For the past 25 years, Sandra Bernhard has been delighting fans and critics alike with her unparalleled voice… (H)er solo shows have always spotlighted her singing, particularly her uncanny ability to draw hitherto undiscovered poignant subtexts out of a wide variety of otherwise-neglected pop songs.
The above sentences are lifted from Sandra Bernhard's program bio for her new show, Everything Bad & Beautiful. They're not quotes from reviews, but statements of presumed fact, which, one would think, were printed with Ms. Bernhard's approval.
I like Sandra Bernhard's singing. She has strong pipes and favors good lyric phrasing over vocal gymnastics. I enjoyed her renditions, backed solidly by The Rebellious Jezebels, of songs originally performed by the likes of Bob Dylan, Prince and Cheap Trick. But I daresay that on any given night in New York City you can walk into several theatres, cabarets or music venues and hear singers that parallel her capabilities. "Undiscovered poignant subtexts?" You mean like when Mark Nadler sings "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend" from the point of view of a nice but lonely guy who can't afford to take a girl on a date? Or like when Karen Akers tenderly removes the stinging darts from "I Wish I Were In Love Again" and replaces them with a dreamy melancholy? Can't say I've ever heard Ms. Bernhard dig up anything that hitherto undiscovered.
And yet, I do believe that's all part of Sandra Bernhard's diabolical little game. As professional singers go she's about average, and though her comedy often involves politics she generally sticks with safer, familiar issues (yellow ribbons as fashion accessories, the escapades of the Bush daughters) that please her left-leaning following. Sometimes she doesn't even have a joke. She'll just put verbal quotes around a statement like, "Lynne Cheney is a confused woman" and the crowd is joyously yukking it up. And when she's run out of vocal inflections she still gets roars of approval for simply referring to some political figure as a nasty body part.
Don't get me wrong. I like her a lot. And I suspect she knows darn well that her forte is not singing or biting social satire. No, what Sandra Bernhard excels at most is being an icon. She plays the role of a rebellious comic genius extraordinarily well while performing an act that's flashy showbiz pretending to be edgy and dangerous. Though her current show teeters back and forth between being funny and being, frankly, a bit dull, you can wear out a dozen loofahs exfoliating the layers of satire she uses to play the crowd. And that part of her performance is gutsy and rather brilliant.
"I'm back in my beautiful New York City", she shouts to the audience. And after the expected cheers she spends the next five minutes, and really the bulk of the show, talking about L.A., alienating Gothamites who, like me, wouldn't understand references to Victory Boulevard, Ye Little Club, some boot store on Melrose Avenue, that "fabulous shirt shop where the shirts are inside out" and the importance of being invited to have midnight truffle pasta with Karl Lagerfeld. She tells us Los Angeles is the intellectual hub of the United States and after the crowd laughs derisively she defends the point in a way that is tongue in cheek, but still undercuts east coast cerebral elitism. "Can't you see how much I love you tonight?" she cries with outstretched arms and the most insincere look of warmth and neediness imaginable.
She attacks materialism while personifying it. When she lashing out against, "that exclusive crap, like those magazines you find in five star hotels", she's sticking it to the man while admiring the thread count on his bed sheets.
And though she mocks Hollywood arrogance and self-importance, so much of her show involves bits about celebrities that she seems a little star-struck. Being a New Yorker who doesn't have cable and attends live theatre most nights, I didn't quite get her routines about Celine Dion, Lenny Kravitz, Sharon Stone and Mariah Carey, though I must admit I chuckled at her delivery of a line involving Britney Spears and The Canterbury Tales.
While making an onstage costume change, she strips down to her bra and panties revealing a figure that proves she is a rebel with not only a cause, but apparently a fabulous personal trainer. Though her vocals are confident and defiant, she seems to mock her own maturity by using overly enthused hand gestures to spell out her lyrics like a cheerleader for the hearing impaired.
Of course, I could be totally wrong in my assessment of what Sandra Bernhard is doing these days at the Daryl Roth Theatre. For all I know she could be, as the kiddies today say, keeping it real. But until I receive an email from Ms. Bernhard kindly informing me that I have been misinterpreting her artistic intentions, I will continue to enjoy her show in the way I see fit. She is kind of endearing, in a f***ed up way.
Photos by Paul Kolnik
