Oraculum: dragging audiences into the future
3 DEC 2024 - Photos by Jeremy Mimnagh

Kayleigh (aka Bimbo) played by Denim aka Emerson Sanderson, runs the PR firm Second Chances, which is currently trying to resurrect the career of JoJo Siwa after her unfortunate claim of inventing "gay pop." Matty (aka Twink) played by Pythia aka Christos Darlasis, is an influencer who labels products with his brand Gape and resells at a profit. The two are BFFs. Through monologues (auditions?) mimicking reality TV confessionals, we learn that Kayleigh is about to be married to an unseen Brad. Matty does not approve. We also learn that Kayleigh is concerned for Matty who blew the last opportunity she sent his way by upgrading himself from cater waiter to wig stylist. What to do? Consult an online psychic who is a low rent throwback to the Psychic Friends Network gone glam mashed with the Wizard of Oz. The psychic, Mme P, appears as projections across a trio of screens that make up the set, all designed by Cosette "Ettie" Pin (Box 4901). The scenes are hilarious, horror flavoured and stunningly effective, so of course they are, besides plot devices, preludes to dramatic lip synch numbers.

And the numbers are spectacular. Darlasis also designed the costumes and Bob Mackie would be envious of the ingenuity and excess. And sequins. Combined with the witty projections this is a drag queen's wet dream. Sanderson and Darlasis are the co-creators (with Lauren Gillis [Mr Truth, The Marquise of O] as ghostwriter) and they romp (with the occasional assist from Lisa E Morrison) through a series of sketches that cohere loosely into a plotline where a malicious twink destroys a bimbo. Director Ted Witzel (Roberto Zucco, Every Little Nookie, Lulu v7, Mr Truth, The Marquise of O, All's Well That Ends Well, La Ronde) joins in the fun but occasionally the pacing drags (no pun intended) when a set piece needs to be moved or a costume change, and there are a multitude, understandably takes extra time. Aside from the Freudian fag hag plotline, there is tentative exploration of our need to attempt to divine the future. Tarot cards feature prominently and an ultra-glam incarnation of the Oracle of Delphi attempts a summation at the end. Twink propounds a very clever thesis on how Grindr provides a primer on assessing character, and Bimbo has some devastatingly funny quips about celebrity and media spin.

All of which is exuberant fun while also being vicious social commentary. Denim and Pythia are Drag Race veterans, and the reality TV format of their monologues raises fundamental questions. Especially when mixed with drag. And then with theatre. There is no way to know what emotions are sincere, if any of them are. Satire piles on reality and comes up short. Charles Ludlam proved definitively, decades ago. that drag and theatre are complementary, both are glorious deceptions that we surrender to willingly. But the very concept of reality TV is fraudulent, it is right in the moniker 'reality.' Twink has a beautiful reveal when we discover the true motivation for his monologues. A moment of intense emotional introspection is revealed to be manufactured. It is a good gag and a horrifying assessment. Yet drag queens manufacture intensity for our enjoyment (and Bimbo suffers operatically and digestively) with only very old school female impersonators attempting the reality that theatre artists strive for. Mme P appears to only exist disembodied online. When her greenscreen glitches, we laugh, but we have been deceived willingly. It is a muddle of confusing contradictions that Oraculum exploits and blithely dismisses, this is the art that it is.

Denim is a buxom victim who wears the most outrageous of outfits casually. She shines in the lip syncs, but when Amazon Prime delivers her a microphone for a monologue, we are all grateful. Her sweet innocence is delightfully undercut as her clothing becomes a series of reveals and is removed. She fakes being demure, winks, and then dives into her faux identity with contagiously raunchy delight. Gender and sexuality become the constructs that they are. Pythia is more complicated, Twink is far past the concerns of queer studies. From hot hairy-chested sex toy in a rainbow speedo, to canny manipulative influencer, Twink is blissfully oblivious of his ruthless rapaciousness. Pythia then goes from Satan to electric Lumiere/David Byrne on steroids, and even becomes the regal Oracle, Pythia crosses more than gender and sexuality boundaries. She is a being beyond species, beyond categorization, beyond definition. Beyond theatre and possibly even beyond drag. But that is putting too much weight on what is two talented artists having fun while werking hard. The moments, brief but telling, when they make eye contact and share a crooked smile that breaks the already fragile fourth wall, are not only camaraderie, they are acknowledging the illusion. Whether that illusion is theatrical or drag, or any of the social constraints they ignore, it is, hopefully, the future. Except, please, for the reality TV part.