Victor/Victoria
Zebra Crossing Productions
Esplanade Theatre

The central premise here is designed to make your head spin – a woman acting as a man who acts as a woman. It suggests a playful exploration of gender roles and a tuneful look at the slippery boundary between masculinity and femininity.
So we have Victoria Grant (jazz singer Laura Fygi), a down-and-out English singer in 1930s Paris, transforming into Count Victor Grazinski, female impersonator extraordinaire, at the suggestion of her friend, has-been actor Toddy (Matt Grey).
Things get sticky when Chicago mobster King Marchan (Jake Macapagal) falls for Victor/Victoria. Can King man up to the possibility that he has fallen for another man? Will Victoria reveal her secret and risk throwing away her resurgent career?
Unfortunately, what should have been compelling questions hardly piqued this reviewer’s interest because of major problems with casting. Physically, there was no doubt that Victor(ia) was a woman even when she was dressed in a tuxedo. There was no hint of androgyny in Fygi’s generous figure and, instead of ambiguous layers of gender role-playing, we got a straightforward portrayal of a woman in men’s clothes. It made all the floor-pacing and hand-wringing over her identity seem silly when it was so obvious that there was no Victor.
While her smoky and husky alto have won her fans in the jazz world, it was a stretch for the audience to accept her as a soprano who can hit a G flat and shatter glass. To make matters worse, there was no chemistry between her and Macapagal, who spoke with an odd affectation and sounded like lisping Tweety Bird at times. Almost A Love Song, a duet that is supposed to be moving, barely had any emotional resonance.
It was left to the supporting cast to step up and Nicole Stinton stole the show with her ballsy turn as King’s ditzy moll, Norma Cassidy, especially for the comic number Paris Makes Me Horny. Grey also impressed as the flamboyant and loyal Toddy.
The handsome sets and effective lighting helped convey not just time and place but also mood. The elaborate costumes were a visual treat and in a nifty nod to the theme, there were women in trousers and men in corsets at the nightspot Club Chez Lui.
After a rather sluggish first half, the pace picked up after the intermission. There was a competently staged set piece of slamming doors and intricately timed exits and entrances between two adjoining hotel suites as several characters tried to avoid running into each other. Still, the zip and zing of a perfect execution was not achieved.
The musical ended with an upbeat message of inclusiveness but this reviewer left with his head resolutely unspun, his funny bone tickled only occasionally and his heart largely untouched.
(ST)