Theatre in Review: Kinky Boots (Al Hirschfeld Theatre)

	Stark Sands, Annaleigh Ashford, Billy Porter. Photo: Matthew Murphy

"Drag queens are mainstream," proudly asserts Lola (née Simon), the cross-dressing lead character of Kinky Boots -- and, really, who in the packed Al Hirschfeld Theatre is going to contradict her? From its first downbeat, Kinky Boots has the look and feel of a smash hit, the kind of crowd pleaser that no amount of bad reviews can hurt. And, in any case, most of the notices for Kinky Boots have been pretty darned good.

For those of us with long memories, it's quite a moment. It's hard not to remember when Torch Song Trilogy moved to Broadway after an acclaimed Off Broadway run, accompanied by no small amount of hand-wringing. Could a Broadway audience really stand a three-hour-plus play about the joys and sorrows of a drag performer? A year later, in the midst of the AIDS epidemic, La Cage aux Folles opened at the Palace, to more agonizing: Were Broadway audiences ready for a musical about two men living in a marriage-style relationship, even if the show's source material was a blockbuster French film?

The answer in all cases was a rousing yes -- in terms of length of run, profitability, critical acclaim, and awards -- in no small part thanks to the unique talents of Harvey Fierstein, who started out as a drag artist in downtown clubs and went on to carve out one of the more distinguished Broadway careers of recent decades. It's not too much to say that Fierstein single-handedly revolutionized how gay people -- especially of the male, cross-dressing variety -- were portrayed on Broadway.

Kinky Boots, the bring-the-family drag extravaganza, is a slickly produced, highly melodic, and cleverly staged entertainment, but it arguably finds Fierstein a prisoner of his own success. Once, drag was inherently subversive -- a satirical critique of a society hidebound by static definitions of masculinity and femininity -- and it carried an edge of danger. Today, after Torch Song Trilogy, three revivals of La Cage aux Folles, Kiss of the Spider Woman, Angels in America, Victor/Victoria, Dirty Blonde, The Rocky Horror Show, Hairspray, The Producers, and Priscilla Queen of the Desert, men in dresses are standard Broadway fare. And not just Broadway -- on television, RuPaul's Drag Race is in its fifth season. In the movies, audiences have flocked to films like The Bird Cage. What once seemed daring now seems like applause bait: Bring on the (male) girls, and you're certain to get a hand.

There's nothing wrong with that, but it poses a problem for a show like Kinky Boots, which keeps insisting on the essentially disruptive nature of its cross-dressing characters. Then again, maybe it's not a problem at all: The audience at the performance I attended roared its approval. But it may help explain why a slickly packaged, melodic, and vibrantly performed entertainment feels just a little bit tired.

Based on the 2005 film of the same name, Kinky Boots centers on Price and Son, an English manufacturer that has been turning out solid, long-lasting men's shoes for generations; the pitch is that one pair can last a lifetime. When the current owner dies, his son, Charlie, recently departed for London with his fiancée for a career in big-time real estate, quickly discovers that the firm's products are passé and its financial resources nonexistent. Following a chance encounter with the aforementioned Lola, Charlie -- who doesn't want to put his lifelong friends and neighbors out of work -- comes up with a plan: Price and Sons will focus on a niche market, turning out glammed-up thigh-high boots for the transvestite trade. He also brings Lola on board as chief designer, technical advisor, and muse.

This rather dubious business model leads to all sorts of complications -- including production numbers where gangs of unreal girls strut their stuff on the factory floor -- that induce in Charlie's employees a range of reactions from bewilderment to outright hostility. As everyone races to produce a new line of products for a launch at a trade show in Milan, life lessons are handed out right and left: Real men can be sensitive. Open minds are better than closed ones. Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all. The more pious it becomes under its sassy exterior, the more Kinky Boots comes to seem not very kinky at all.

The first act of Kinky Boots is so smoothly executed, it is hard to dislike even as it strikes so many familiar poses. Fierstein, the librettist, knows a thing or two about structure, and it's a pleasure to be in the hands of a real pro. The opening number, "The Most Beautiful Thing," sets up the basic situation and fills us in on important information about the childhoods of Charlie and Lola. "Step One," in which Charlie introduces his scheme, is infectious fun, as is "Sex is in the Heel," in which Lola, aided by her girls, lays out her theory of fetish wear. As a worker who is horrified to find herself falling for Charlie, Annaleigh Ashford amuses, especially in "The History of Wrong Guys," in which she bares her long-running man problems. The songs, by Cyndi Lauper, merge soul and disco styles in unfailingly toe-tapping ways; the finale, "Raise You Up/Just Be," effortlessly brings the crowd to its collective feet. Her lyrics are less accomplished, however. Some are reasonably clever, while others rely on clumsy or false rhymes. Occasionally, she throws up her hands altogether and has everyone sing "Everybody say 'Yeah'" over and over.

The second act tries to coast on a series of manufactured crises, including a boxing match between Lola (who, most improbably, is also a trained prizefighter) and the factory's head lout, and a falling-out between Charlie and Lola that happens mostly because both characters need big eleven o'clock numbers. Charlie's song, "Soul of a Man," is almost ludicrously overwrought, given his mild-mannered character -- he seems to be auditioning for Team Shakira on The Voice -- but by then, Kinky Boots has pretty much taken leave of its senses; Lola's number ends in a revelation that is startlingly mawkish even in a show where shamelessness is standard operating procedure. If you don't think the show will reach a climax in Milan with the entire cast prowling around in the latest Price and Son products, then the last musical you saw probably was My Fair Lady -- with the original cast.

As staged and choreographed by Jerry Mitchell, Kinky Boots bops along at a blessedly fast pace. (Mitchell also makes creative use of treadmills, staging the sassier numbers for all they are worth.) Stark Sands is remarkably good as Charlie, given the difficulty of having to drive the action of a big musical while also playing an ambivalent and conflicted character, the sort of person who goes blank when anyone asks him what he really wants out of life. As Lola, Billy Porter struts so ferociously, snapping out insults in his best school-of-Fierstein manner, that his few moments of introspection come as a bit of a relief. (One of the weaker numbers, "I'm Not My Father's Son," reiterates what we already know, that both Charlie and Lola have major daddy issues.) Interestingly, in a show that keeps insisting Lola is sex incarnate, there isn't a hint about her sex life; even as Charlie is stuck in a conventional musical comedy triangle, Lola apparently remains celibate. Did someone decide that a sexually active drag queen might be just a little too much for the audience?

Ashford is such a riot, it's a pity that she has so little to do but stand around and wait for Charlie to notice her. Celina Carvajal is solid as Charlie's fiancée, even though she exists only to be gotten rid of, as quickly as possible. Daniel Stewart Sherman delivers as Lola's factory-floor nemesis, a working-class bigot who does a U-turn, attitude-wise, after going a few rounds in the ring with her. Marcus Neville is engaging as the factory's floor manager and keeper of tradition.

David Rockwell's inventively conceived set design places most of the action inside the factory, a Victorian brick-and-glass concoction with iron portals and delicately tinted glass. (The factory's exterior, an imposing brick facade with the company's sign and stained glass windows, acts as the show curtain.) A two-level rolling unit at stage center serves as Charlie's office, but it can also spin around to become other locations, including the club where Lola performs. The only major deviation from this scheme is the Milan finale, which features a catwalk, plenty of color-changing LEDs, and an array of color-changing lightboxes displaying the silhouettes of various types of footwear. Kenneth Posner's lighting makes good use of colorful washes behind the factory's windows; he also achieves some attractive big-beam effects from backlight (both high and low) during Lola's numbers. Gregg Barnes, the costume designer, goes to town, contrasting the drab on-the-job wear of Charlie's employees with the over-the-top drag of Lola and her posse; Josh Marquette's hair designs also play an important part in the overall effect. John Shivers' sound design is a little loud and quite heavily processed, but this is to be expected, given the score; in any case, he achieves some nifty panning effects with Stephen Oremus' orchestrations.

Even in its weakest moments, Kinky Boots is harmless fun, and maybe it doesn't matter that the show's audience is made up of people who don't really need to hear its message of acceptance. But it's a message that, through sheer repetition, has lost some of its power. Tellingly, Fierstein has Lola sum up her career as one spent performing "in a room full of people who need to feel normal by comparison." Is that tolerance spreading through the house, or self-congratulation? -David Barbour