“Sultry, playful, and just good fun”
Hersh Dagmarr is a queer singer and visual artist based in London. On stage at Crazy Coqs, a lavish cabaret venue located inside Brasserie Zédel, he performs a selection of classic Hollywood songs, from ‘Black Market’ (A Foreign Affair, 1948) through to ‘More’ (Dick Tracy, 1990). If you’re in the mood for an evening of glitz and glam, nostalgia and sass, look no further. Dagmarr’s Dimanche successfully resurrects the old-world charm of black-and-white film, paying homage to cinematic legends such as Marlene Dietrich, Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth.
The outfits alone are a sight to behold. Dagmarr sports several killer looks: a fitted suit with sequin shoulder pads, an oversized fur coat, a white silk headscarf with jet-black shades. Each ensemble screams diva, or femme fatale, especially when combined with the singer’s camp airs and sultry smiles. The venue plays its part as well; with its Art Deco interior, bright red curtains, small table lamps and a fully stocked bar positioned to the left of the stage, Crazy Coqs looks just like a hip club from the 1930s.
When it comes to shows like Dagmarr’s Dimanche, much of the entertainment value lies in the creation of atmosphere. If you are sat in the middle of the audience, cradled by ambient light and sipping a glass of heady cognac, this means that the job is already halfway done. You have already begun to be transported backwards in time, primed for the ghosts of the silver screen by your sumptuous surroundings. Add to these surroundings a flashy singer indulging in sentimental sprechgesang (a 20th century vocal technique that bridges speech and singing), and the illusion is almost complete.
In a venue like Crazy Coqs, the space alone readily delivers a superficial ‘wow factor’, which complicates critical judgement. We all enjoy a bit of escapism. So, beyond the general appeal of a fun, themed night out, how does this particular show fare? It must be said that Dagmarr is an excellent showman. He holds the audience’s attention with every slinking movement and brings just the right amount of panache to songs like ‘Put the Blame on Mame’ (famously performed by Rita Hayworth in 1946). His voice is warm, his gestures charismatic.
However, Dagmarr is overly reliant on gimmicks. His cabaret alter ego, the ghost of an anonymous Weimar Berlin performer who guides you through the show, is a case in point. Whilst entertaining in the moment, it remains vague and lacks substance. It is a pleasing background effect, nothing more. Dagmarr is also a better showman than he is a singer. This is not to say that he sings poorly. He sings very well, just not with the kind of voice that captures the hearts of a generation. Dagmarr is not Streisand, for he lacks the power. Still, judging by such lofty standards feels unfair. Dagmarr’s Dimanche is supposed to be an evening of light entertainment in the city, a chance to step away from the mundane for a few hours, and in this it more than succeeds. Even if it is not quite a knock-out, it is still an awful lot of fun. If you are tempted to catch Dagmarr in the coming months, do check out his upcoming residency at the Rose of Elagabalus in March. Alternatively, you can watch his cabaret show at Circle & Star, the new theatre in Hampstead. You’ll go home feeling like Monroe.