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Hersh Dagmarr’s homage to The Pet Shop Boys is a glamorous, touching and toe-tapping production in a transportative venue.Summary
Rating
Excellent
What do Weimar Germany, vampires, and the songs of The Pet Shop Boys have in common? Not much, but that doesn’t stop Hersh Dagmarr from fusing them into a funny, nostalgic and thoroughly entertaining show that balances a great appreciation for the band’s work with a love for London and its nightlife scene.
There’s an initial lack of interaction with the audience. This is because Dagmarr is simply so shy; he tells the assembled crowd that he isn’t usually like this, but was drawn to the stage by Karen Newby’s beautiful overture. And who can blame him? The truly excellent pianist glitters from head to toe and plays practically non-stop for the entire show, incorporating Pet Shop Boys classics with stings from Cabaret, My Fair Lady and Strauss and chiming in, in German, whenever Dagmarr needs an affirming voice.
Even before he starts to drop hints about his vampiric nature, Dagmarr’s demeanour has something of the otherworldly about it. Maybe it’s the oversized fur jacket he enters wearing, covering a baby blue suit and pearls with his eyes covered by Union Jack glasses. Or maybe it’s his mannerisms, light and mildly aloof. It could even be the setting of Crazy Coqs, which always feels a little like you’re stepping into another time and place. Whatever way, his recollections of life in Weimar Germany, 1980s London and the present day are eminently believable. “The rotting of the flesh is a social bourgeois construct,” he announces. “Just refuse!”
For those with personal knowledge of these eras (well, maybe not Weimar Germany), Dagmarr’s references to the thriving nightlife of Soho over the years will perhaps add another level of enjoyment to the proceedings: Madame Jojo’s, Nag Nag Nag and The Astoria all get a shoutout, fondly remembered as places of belonging and community. Given the slightly less radiant club landscape nowadays, they might evoke nostalgia and even a sense of absence even for those who never saw the area in its heyday.
A number of props support the performance, including oversized glasses and a shawl to transform into a 1940s vamp (“it’s a tough enough world for a vamp, let alone a vampire”), an ornamental cat (gifted by Christopher Isherwood, no less) and perhaps the pièce de résistance, a framed photo of Princess Diana that smiles sedately over proceedings.
Each song is woven into an anecdote, Dagmarr’s strong, clear voice filling the small room with ease. Already brilliant in construction, musically and lyrically, Dagmarr’s renditions put a distinct spin on the band’s repertoire while maintaining what makes them so great. It’s wonderful to watch someone perform songs that they clearly love so much, and with the addition of sharply funny jokes and an envious wardrobe, this show makes for a wonderful evening out.
Indefinite Leave To Remain has completed its current run.
