In the waning hours of Pride Month, DC’s Solas Nua (“New Light” in Irish) and Studio Theatre have extended the festivities with a special state visit from Irish drag legend and “national fucking treasure” Panti Bliss (Rory O’Neill). While one probably won’t find the tricolor hanging alongside Logan Circle’s abundant rainbow flags, If These Wigs Could Talk nevertheless offers a moving one-woman excavation of personal pride in the midst of national progress. And as the oft-proclaimed “Queen of Ireland,” Panti proves to rule audiences not with an iron fist, but rather a gentle, impeccably manicured hand.
The last time this critic saw Panti was in 2014 as she performed her solo show High Heels in Low Places in a lecture hall at Ireland’s University of Galway (then called the National University of Ireland, Galway). Only nine months off of her famous “Noble Call” on the stage of Dublin’s historic Abbey Theatre, Panti still appeared to be adjusting to her newfound status as an internationally recognized LGBTQ activist. Scrappy and saucy, her naughtiness still seemed at odds with the expected respectability that viral indictment of homophobia brought upon her.
Ten years later, Panti stands even taller in her shimmery heels. And why shouldn’t she? By all accounts, it’s been a banner decade for her: she’s published a memoir, served as the de facto face of Ireland’s marriage-equality campaign, been the subject of a documentary, opened a companion pub to the eponymous Pantibar, tied the knot, and received an honorary doctorate from Trinity College Dublin. She is a bona fide grande dame of global gayness and carries herself accordingly.
So why is Panti still wondering where she fits in? She spends the bulk of If These Wigs Could Talk’s 75-minute runtime working through that question in a still noble, yet more introspective, call. In her mulling, she takes stock of the current state of drag (“televised, commodified, defanged, and Instagram-able,” she says), recalling the life-changing moment she first encountered a drag queen (exemplifying what she calls “anti-invisibility”) and lamenting the seeming loss of political commentary in the form (“drag isn’t very angry anymore”).
And, on a more personal level, Panti attempts to reconcile the wounds of growing up in (and leaving) an Ireland that criminalized same-sex attraction with her widespread embrace as a cultural ambassador for the country. In 2015, Ireland became the first country to legalize same-sex marriage by popular vote, an astonishing transformation from the conservative culture of Panti’s youth. “I rejected my Irishness for drag,” she says, recounting her early career as an expat in Tokyo’s drag scene. “So why am I still in drag?” she asks.
That strain of emotional tumult will surely be familiar for many LGBTQ people, and perhaps for those who aren’t as well. But in DC, which both carries a reputation for transience and is home to one of the highest concentrations of LGBTQ people in the United States, Panti’s message of self and belonging carries a special poignance.
But even in questioning what she’s “for,” Panti never wavers in knowing who she is. And she is, in many ways, full of incongruous qualities. She is inviting, but direct; randy, but emphatic; funny, but sorrowful. She is the impossibly charming Irish auntie (named something glamorous and surprising, like Columba, perhaps) you never knew you desperately needed.
It helps that she is a master raconteur and an excellent writer. Panti is so attuned to her own voice that the line between scripted text and extemporaneous flourish is virtually indistinguishable. One would be surprised, given the glut of one-person shows that have arisen in the post-COVID years, at how rare such a talent is. She is lyrical but purposeful in her delivery. As she maneuvers through hilarious and heartbreaking stories of parents, protests, and Pride with a signature lilt, she knows exactly when to pause or play up. She looks her audience in the eyes and she sees them.
And under director Phillip McMahon, there is little distraction to stand in the way of that connection. Set designer Molly O’Cathain offers an electric blue vinyl rug and velvet curtain combo, accented with a hot pink cocktail table and neon facsimile of the star’s swoopy signature. Suzie Cummins’ lighting design offers wide washes of bright, warm yellow, except for occasional inversions that are mostly used to dramatic effect. Sound designer Jenny O’Malley mostly asserts her contributions with an occasional foghorn. And costume designer James David Seaver has Panti in a sparkly silver frock and glittery pumps.
There’s sadness in seeing many of the rainbow flags come down at the end of June, marking the end of the region’s annual Pride festivities. How lucky for us, then, that Panti comes just in time to stave off the blues a bit longer. The Queen of Ireland has arrived in DC. Long may she reign.
Running Time: 75 minutes, no intermission.
Panti Bliss: If These Wigs Could Talk, a co-production of Solas Nua, Studio Theatre, THISISPOPBABY, and Abbey Theatre Productions, plays through July 7, 2024, on Studio Theatre’s Stage 4, 1501 14th St NW, Washington, DC 20005. Purchase tickets ($54) online or call the box office at 202-332-3300.
SEE ALSO:
Solas Nua and Studio Theatre to present ‘Panti Bliss: If These Wigs Could Talk’ (new story, June 13, 2024)
