Adelaide Cabaret Festival 2017 review: Alan Cumming Sings Sappy Songs
WITH a mischievous glint in his eye, an impish grin on his face, a song in his over-sentimental heart and apparently a tea setting in his trousers, Alan Cumming is the cabaret gift that keeps on giving.
WITH a mischievous glint — and occasional tear — in his eye, an impish grin on his face, a song in his over-sentimental heart (which he would wear on his sleeve, if his shirt had any), a Scottish lilt in his voice and apparently a tea setting in his trousers, Alan Cumming is the cabaret gift that keeps on giving.
Engaging anecdotes and witty one-liners roll into lovely songs like the Rs roll from his tongue with an accent that is still charmingly evident in his singing voice, which can build from hushed purity to formidable roar within the space of a few bars.
Oh, and he’s a wee bit sexy, which helps explains some of the more bawdy tales.
When he’s not trading double entendres with musical director Lance Horne at the piano, Cumming lets us beneath the skin of a man brutalised by and estranged from his father, and of his hunt for the grandfather who never returned to his family.
He uses the words of Rufus Wainwright’s Dinner at 8 to tell the story, but the raw emotion which threatens to overwhelm the rendition is all his own.
There are tunes from Annie Lennox and the band Keane, encounters with Miley Cyrus and Liza Minnelli, and even the story of how his only previous visit to Adelaide some decades ago led to pie floaters being served on the set of an X-Men movie.
Throw in a musical condom commercial, a letter to President Trump in the style of poet Robert Burns, a bit of Weill and Brecht, a dash of Eli Gold from The Good Wife, a mashup up of Adele/Lady Gaga/Katy Perry and a similar medley of sound-alike Sondheim songs and you’ve only scraped the surface of Alan Cumming’s talents.
Alan Cumming Sings Sappy Songs
Her Majesty’s Theatre
June 11