Liza’s Back (is broken)

Performers can be stars without having extraordinary talent; and some can have extraordinary talent without ever becoming stars. It’s quite rare for a performer to combine both without being a household name, but then Trevor Ashley is a rarity in so many ways. Most recently seen stunning audiences as M. Thenardier in the latest production of Les Misérables, and still managing to find time to direct the musical Heathers, Ashley simply won’t be put in any descriptive box which limits his talents – not that the box has been made that could ever hold him.

Now, since the death of the legendary Jim Bailey last year, Ashley is the undisputed King and Queen of drag impersonators, and  - after his stunning Shirley Bassey of 2012-14 – he returns to his greatest love – Liza Minnelli, with a touch of Judy for good measure.

It isn’t enough that Ashley has every mannerism, every move, every laugh, every tic, inflection, impediment, down perfectly; if you close your eyes you would swear you were listening to Liza herself: not the Liza of the 70s and 80s (I first saw her live in early 69 and was so enamoured I named my second child after her), but the Liza of the 90s and beyond – past her prime, almost a caricature of herself, the booze soaked voice still belting but failing sometimes in the quieter moments.

In his first incarnation of Liza (On an E), Ashley showed us so much of Liza’s vulnerability; this time round he takes a step back to let Liza herself portray a Supernova imploding, the last flash of dazzling brilliance before the darkness. It’s a stunning and somehow tragic display, summed up when Liza describes Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard  (a role she ‘turned down’) as “an aging star, past her prime who insists on still performing because she thinks people still want to see her, when they really don’t” (sic.).

The premise is simple – Liza tells us of all the Broadway shows that she was “asked to do” but didn’t; and there’s laughs galore alongside the poignancy in the great lies she tells. Sure, there is some cutting bitchiness which sometimes sits uncomfortably, as with Liza’s “tribute” to Streisand with the rewritten “The Way We Were”; but it makes us wince only because we totally forget this is a drag performance and believe it’s Liza, and Liza would never be that vitriolic….would she?

Despite the laughs, (and Ashley has superb comic timing), it’s Ashley’s voice that thrills and chills, and his understanding of a lyric which brings a lump to the throat in the straight ballads like “Send In The Clowns”. Ashley could sing the phone book in any voice of his choice and I would happily listen all night. There are some unlikely roles and renditions…. her Grizabella from Cats makes “Memory” into a swing number….because “Memory” is ‘such a strong number even Delta Goodrem couldn’t kill it.’ A nod to Mum Judy segues The Wizard of Oz into “The Wizard and I” from Wicked; and Liza even tackles Les Miseérables with stunning vocals – (plus a gag that she would have liked to do the Australian production to work with Trevor Ashley.)

“Some People” convinces you that Liza should indeed have played Mama Rose in Gypsy, and “Cabaret” is so full of pizzazz and chutzpah that for a few minutes the clock is turned back forty years and we’re watching Liza in her prime.

The seven piece band, led by superb drummer Andy Davies, excels beyond any critique; Max Lambert’s arrangements are fabulous, Phil Scott’s script (written with Ashley) works 99.9% of the time , and Cameron Mitchell’s choreography makes Diva Ashley look like Dancer Minnelli in “The Music and The Mirror”. 

Trevor Ashley is both great performer and great star. More than both he is warm, endearing and possesses that great gift of connection with an audience. Liza herself reminds me of Edna St Vincent Millay’s great poem “My Candle burns at both ends/ it cannot last the night/ But ah, my foes -and oh, my friends/ It gives a lovely light.” Someone has yet to write the poem that does justice to Ashley. This is spectacular entertainment and will undoubtedly take London and New York by storm if there is any justice in this crazy business.

Coral Drouyn

Photographer: Jeremy Vincent