but you wouldn’t know what you were swallowing!

Spawned by Eddie Izzard out of Bette Midler, don’t try to square peg this round – often pink - Kayehole, it will make your head hurt. Kaye doesn’t cross boundaries -  he caresses them until they relax - and then stomps them to death and uses their blood as lip-gloss.

He enters in pink - with a panniered overskirt that almost decapitates the first row. Vocally he offers us Janelle Monae’s PYNK as an anthem, then follows it with a list of why we deserved 2020 at machine gun speed. Satire at its best. He’s both intellectual and smart (seldom the same thing) and if you don’t get the references to Camus or George Orwell, well F**k You…it’s not his problem.

He’s electrifying and the energy level is so high that you fear he will explode and burn out before the show is finished. And he loves every minute of it - it’s for HIM, not us, it just happens to be all embracing for an audience that includes strictly straight middle-aged retirees and bogan footballers as well as “His people”. Once the boundaries are gone, there’s nothing to fear, and Kaye may be very confronting, but never frightening. The projected 60 minutes stretches to 75…and then 90….and still we want more. The band (all excellent musicians) may be exhausted, but Kaye is still challenging the Energiser Bunny (it’s pink) for the world record in stored power.

Kaye is a paradox wrapped in glamour. He's elegantly grotesque and astonishingly beautiful, classy and crass, graceful and awkward, aggressive and vulnerable. That vulnerability, and emotional honesty, is a gift to those who really are feeling nauseous from all the laughing and need to be reminded that it’s okay to FEEL…. whether hurt, pain, bewilderment, joy. In fact, it’s essential. It’s all part of discovering who you are. Reuben Kaye finally knows who he is, and his story makes us all the braver for hearing it. Through The Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry”, his poignant telling of his childhood with his artist father is a work of Art in itself. Many of us cried and felt inspired. And if Kaye can inspire one skinny Jewish gay kid to come out of the closet and say “Love me for who I am” - well, that’s far more than Show Biz has the right to hope for.

Reuben Kaye is a revelation.

Coral Drouyn

Photographers (from top): Lisa Bone, Jax Moussa & Suzanne Phoenix.