The Christine Jorgensen Show isn’t perfect, but it’s just so delightfully charming it’s hard to notice. Jesse James Keitel as the world’s first transgender celebrity Christine Jorgensen and Mark Nadler (who also co-composed the show) as Myles Bell, the song and dance man who helped turn her from “headline into headliner” are a beautiful odd couple one can’t help but fall in love with. Set in 1953, the show follows the development of their nightclub act and friendship with so much compassion, and sweetness, it’s evident that everyone involved with the piece truly cares for these characters. In addition to highlighting an important figure in trans history, it’s a beautiful, well told story about collaboration, expression, friendship, and being true to oneself.
The biggest strength of the show is Keitel and Nadler themselves. Each oozes their own particular brand of charisma. Keitel is subtle and poised as Jorgensen, while Nadler, a prolific cabaret performer, plays Bell with spirit and verve. But the real magic is in their chemistry which transcends a few awkward moments in Donald Steven Olson’s book that might in real life be harder for their friendship to recover from (at one point Bell asks Jorgensen “aren’t you man enough to take it?” to which the audience audibly gasped).
A running joke is made of Jorgensen and Bell’s relative billing for their eventual nightclub act (will it be The Christine Jorgensen Show also starring Myles Bell or featuring Myles Bell) but the question is one the show might do well to take seriously. After all, the majority of the piece takes place in Bell’s apartment (simple and well characterized set design by Riw Rakkulchon) and consequently is always slightly more on his terms. Additionally, up until the actual presentation of the nightclub act we mostly get to hear Jorgensen sing as a joke. This bit adds to the show’s consistent, gentle humor, but it slightly robs Jorgensen of deeper interiority. On top of that, Jorgensen’s biggest turning point happens offstage so we never get to see her fully grapple with the complexity of her feelings. All of this left me wondering if it really was The Myles Bell show after all.
That it still feels relatively balanced is a testament to Keitel’s stage presence and the vulnerability she’s able to portray through her eyes. Jorgensen is a somewhat reluctant star, “I’m not a showgirl, I’m a presbyterian” she quips at one point, but by the end she fills HERE arts Center with star power. This transition is also aided through Suzanne Chesney’s stunning, elaborate costume design.
Once the show arrives at the nightclub act Bell and Jorgensen have been preparing for we are treated to perhaps two or three more songs than is necessary to tie the story together, but it’s nice to get the payoff of hearing full versions of the snippets we’ve been listening to for the past hour. Not to mention Jorgensen and Bell’s banter is truly delightful. I especially loved an ode to Copenhagen and a call to listen to “The Voice Inside Your Heart”.
Overall the show could do more to delve into the nuances of Jorgensen’s world and identity, but that’s not really the show that it is. What it is instead is an accessible, wholesome, joyful story of friendship, unexpected connection, and the confidence that enables. As a trans person myself I’m grateful for the growing range of art showcasing trans people and I’m grateful for this special piece of theater that left both me and my theater going companion (also trans) giggling and grinning for the rest of the night. It’s not the most challenging piece, but it’s beautiful and in a world that still hates trans people that in itself is radical.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Morgan Skolnik.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.
