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Mr. Edna
The return of the Dame
BY CAROLYN CLAY

A Night with Dame Edna
Devised and written by Barry Humphries. Additional material by Ian Davidson. Choreography by Jason Gilkison. Costumes by Stephen Adnitt. Lighting by Bob Bonniol. Sound by Dan Scheivert. With Barry Humphries, pianist Wayne Barker, and " Ednaettes " Teri DiGianfelice and Michelle Pampena. At the Colonial Theatre through October 13.


I’ve occasionally been called an animal (you can guess which ones), but seldom have I received such an appellation as contentedly as when the word " possum " rolls, solicitous as a prayer, off the tongue of Dame Edna Everage. Our lady of the wisteria bouffant and the flashing eyewear always addresses audience members thus, and whether she means to treat us as pets or as roadkill, she means her ministrations " in the nicest way. " It’s true that Dame Edna identifies her particular gift as " the ability to laugh at the misfortunes of others. " But don’t be put off. A Night with Dame Edna — in which the Australian housewife turned international megastar returns to Boston just 18 months after her triumphant turn in Dame Edna: The Royal Tour — is marketed as " the show that cares. "

At Tuesday night’s preview, Dame Edna, resplendent in silver foil and pink ruffles (to be followed, in act two, by a glimmering blue frock with a clamshell over-brassiere), cared enough to have dinner sent in from Olives for a New Hampshire woman celebrating her birthday and a friend with the paydirt name of " Geezela. " Her sympathies extended to calling another audience member’s aging mother on the telephone. " Did you know your daughter was at a show tonight? " she inquired in her distinctive voice, half syrup, half stevedore. " Well, I am the show, " she erupted, unable to contain her decorously volcanic self. And though Dame Edna did not receive the optimum straight-man cooperation from the possums she deigned to get intimate with at this particular performance, she persevered, even in the face of the uncanny coincidence that almost every woman she attempted to chat up was named Mary (or some variation thereupon). " I know this is a Catholic town, " she harrumphed, her flawlessly lip-lined mouth twisting into a sideways-8-shaped grimace, " but this is ridiculous. "

Dame Edna, the creation of 68-year-old Australian writer/performer Barry Humphries, may be an acquired taste. But when she’s on, it’s as easy to acquire, and as vintage, as fine wine (though few of those are so garishly bottled). And though Humphries has been channeling her since the 1950s, he continues to do so wholeheartedly, not to mention whole-heartlessly. Dame Edna engages selected victims, er, new friends in the first several rows of the audience with chummy questions and the most caringly meant criticism. And she is quick on her high-heeled feet. Once she has singled you out, she will double and triple and quadruple you out (never forgetting a name, even when they’re not all Mary), until at last, if you’re lucky, you get to impersonate a member of England’s royal family and receive a cheesy prize in the show’s finale. (Like other highlights of the show, this pageant is commemorated for your posterity in old-time Polaroid snaps.)

Given that Dame Edna, who has been a gender-bent icon in Australia and England for decades, first graced Boston in 2001, potential theatergoers who were present at that momentous event will want to know what’s new in A Night with Dame Edna. The answer is that this is, in large part, the same show that played the Wilbur a year and a half ago. (To judge by critic John Lahr, whose works include Dame Edna and the Rise of Western Civilization, Humphries has been recycling some of this shtick, which was born in dada and is as hoary as vaudeville, for decades.) There are some different bits, and of course the audience interaction changes nightly. Dame Edna now reveals herself as a shoe psychic, capturing audience members’ footwear in a net extended on a pink pole in order to analyze it (she spun little comic gold of this at the preview). She also reveals an up-to-the-minute development in her own life having to do with a genetically engineered pregnancy. A terrible second-act addition involving dead husband Norm’s soiled underwear is not only unfunny but involves an elaborate sight gag in what is otherwise essentially a one-person show. (Dame Edna shares the stage — if it can be called sharing — with just two dancing Vanna Whites and game piano player Wayne Barker.)

So if you saw Dame Edna fling barbs and her trademark gladioli in her deliriously funny Boston debut and aren’t a hopeless devotee, you can probably skip this stop on the superstar’s " North American Tourette. " If not, don’t pass up the opportunity to become a first-time possum.

Issue Date: September 26 - October 3, 2002
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