Dame Edna Everage is probably the most popular and gifted woman in the world today.
The widely loved international homemaker, talk show host, gigastar, fashion icon, swami and sought-after friend to the rich, famous and royal, is making her return to the United States at the Civic Theatre next month, with what she describes as her “First Last Tour.”
Whether touring in her native Australia or in her beloved United States – “America is the best kept secret in the world, Possums” – she gives and gives and gives. Never have Americans needed to laugh, cry and give standing ovations as much as they do today. Her compassion is legendary, and her stage offerings possess a unique “edge,” due to the fact that she doesn’t need the money. Dame Edna’s inspiring publications have been placed in the nightstands of hotel rooms across the world.
A true mother indeed, this is to be a “First Last Tour” because Dame Edna has decided to devote more quality time to her seriously dysfunctional family, which includes her gay son Kenny, whom she says likely subscribes to the Gay & Lesbian Times. The jewels she will be wearing, her famous face furniture and her glorious gowns are all made from organic materials, and very few animals have been significantly hurt in their making.
The Dame’s stage success is unparalleled – so much so that the royal satirist does not do interviews for publications. They do, you see, get in the way of speaking directly with her legions of fans, those loyal subjects known as her “Possums.” On the rare occasion that she finds someone engaging, she might sit for a conversation.
As it turns out, Dame Edna, overcoming a sore throat and a bit of a chill, was feeling benevolent recently for Mother’s Day and sat for a conversation with Gay & Lesbian Times contributing writer, Brian van de Mark. These passages are from that conversation, not from citations from an interview… Because, again, Dame Edna Everage, does not do interviews!
Dame Edna: Hello, Brian. Oh, this endless tour. It’s been quite an extraordinary thing, you know. Forgive me if I am a big croaky, but I have been singing all morning and I’m a bit croaky from all of that. But I think I am ready for my public. It is a strange story, you know. Ten years ago, in London, I never thought I would have an audience. But I have, haven’t I? And for many years now. I did a show in which I think I overreached myself. I wrote a musical. And it was far too expensive, and it involved other people, which is a big mistake for an independent artiste like me. And I decided it was time to make an extraordinary change in my life, so I called Joan Rivers. You know, Joan, right Brian?
Brian van de Mark for the Gay & Lesbian Times: I know of her, but she isn’t one of my Facebook friends.
DAME EDNA: She’s a little old lady and she’s wonderful. And she said, “Go to America.” And I said, “I don’t have an audience there.” She said, “You do. There’s an underground interest. People have seen cable shows.” So, I booked a theater on her suggestion in San Francisco for two weeks, thinking I’ll get the village people, or their mothers and aunties! Instead, that show ran for four months. I went to New York. I won the Tony, and the rest of my life has changed. Quite late in life – or late in middle age – I have found a wonderful audience in your country.
After a trip to London and Switzerland… . Well, I think everyone needs to go to Europe. You need that injection. But you know that, having lived there. But the next stop is your city, in June. At the Civic, which I believe is beautiful.
GLT: Indeed, it is. But let me move a bit further East. When I was in Hong Kong for New Years in 1990-1991, I went to buy tickets to see the St. Petersburg Ballet’s Swan Lake. They were sold out, so I went back to our condemned youth hostel and had take-out Chinese. I turned on the television and there you were. Extraordinary, hilarious. I had no idea, of course, who you were, but the show was captivating. Even the roaches in the building were suddenly transfixed upon the screen.
DEE: Goodness! As you know, I’ve been going to Hong Kong on and off for many years. I did a cabaret in the early ’70s. That’s a long time ago, Brian. I think it’s because I have a beautiful energy, really. And it’s a healing energy. I haven’t thought of a proper name for my show. I am thinking about calling it my stimulus package. Because I am bringing a stimulus package to America. And I think you need me more than ever before. Vitamin E for Edna. And you know, I had last year, well, this tour was postponed, because I had an appendix burst, and I had been walking around with this horrible pain, little knowing that I was dying. I had to expensively cancel the tour, which I’ve never done in my life, but it gives you a perspective. With you, and your cancer, it gives you a different perspective. Your values change, don’t they?
She is the creation of Australian actor/writer Barry Humphries, a character he invented decades ago. Humphries is 75, but Dame Edna — this ebullient but tart-tongued lady with lilac-colored hair and a fondness for gladiolas — says she is "approaching 60 from the wrong direction, but I am amazingly well preserved, with no cosmetic surgery." The Tony Award winner is currently on "My First Last Tour," which stops at the Colonial Theatre next weekend.
Your "First Last Tour?" Please explain.
I'm not trying to do a Cher. I'm in my element up there on stage. Which is why when I say it's "my first last tour," I'm wondering to what extent I really mean that. I think I would probably not be able to do this without the company of my public.
They do adore you.
I don't say "adulation." This business of leaping to your feet and saying, say, to Liza Minnelli, "We love you, Liza!" — which poor needy little Liza desperately needs — I can't bear it. Two hairdressers came up to me and said, "We love you Edna!", and I said, "I don't love you." That's called honesty. People like the fact that I'm not needy. I think it's a very unappealing thing in the theater.
You have fun with your audience — possums, as you call them — but you mortify them too.
I really invented interactive theater. And when I see people in the front row, or further back, I feel I want to get to know them. To me, the audience is the show. Every night is different because the audience is different every night. And I love to chat with them. I invite people onto the stage, and there are wonderful prizes I give members of the audience. Pretty well every penny of profit is plowed back into that audience.
How, exactly?
It's a hard thing to describe. They are getting it back as therapy. They come here, and it's edifying, cathartic, and there's a certain amount of osmosis going on as well. Osmosis, because they see the world through my glasses. All the art of the theater really is someone — a gifted writer or performer — sharing his view of the world, briefly, with an audience who is sick of their own view. They really want to trade in their perception of the universe for someone else's — preferably mine. I'm not making a guarantee, but there are healing properties in my show. The cleaners of the theaters tell me after the show about the things they find. Last night, they found one neck brace, three pairs of false teeth, an artificial leg. People have left no longer requiring these things.
You're like our Lady of Lourdes!
I am a one-woman Lourdes! That's a big claim to make. And it's one Cher doesn't make. Think about it. It is not within her radar.
What are the themes of this show?
The human condition, of course. I'm very interested in how people live and where they live, what they cook, what they ate today, their regimes, their fears, their way of bringing up children, their attitude toward old age, their favorite music. I'm awestruck by the range of my show. I don't think of it as a show, by the way. I think of it as a conversation between two people, where one of them is a lot more interesting than the other. People always say their show is "a meditation" on something. So this is a bit of a meditation on gender and sexuality and death. I'm here to bring a bit of laughter that I think you need, some kind of vitamin that is missing from your emotional diet.
Your daughter is with you this time.
My daughter, she is on stage with me, but it's only at the insistence of her therapist. Valmai is a problem, really. She is dysfunctional, she's given me a lot of trouble, and she's doing what is called community service. So I get her to clean the stage, but she intrudes on the show. I have no control over her. And I'm afraid she even sings an item! The audience is very sweet, and they pretend to enjoy it. I've discussed this at meetings of Megastars Anonymous, and they tell me I'm enabling her. That's the latest buzzword. I'm enabling this girl just by being a loving mother.
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