Kiki & Herb in Pardon Our Appearance melds catchy music with sultry ennui and knock-out, drag-down cabaret.

By Jolene Munch

Kiki & Herb in Pardon Our Appearance is not at all what one may expect from a cabaret-style show featuring a drag queen and her piano-playing sidekick. It has heart. Serious heart. From Radiohead’s lovely ballad “No Alarms and No Surprises” to Bonnie Tyler’s melodramatic musical saga “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” Kiki and Herb portray two fabulously bittersweet washed-up lounge singers who have seen it all.

Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company’s latest production is staged at Source Theatre through November 17th, and it's more than just a slapstick musical spoof; it’s a comical sketch of a singing duo that presents cabaret in a whole new light. Where else can you witness a beautifully dolled-up drag queen belt out hardcore rap, then tell the gut-wrenching (albeit modified) tale of Footprints, the Bible-bookstore? Kiki & Herb’s story is more than just a conglomeration of ridiculously insane melodies. Its lasting message, buried beneath David Bowie’s “Space Odyssey of Major Tom” and Mary J. Blige’s “No More Drama” is, as Kiki reveals, that “People die, ladies and gentlemen. That’s all you need to know.”

Kiki & Herb creators Justin Bond (Kiki) and Kenny Mellman (Herb) have developed their polished act over the past five years, yet nothing about this duo is stale. To their credit, Bond and Mellman have created two unlikely crooners who need each other and who thrive on their audience’s applause. What evolves over the 90-minute performance is not complete, but instead offers mere glimpses into their long history together. Kiki & Herb were once the belles of the ball in Monte Carlo (or so they say), and were cabaret performers when cabaret wasn’t cool. According to the pair, they have made it through the glitz and the glitter, the doldrums and the dust, to emerge triumphantly. They celebrate their victory by regaling us with the golden days of cabaret acts, a splendid toast to days gone by.

Doug Wright’s direction is subtle and non-invasive, although it could have driven the arc a little better. Not too much is expected by way of action or exposition in a cabaret-themed script, but let’s not let Wright off the hook, with a few creative choices in staging, this production could have had more sparkle than Kiki’s headpiece. Daniel Ettinger’s set is stylish and appropriate, with excellent and innovative lighting design by Woolly’s own Hana Sellers. Her decisions are thoughtful and deliberately executed.

There’s no doubt that Justin Bond’s Miss Kiki is a diva. Her kooky, majestic spectacle is the perfect bright contrast to Bond’s rough, gritty vocals. As Kiki slurrs through her endless shtick, she physically deteriorates. She falls apart piece by piece by evening’s end (and it has little to do with the frequent booze-sipping that eventually drags her down). Bond’s character is sad, very sad, but still strong. She is clearly a survivor who will make it.

Mellman’s Herb is the loveable piano-playing sideshow whose back-up vocals are just as integral to the act as Kiki’s own star power. Mellman is hysterical as the shadow-voice we seldom notice; but when we do, we hear it loud and clear. He is content to give Kiki the floor, and she is more than happy to accept. For this reason alone one can’t fault Mellman for wanting to sit back and tickle the ivories all night as Kiki regales the audience with Herb’s own poignant “gay Jew-tard” story.

For all of its frenetic energy and pulsating tunes, Kiki & Herb in Pardon Our Appearance manages to somehow transcend the superficial “cabaret on crack” tone it exudes publicly. It is an evening that cleverly delves into the surreal abyss of human sadness and, ultimately, the wisdom that we acquire as we age. After all, Miss K tells it best as she warns, “listen to Kiki… maybe you’ll learn something.”

To kick back with Kiki & Herb through November 17th, visit Woolly Mammoth’s website at www.woollymammoth.net or call (202) 289-2443 for tickets. Source Theatre is located at 1835 Fourteenth Street, NW WDC.

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Jolene Munch is a self-proclaimed freelance theatre junkie, philosopher, and Pisces with a bad habit of actually trying to satiate her muse by pursuing her relentless "life in the theatre" calling. Transplanted from the Land Theater Forgot (a.k.a. Florida), she is a proud resident of DC and wonders when she will land her national television spot as the quirky redhead next-door neighbor.