Dylan Mulvaney, the transgender performer best known for an ill-fated 2023 branding deal with Bud Light that created a media firestorm that led to boycotts of the beer, embraces all of her many contradictions in an ebullient, slickly produced solo show with a title that pumps irony on multiple levels: The Least Problematic Woman in the World. She’s a woman who found herself trapped in a man’s body for much of her life, a trans woman who clings to her upbringing as a twink musical-theater kid, and the offspring of a devout Catholic mom who has retained elements of her religious upbringing in forging her identity both onstage and off.
Even before the performance starts, Mulvaney wanders the aisles of the Lucille Lortel Theatre dressed as a literal angel, with a layered white mini-dress, white go-go boots, and feathered wings attached to her arms extending beyond her well-manicured hands. It’s one of a series of perky, colorful costumes (designed by Enver Chakartash) that she will don during the 85-minute show — not counting the outrageous looks she adopts during video segments (designed by Caite Hevner) that are seamlessly integrated into her live routine on Tom Rogers’ pink-hued set. We see her playing other angels, her mom, her mom’s friends, a homophobic priest, various TV hosts and news anchors, and a whole chorus of backup singers. (We also get vocal and video cameos from the likes of Alan Cumming, Rosie O’Donnell, Glee alum Chris Colfer, and Queer Eye‘s Jonathan van Ness.)
It’s a tour de force performance, full of personality, spunk, and playfulness that dramatize the nuances of her TikTok-documented pandemic-era transition. She has the gee-wiz energy of an old-school children’s TV show host, allowing her to present tricky concepts about gender politics with candy-colored metaphors that would be right at home in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. For instance, she portrays her search for a gender identity as a train journey from the Binary station until she gets out at the “she/they” station, one stop before “she/her.” “I’m cool to take a ‘they’ for the road,” she explains. “But I really gotta go to piss. And I kinda need to shit too. I couldn’t figure out which bathroom to use so I’ve been holding it for like a year and half.”
Mulvaney, a Broadway alum who was in the ensemble of The Book of Mormon just before the 2020 COVID shutdown, studs her performance with a handful of original tunes (credited to Abigail Barlow, Toby Marlow & Lucy Ross, Ingrid Michaelson, and Mark Sonnenblick) that include a witty opening title number, a club-beat banger about transitioning titled “Kill That Twink,” and a wordy closing number that she improbably turns into a sing-along, complete with projected lyrics embellished with a bouncing ball.
While Mulvaney delves into some darker material, including the caustic criticism she;s faced from both anti-trans politicians and public figures in the wake of the Bud Light brew-haha, she keeps the tone remarkably light — and doesn’t deign to name names. (The closest she comes is introducing a vituperative TV personality named “Kelly” who seems to modeled on former Fox News host Megyn Kelly.) Throughout, Mulvaney maintains an upbeat twink sensibility (which she dubs early on as “skinny, hairless, and opionated”) which turns the recognition of her gender identity into an occasion not of angst and trauma so much as befuddled surprise. When a mysterious offstage voice whispers, “You’re trans,” her responses play on the sorts of stereotypes pervasive in pop culture on which she’s centered so much of her life: “But I’m not a sex worker on Law and Order SVU,” she tells the voice. “But I’m not a serial killer that wears the skin of my victims.”
She also takes the time to acknowledge the criticism she’s faced from some in the trans community. That’s partly due to her pursuit of mainstream recognition through partnerships like that notorious beer promotion (a likely result of her privilege as a skinny upper-middle-class white woman who can easily pass as female, a point she never really acknowledges). It’s also a response to her millennial tendency to overshare, like her decision to document her transition via TikTok in all its inchoate messiness instead of postponing her public coming out until she was, in her words, “fully cooked.”
Introspection, however, is not really Mulvaney’s forte. Under Tim Jackson’s brisk direction, Mulvaney never dwells too long on the downbeats in her story, preferring to apply a fresh coat of hot-pink lipstick or break into song. That better suits Mulvaney’s ebullient personality and her irrepressible sense of fun. It’s a beautiful day in her gayborhood, and The Least Problematic Woman in the World is the most fabulous block party around. ★★★★☆
THE LEAST PROBLEMATIC WOMAN IN THE WORLD
Lucille Lortel Theatre, Off Broadway
Running time: 85 minutes (with no intermission)
Tickets on sale through October 19 for $30 to $90
Culture Sauce 