We hit the bright lights of theatrical San Francisco last night with our friends John and Dan by going to the see Dame Edna Live and Intimate In Her First Last Tour. We’d seen the old girl’s last two shows when she blew through town; both were plenty, plenty funny, but the second one had seemed like enough of a retread (the word “stale” hung in the air) that we hadn’t planned to go to this one, but John popped up with tickets and suddenly we were off for a night of audience bashing and the astonishingly klutzy hoofing she specializes in.
It’s true there’s an air of familiarity to these shows (perhaps “fond memories” would be a more accurate, or charitable, description,) but I also laughed until my face hurt, so I’m not complaining.
A huge part of the show are the gladiolas she tosses into the crowd throughout the show, and especially at the end. We were about eight rows back, safe from the interaction with audience that’s such an amusing part of the act, so I never expected to snag a gladdie, much less have it literally fall into my lap, but it did. The queen in front of me started to turn around as if she was going to snatch it up, but I hissed at her and she settled right down.