Twins

To see two giants of cabaret together is worth the admission price even if they just stood there and smiled. But Trevor Ashley and Rhonda (Ruda) Burchmore, do far more than that in this lavish production which includes sensational costumes, a kick-ass seven piece band, video screen comedy sketches, awesome vocals – and a script that overall just doesn’t work and leads to some poor comic choices.

Trevor’s Modus Operandi is to break the barriers and offend as many people as possible. In the past it has worked because we have been so busy laughing that it was too late to realise we were offended. Part of the problem here is that the show promises a premise in the set-up, and then never follows through. After us seeing “Guest” Maria Venuti give birth to twins (never meant to be identical…different sex twins never are – but one reviewer missed the point entirely)….one a pink and blue genderless baby, the other a pair of legs…the scene was set for a subtext which was never even explored and the show degenerates into a series of sketches and numbers – some quite brilliant – that have no cohesive justification for their juxtaposition. In plain talk….WHY?

All that’s needed are a few lines of dialogue to explain. Maybe they parted as children – each believing the other didn’t like them, and now they have a chance to explore the dreams they always harboured of doing things together. Maybe one ruined the others chances by “getting in” on the other’s act, and they fought and stopped talking. I don’t care what it is, but somebody write something for them to play in the subtext - a reason for them to be doing the show - maybe it’s a dying promise to their Mum, Maria (“But she’s been dead for years!” “No Darl, it’s just that the “filler” has hardened”) and they start out by resenting it, and end up reconciled. Whatever it is, let us see some genuine emotion, a coming together of two people who, for the purposes of the show, are brother and sister, not just two great performers. The show is never going to work properly unless there is a narrative throughline. A premise can’t simply be promised then tossed away - if they are Twins (and it’s unreal but not impossible) then let’s explore the sibling rivalry. There’s the basis for a show. Did Trevor blame Ruda for over-feeding him when he was a kid, believing she did it maliciously, reducing him to be being a fat Drag queen instead of Hugh Jackman? After all, Trev is big enough to play The Boy From AUSTRALASIA, including New Zealand and Papua New Guinea. Back to the drawing board for the script please Trevor - let’s have some genuine wit, which we all know you are capable of, rather than forty year old elongated gags, or crass cheap shots at Dykes. You have (had) more class than that.

There are great highlights though. Rhonda looks like a million bucks (NO…not green and wrinkly) and sings up a storm with Sia’s “Chandelier” – while Trevor satirises the amazing Maddie Ziegler and dances in a nude leotard. It’s brilliant - but again, it could have been followed with a “That’s why I don’t talk to you, you tried to ruin my career”. Instead it’s just two performers doing their thing.

Trevor’s take on Adele is wonderful as a stand alone number (but again we have to ask,what does it have to do with TWINS?) – and it’s true that he seems more confident when playing a role (all the more reason to play one throughout). “The Little Mermaid” piece is sheer comic brilliance and it’s the kind of offensiveness that we happily embrace (I was going to say “lap up”….but once you’ve seen it you’ll know why that’s not a good call). Any send up of The Kardashians and Jenners is a good one, and two stars nailed it. And the video of “The Real Housewives of Isis” is hysterically funny but could bring a Jihad down on their heads.

The show needs some poignancy, and perhaps a reconciliation song along the lines of “Changed for Good” from Wicked, something which stops the show from playing the one emotional beat – actually there isn’t one - repeatedly. Something we can BELIEVE. I’m a great admirer of both performers, but without some cohesiveness in the script, this is NOT destined to be their finest hour.

Coral Drouyn

Photographer: Kurt Sneddon