Scream queen: Van Reigersberg’s haunting performance inspires.

Stage

Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Azuka and Line at Luna Theater Company.

by J. Cooper Robb

The Azuka Theatre hits paydirt with artistic director Kevin Glaccum’s gloriously raunchy and poignant production of John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask’s gritty rock musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

Set in the fabulously dingy and intimate performance space at the Latvian Society, Azuka’s production kicks off in high style with the glamorous transgender punk rock goddess Hedwig (thrillingly portrayed by Dito van Reigersberg) taking the stage accompanied by her ex-drag queen husband Yitzhak (the fantastic Kim Carson) and her scruffy band the Angry Inch.

Though playful and charismatic, Hedwig carries scars of a difficult childhood and broken love affairs, including a troubled relationship with rock ’n’ roll superstar Tommy Gnosis (van Reigersberg)—which includes an infamous joyride down Broad Street involving cocaine, a blow job and a deadly accident between Tommy’s limo and a school bus full of deaf children. This tragic story is but one of many Hedwig recalls from her life growing up in East Berlin, where she discovered the thrill of rock ’n’ roll and the joys of sex.

Glaccum’s staging is a bold departure from past productions of Inch. Reconceived as a young boy’s rock ’n’ roll fantasy, the production employs illusion and role-playing to challenge our perceptions of gender and sexual identity. Though born a shy boy named Hansel, Hedwig defies gender identification: In van Reigersberg’s bravura performance she’s both all man and all woman.

Perhaps best known as a co-founder of the vaunted Pig Iron Theatre Company, van Reigersberg performs a monthly cabaret show as his drag persona Miss Martha Graham Cracker, an experience that serves him well in his portrayals of Hedwig and Tommy. Two halves of a whole, van Reigersberg’s dual portrayals aren’t so much a performance as a transformation, a bit of theatrical sorcery in which van Reigersberg seems to conjure the conjoined pair from within himself. Whatever his methods, it’s a startling thespian feat, one that demands to be seen by anyone interested in daring, soul-exposing theater.

A feverish mix of blistering rockers and powerful ballads, Trask’s music and lyrics are reminiscent of Ray Davies and the Kinks. Millie Hiibel’s costumes, Joe Martin and David Myers’ animation, Karen Getz’s retro choreography and set designer Dirk Durossette’s stage encased in barbed wire capture the show’s pointed cheekiness beautifully.

Like all great works of theater, Inch gives us the opportunity to examine ourselves. In van Reigersberg’s engaging portrayal, Hedwig is neither a stranger nor freak, but rather those parts of ourselves we often hide from public view. In the show’s transcendent conclusion, these hidden elements are embraced in the union of Hedwig and Tommy.

In the glare of the spotlight, blond wig and makeup tossed aside, the masculine and feminine, rock star and recluse merge and Hedwig/Tommy stands before us “shining like the brightest star on the midnight radio.” Amazing.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Postmodern Wrought

Luna Theater Company concludes its season with a mildly compelling production of Israel Horowitz’s absurdist work Line. Horowitz’s concept is simple: A man waits by a line on the stage floor. Another man enters, stands behind the first and inquires, “Wanna trade places?” Soon, four men and one woman are all waiting in a line. They don’t know what they’re waiting for; it doesn’t matter. What does matter a great deal to the five is who’s first, and as the 50-minute play evolves, it’s clear that each is prepared to do whatever it takes to occupy the lead position in line. Unlike in nature, where competition is often necessary, in Line the competition is all about status and power. Horowitz rages full force against the futility of this mindless competition, but the play takes an unnecessary turn when the men compete not only for their spot in line but also for the affections of the lone woman. Director Gregory Campbell and the five-member cast hold our attention throughout, but the slight Line never amounts to more than a minor work from a major dramatist. (J.C.R.) >> Through May 11. $20-$35. Walnut Street Theatre Studio 5, 825 Walnut St. 215.704.0033. www.lunatheater.org