In a series called Mondo Bullshittio, let’s talk about some of the most glaring hypocrisies in pop culture… and all that it affects.
While corporate gays (this tends to refer to the GLAAD variety, which perhaps would explain why Congresswoman Alexandria Oscasio-Cortez appears as a judge) have rallied around the season twelve episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race entitled “Madonna: The Unauthorized Rusical” for its efficacy in getting across the “message” about Madonna’s long-standing influence over and advocacy for the LGBTQ+ community, there was an undeniable hollowness to the entire affair. Which, in some respects, might have colored it with an unintentionally meta effect, for Madonna herself has been accused by more “fringe” gays than those who orbit the RuPaul world of being, well, soulless. One is, of course, referring to John Cameron Mitchell–famed writer-director of Hedwig and the Angry Inch–and his take on M circa 2019 when he remarked, “I see no soul there, and it’s all about herself,” further adding, “I appreciate that she spoke up about AIDS and queer people, but there was also a kind of appropriation.”
With this in mind, maybe it’s only fitting that there is absolutely no soul in this episode, with the queens–none of them in the age bracket to appreciate a pop star beyond Ariana Grande, least of all the winner of the challenge, Gigi Goode (who also has no idea who Patti “original Evita” LuPone is)–seeming to force themselves to come up with reasons why they, as gays, ought to worship at the altar of M. Some of the shady dialogue included, “Madonna didn’t have a beard,” with the taunting reply, “I think there was a phase in her career that she had a beard.” This in between the disingenuous, clearly spoon-fed lines, “Thinking about Truth or Dare, which featured all of her queer dancers, and that there weren’t really other artists highlighting the LGBT community” and “I really appreciate Madonna for all the work she’s done for HIV and AIDS and all that.” And all that. How goddamn flaccid. As though loosely acknowledging that Madonna has been the only mainstream artist to not only blaze the trail for HIV/AIDS awareness, but to consistently fight for the rights of LGBTQs with her platform and her pocketbook. But still, because she isn’t “relevant” anymore, it’s just not enough to move a new generation of gays more inspired by female versions of twinks. Indeed, one tends to believe this entire episode was orchestrated solely for non-dainty Michelle Visage’s benefit. Who, incidentally, ain’t the superfan she makes herself out to be, so much as someone who has continued to associate winning a Madonna lookalike competition in 1984 with her own emblematic nature in the gay community.
And 1984, indeed, is largely where the Madonna periods feel trapped, with overt preferential treatment given to her early career, instead of bothering with more challenging looks like those of the Bedtime Stories, American Life, Hard Candy or MDNA albums. Being that use of M’s actual music would be out of the question (and further sacrilegious in terms of the overall bastardization of this woman’s work), we instead have compositions from Erik Paparozzi and David Benjamin Steinberg, who also brought us Cher: The Unauthorized Rusical. Because, again, in order to be a card-carrying gay, one must know their Cher. The duo is earnest in their attempts to make the musical both informative, playful and thorough, a dangerous combination that stems from trying to appeal to all degrees of Madonna fandom–from the novice to the die-hard–tuning in. Naturally, chronological order is best, with Jan kicking off the show in her “Holiday” iteration. As the years wear on, the lyrics start to get niche-ier, with Gigi insisting in her “Papa Don’t Preach” version of Madonna, “Making art isn’t easy but that’s why I do it/Making art isn’t easy and I’ve got the scars to prove it.” Likely a thinly veiled reference to Madonna’s time under the knife in addition to constantly being on the chopping block.
As she was throughout most of her controversial Blond Ambition Tour, the persona of which Brita takes on after “fighting” for the role with Gigi, who ended up doing better off without it anyway (for one can’t really picture her singing, “God bless the gays,” with a straight face). Managing to make one of M’s most iconic eras come across as though she was performing in an eighth grade talent show, a much needed burst of sauciness comes in the form of Jaida Essence Hall singing “Lustify My Brand” in an homage to the “Justify My Love”/Erotica/Sex book era as she declares, “I’m seductive not reductive/I’m erotic/You’re neurotic.” Somehow, though, Jaida’s performance was written off as not being Madonna enough (because heaven forbid we have a black Madonna as the challenge’s winner, with RuPaul being decidedly non-progressive, as recently confirmed by that fracking debacle).
Fittingly, as it has been in life, Madonna’s actress persona is majorly glossed over as Sherry Pie comes out in her “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” ensemble to quickly reference a few of M’s movies (including, much to M’s dismay, Shanghai Surprise–though, to be honest, A Certain Sacrifice would have been the more impressive deep cut). Concluding with, “But what I really want to do is direct–cut, print, moving on!” So they do, to Crystal Methyd as Enlightened Madonna, for, yes, each queen is reduced to something as boiled down to a one word description of a certain era in M’s career. Which, indeed, has been part of her great marketing genius–making herself compressible to this simple of a level. So it is that Crystal takes Madonna’s studies of Kabbalah (which she still practices to this day despite decreased coverage of it) by cracking, “There comes a time in an artist’s career when she decides to seek God and put it in her songs.”
Riffing off the “Bitch I’m Madonna” chorus, Heidi N Closet soon comes out to falsely declare, “I’m M-A-D-O-N-N-A, bitch,” a line all the queens end up singing when they join forces onstage to rattle off song titles rotely as a means to ensure they have the M trivia knowledge to pass the I’m Queer test with flying colors. But the only one to really pass it as far as the judges are concerned is Gigi. A zygote born in the year in between Evita and Ray of Light. Symbolic indeed, for this broad has no significance whatsoever to the Madonna “fempire.” In fact, none of these queens really do–and not just because they “borrow” from pop culture badly (whereas M did it deftly), but because not a one of them is secure enough with themselves to ascend on the raw ambition that Madonna managed to.
Still, Gigi, despite her cursory understanding of Madonna, suddenly seemed to take a shine to the idea of re-creating her “Papa Don’t Preach” makeup while in quarantine. “Every look I do has to have some element of camp,” Gigi assures in the tutorial. This, too, was Madonna’s entire shtick throughout her career, borrowing heavily from another icon who adopted elements of camp for her own sexy-comedic brand: Marilyn Monroe. Ergo camp breeds another (not necessarily higher) tier of campiness with every new sendup of the original camp source–an ad infinitum cycle of one-upping absurdity. Perhaps one that has finally gone so far as to signify nothingness, utter soullessness–to go back to Mitchell’s previous statement.
“I feel like she’s a user. (People) see a sort of desperation in her. She’s trying to remain relevant,” Mitchell concluded. But that level of “desperate” “soullessness” has never stopped her from, in fact, remaining relevant. Just as it hasn’t from this episode being heralded by critics as “hard to top” and “one of the best in herstory” on the Rusical front. My, how standards have lowered since Madonna set the bar with Blond Ambition. And, in truth, the purer essence of this drag queen rendering of Madonna’s incarnations was already created on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House on 9.9.99.
