There are a lot of reasons for this, some of which speak to how audiences — both gay and straight — related to both traditional musical theater and rock ’n’ roll. The best thing about Hedwig and the Angry Inch is how it can unite all theater-going (and some non-theater-going) audiences.I became obsessed with Hedwig when, as the A&E editor for Gambit Weekly down in New Orleans, I profiled the actor Flynn De Marco and the theater troupe he co-founded with Richard Read, Running With Scissors. Under the tutelage of an excellent local director, Carl Walker, they turned Hedwig from a typical month-long summer production into a nearly four-month phenomenon back in 2001. I also was fortunate to catch Actor’s Express’ production in 2003, as well as a rather humble one in Biloxi, Miss.

Rock ’n’ roll has had a rather sketchy relationship with musical theater over the years. From the moment Bye Bye Birdie hit the Great White Way back in 1961, there was always the feeling that rock music just didn’t quite fit in with the “Let’s put on a show!” fabulousness of musicals. (It might be worth noting that Charles Strouse, the man behind the music of Bye Bye Birdie, also scored Annie.) For years, it was as if rock was an oddity to Broadway.

Then came the late 1970s, and a trio of now-kitschy stabs at rock ’n’ roll: Hair (1972), Jesus Christ Superstar (1973), and Godspell (1977). Time and time again, Broadway kept dancing around the edges of rock — the R&B inflections, the psychedelic trances, the ’60s idealism — but not the guts of rock. These musicals felt like they were more about an era, the ’60s, than a genre, forgetting how inextricably interwoven the two were.

“Musical theatre has only paid lip-service to rock ’n’ roll — in large part because they’re different audiences,” says Read. “Rock ’n’ roll isn’t scripted, it’s messy by nature. All those musicals you mention — they’re choreographed to within an inch of their lives. Hedwig is messy. Also, it’s actually staged as a rock show, as opposed to simply containing rock music. That helps push the rock vibe.”

It wasn’t until Richard O’Brien’s brilliant 1973 British musical The Rocky Horror Show came over to the States in 1975 that rock felt at least a little bit more organically developed — even if Rocky too was more satire than homage. One could argue, though, that this being the first musical with a more true gay sensibility at work, the lines between satire and homage blurred much more so than they did with Bye Bye Birdie — or even, say, 1980’s Grease. (And 1985’s spectacular Dreamgirls was more about black rhythm & blues’ uneasy relationship with rock ’n’ roll than rock itself.)

This is where camp also demands to be taken more seriously from an emotional context. The freaks of The Rocky Horror Show hint that their freakishness goes beyond a silly lab experiment and to a planet far, far away — from mainstream culture. In the closing song, “Super Heroes,” Frank N Furter laments, “I’ve done a lot/God knows I’ve tried/To find the truth/I’ve even lied/But all I know/Is down inside/I’m bleeding.” We all may laugh at ourselves when we play dress-up at the midnight-movie screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but there’s something undeniably serious going on here, something with a rock ’n’ roll edge. It may be a bit silly, a bit drag-queenish, but it’s very real.

Rent (1996) tried desperately to feel authentic, but it rings so hollow I can barely discuss the musical. Many probably believe this was the rock tragedy everyone’s been waiting for, but looking at Generation X through a La Boheme lens felt so incredibly artificial and so self-conscious, I could barely hang on after intermission the time I saw the Broadway touring show. (Indeed, the musical felt more concerned about the timelessness of opera than rock.) In one of the great ironies of musical theater, the late Jonathan Larson’s attempt at capturing the authenticity of the Greenwich Village scene did almost the exact opposite, with everyone a “type” and no one a real person.

Even more ironically, Hedwig — with her “Barbie Doll crotch” and her absurd life story and her elliptical future — is as real as it gets, and that’s partly because the rock ’n’ roll in Hedwig is as real as it gets. Certainly derivative, it’s more importantly reverential to a genre and a heroine who is one of the losers that glam rock embraces in its draggy garb.

This may come off as incredibly homophobic, but I also believe it took the “right” kind of gay artists in the musical-theater world to embrace the “right” kind of rock ’n’ roll. While Mitchell came up through first traditional and more off-Broadway productions, Stephen Trask was a member of the house band at a New York drag club called Squeezebox, which performed for everyone from Joey Ramone to Debbie Harry.

In tackling the punk/glam genre from which sprouted David Bowie, the Velvet Underground and Roxy Music, Mitchell and Trask tapped into the first real sub-genre of rock that appealed to a gay and/or bisexual audience, as opposed to those who were attracted to more traditional musical theater.

The alienation that is one of the hallmarks of true rock ’n’ finally proved that it can be the same alienation that is the hallmark of being gay in America. Hedwig finally connected the two.

“There’s no question that gays and musical theater go hand in hand,” Read says. “We’re not the only ones who enjoy it, mind you, but we do, and we help make it happen. However, I think a lot of gays have a much dicier relationship with rock ’n’ roll; it can be awfully homophobic at times — or at least off-puttingly heterocentric. And to be honest, I don’t even think of glam rock as “gay”; it just gave straight guys the chance to put on makeup.

“It’s hard for some gays to get into rock because they have trouble finding groups or singers with whom to identify,” Read continues. “Those of us who enjoy it have to look past all that and enjoy the music for what it is. As far as Hedwig goes, it was definitely a rock show where gays could fit in. It was also really good, true rock music — as opposed to that mediated, wussified crap in Godspell.”

In my review, I suggest that Craig Waldrip as Hedwig comes up a bit short in his performance as Hedwig, and I hope he doesn’t take the criticism too hard. Because the good news is, Hedwig herself is used to taking shots; just listen to “Tear Me Down.” Bloodied and bruised, she always picks herself up and keeps on rocking. That’s what rock ’n’ roll is all about. Finally, that’s what musical theater is about.

(Hedwig/Actor’s Express photo by Coosa Valley Photography; Hedwig/film photo courtesy Fine Line Pictures; Godspell and Rocky Horror photos courtesy Amazon.com)

So the organizers could be forgiven for their delighted grins at Monday morning’s press conference, held at the Old Courthouse in Decatur’s Downtown Square to announce the programming. The conference was hosted by co-founder Daren Wang; and the lineup went live on the website later in the morning.

I’ll dispense with the laundry list of big names, but Decatur native and humorist Roy Blount Jr. was on hand to give an idea of the local flavor at the festival. Blount, a regular on the NPR quiz show “Wait, Wait … Don’t Tell Me!” (carried by WABE on Saturdays at 11 a.m.) has become a fixture at the festival. Some other major names this year include former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins (2001-2003). (Check out his now-famous poem “The Names,” which he read to a joint session of Congress after Sept. 11, 2001.) Other heavyweights include John Dean (pictured) and his new book, Broken Government: How Republican Rule Destroyed the Legislative, Executive and Judicial Branches; Sara Shepard, author of the “Pretty Little Liars” series, who will help kick off the festival’s new “The Escape” programming for teens; and John Bemelmans Marciano, author of Madeline and the Cats of Rome, the first story from the famed “Madeline” series in 50 years. (Marciano is the grandson of the series’ creator, Ludwig Bemelmans.)

OK, so it’s a laundry list. Sue me. The festival runs Aug. 29-31 (Labor Day Weekend) in downtown Decatur.

(For images from the press conference, visit our new Sideshow photo blog.)

In the world according to Jay Louis, there’s no such thing as too many douchebags. No, not the countless politicos that Jon Stewart likes to skewer on “The Daily Show,” but the tatted-up, hair-spiked, shiny-foreheaded, six-pack-packed, hand-symbol-thrusting, shades-sporting, wife-beater-wearing, tongue-thrusting, hand-gesturing and pec-bearing American men who somehow wind up with really attractive women in living color.

Louis, aka douchebag1, hosts the phenomenally popular website Hot Chicks with Douchebags, in which he and alert readers hip the rest of us “normal” folk to the cheesily over-packaged American men hanging out with women who would seem way out of their league. As popular as the site is, the next logical step would seem to be a book, Hot Chicks with Douchebags (Simon Spotlight Entertainment), which fell into our reluctant hands this week and will hit bookstores July 8. The book’s thesis seems simple enough:

In this book, we will identify every type of ’bag within the douche spectrum, from the youthful stage-1 Fratbags to the polluted, noxious stage-4 DJ Club Douche. We will tap directly into the core of not only how douchebaggery manifests, but also how it corrupts the hottie within its wily, greased-up charms. These unnatural cohabitations must be exposed to the disinfecting light of detailed scrutiny if we have any hope of societal redress.

Louis fancies himself a culture critic; his diary-style blog posts are laced with heady name-dropping that actually lead nowhere: “Lighting up a stogie and pouring a shot of rum for Jobu, I contemplated the famous words of 16th Century astronomer Tyco Brahe, who stared up at the Prague skyline one night and casually remarked, ‘I have to pee.’ So I peed.”

It’s all kind of dismissive, smug and superior in a Greg Behrendt/He’s Just Not That Into You kind of way that isn’t nearly as female-empowering as the title suggests. (Women don’t exactly come off that well either.) But HCWD is at its funniest when coming up with the seemingly endless labels for these poor creatures: The Greasy Euro-Douche, The Garden Gnome, The Furry-Man, The “He’s My Best Friend” ’Bag,” and so on. The book’s denouement suggests a 12-step program of “De-Douchification,” which starts with “Accept That You or Your Loved One is a ’Bag” and concludes with “Disband the Woo Hotties and Douche Scrums,” a form of bold group disassociation that would appear to be the height of naivete. (These douches ain’t going away anytime soon.)

Ground Zero for the douchebag, according to Louis, is former ’90s power couple Richard Grieco and “Baywatch” babe Yasmine Bleeth, whose tragic tale is recounted in these pages. It’s all not nearly as funny as Louis thinks he is, but the photos of them, and all the other douchebags/hotties, suggests incontrovertible evidence of their existence.

Now, if we could get a book featuring Dick Cheney, Lord High Douchebag, and his minions, we’d be getting somewhere. But I fear we’ll never see Condi in a thong.

(Photos courtesy Simon Spotlight Entertainment)

Jordan will be plenty busy over the next few days, starting Saturday with a book-release appearance at Outwrite Books. The reading/signing starts at 7:30 p.m.; admission is free. He follows that up with a two-night stand at the 14th Street Playhouse with his one-man show of the same name, Sunday and Monday at 8 p.m.

Unfortunately, the status of the sitcom “12 Miles of Bad Road” (in which he co-stars) seems hopelessly up in the air, according to this article in the San Francisco Chronicle. Anyone know anything different? Perhaps Leslie will enlighten us, in a way only he can, as he shows in this clip taken during his recent Stonewall Columbus fundraiser.

But as chronicled in Entertainment Weekly’s recent profile of Myers, there’s no love lost for him in Hollywood. In a city filled with egomaniacs, Myers seems to be a particular target of scorn. Some think he’s singled out unfairly; others wish he’d just go away. The man who once supposedly had the Midas touch with the Wayne’s World, Austin Powers and Shrek franchises seems to have, ahem, lost his mojo on this one.

I know it’s a predictable bit of pile on, but while I’ve always found Myers amusing, I’ve never really gotten the depths of praise heaped on him over the years. I’ve often thought of him as the right comic talent at the right time, a “Saturday Night Live” sketch genius who had been able to stretch sometimes brilliant gags, sound bites and wordplay into movie-length hits. But, really, how hard did you laugh at any of the Wayne’s World or Austin Powers sequels? (I completely avoided the last AP installment, Goldmember, as well as the third Shrek cuz just I figured it would be more of the same.) Frankly, I think the most daring movie work Myers did was portraying Studio 54 owner Steve Rubell in 1998’s 54. Besides delivering a spot-on mimic job, Myers captured the tragedy of Rubell.

A lot of Myers’ critics believe his style of comedy is already played out. I’m inclined to agree. The thing is, Myers’ style is so facile, it doesn’t warrant much examination. To borrow the current phrase du jour, it is what it is. And that’s just not that much to get excited about. I have a bad feeling that, come Monday, the box-office receipts will bear that out.

(Photo courtesy Paramount Pictures)

We mentioned the Telly Award-winning program in one of our first PopSmart blog posts back in November, so we’re excited to see what happens on Saturday. Jack Walsh and Gordon Ray are the nominated producers of the show, and do an impressive job of providing witty polish to a type of community program that, when not in the right hands, can run on the dull side. This stuff is compelling work, though, reminding Atlantans just how diverse its city really is.Speak of the Tellys, “TIA” is running a “greatest-hits” collection of its Telly-winning program this month. The program won four Tellys: a Bronze for each of its profiles of Georgia Tech’s Robert C. Williams Paper Museum, the Artaxi (my personal favorite), and the Burn Unit breakdance troupe, and a Silver (first place) for the episode that featured the Legynds role-playing group (pictured), the painting elephants at the Atlanta Zoo, Indie Craft Experience, Dragon*Con and Segway Tours.The episode began running last week, but there are plenty of other opportunities to be seen:Friday, June 20, 11:30 p.m.Monday, June 23, 9:40 p.m.Thursday, June 26, 8 p.m.Sunday, June 29, midnightIf you’re impatient and don’t mind watching them on the smaller screen, you can visit the PBA website and watch them here.Also, if you have a tough time catching “This Is Atlanta,” you’re not alone. Due to programming challenges, the show has no set time schedule — although it’s nice to know it runs so frequently throughout the month. July’s episode, currently in production, includes profiles of wheelchair football, kinetic sculpture, and the decidedly funky Seed & Feed Marching Abominable. Look for the confirmed schedule when we review the show next month.(Photo courtesy Jack Walsh)

2) Healthcare NOW rallies against for-profit health insurance companies outside the Buckhead office of Blue Cross Blue Shield.

3) Dr. Lemoine D. Pierce discusses and signs copies of her book, George Washington Carver: Scientist, Artist and Musician, at Auburn Avenue Research Library on African American Culture and History.

4) Documentary photographer Erin Ashford showcases her new mixed-media work in Manipulations at P’Cheen.

5) Marcus Jewish Community Center of Atlanta’s Jewtopia opens at 14th Street Playhouse.

(Photo by Zack Arias)

2) Author Michael Rose discusses and signs Historic Photos of Atlanta at Manuel’s Tavern.

3) Diary of a Madman opens at Holy Innocents’ Episcopal Church.

4) International Rescue Committee and nine Atlanta restaurants partner for World Refugee Day: Make Dining Out Count, a fundraiser for the IRC.

5) For the Waters of Lethe by Richard Sudden continues at Whitespace Gallery.

(Photo courtesy the Band of Heathens)

I wonder whether the media grievers gave a moment of thought to how this Russert torrent they produced played with viewers and readers. Did the grievers really think Russert was so important, so vital to the nation’s course, and such an elevated human being that he deserved hour upon hour of tribute?

There’s also nice pulled quotes from the New York Times‘ Mike Liebovich’s remembrance, which fairly and objectively points out some of Russert’s possible flaws, including my favorite: “Mr. Russert liked to seem sheepishly above-it-all, but was also as acutely status-conscious, befitting the local water.”

What irked me most about Russert was what felt like more than a newsman’s obsession with politics as gamesmanship (a flaw he shared with another former political operative, George Stephanopoulos). His Red State/Blue State carping during the 2002 mid-term elections practically helped make the terms mainstream, which is a shame considering how that kind of jargon has dumbed us all down.

Russert also labored to the point of exhaustion in becoming the news, and oddly his colleagues have lauded him for this. During Sunday’s episode of “Meet the Press,” which fell just short of a circle jerk, Russert was remembered fondly by trying to badger one politician after another into saying with absolute certainty whether they were or weren’t running for higher office. It’s that obsession with “gotcha” journalism that has weakened the profession, and Russert reveled in it. And by the end, it just felt like a cheap gimmick for the show. But what bothered me most about Russert’s eulogies was how he is painted as excessively fair-minded in his challenging interviews. Upon closer scrutiny, they only underscore his “gotcha” mentality, lifting quotes and throwing them at Democrats and Republicans alike, hoping for the embarrassing moment more than the extended dialog.

Which isn’t to say I disliked Russert. Broadcast journalism is worse for his absence. Just look at all the NBC and affiliated network shows he graced. He was a driven journalist who truly seemed to understand far more than most that obsessive preparation and research is the key to newscasting and interviewing. But what do all his many shows and appearances say about him, and NBC? Russert became a giant because he wanted to make himself one, but also because (it could be argued) NBC suffered and still suffers from a dearth of real hard-news talent. Quick: Think of a potential replacement on “Meet the Press” alone, from the NBC stable. David Gregory? Yikes! Andrea Mitchell? Perhaps. I’d take her or PBS’ Gwen Ifill, a Russert acolyte, but it’s no coincidence that former news anchor Tom Brokaw has been doing a lot of the heavy lifting during the Russert tribute week. No one else at NBC has anywhere near the necessary gravitas.

2) Craig Seymour discusses and signs It Was All I Could Bare: My Life in the Strip Clubs of Gay Washington, D.C. at Outwrite Bookstore & Coffeehouse.

3) Harvey Milk performs at the Earl with Pride Parade.

4) Young Blood Gallery presents Samuel Parker’s The Road to Excess.

5) The Spill Canvas visits Masquerade.

(Image by Donna Mintz)