Hey, kids! Let's put on a show!

Last night I saw Rufus Wainwright at the Hollywood Bowl; he re-created the performance Judy Garland gave there in 1962, just as he channeled her for his show at Carnegie Hall last year. Sean and Curtis bought me tickets for my birthday back in April, and although Curtis was out of town and couldn't attend last evening's show, I enjoyed the company of Sean, Norman, and my mother-in-law Heidi.

We all met up at the Red Line station in Universal City and took the train one stop to Hollywood and Highland, where we ate dinner at Johnny Rocket's before hoofing it up the hill to the Bowl. For those of you who have never walked that route, let me say that it's a deceptively strenuous hike: it's maybe half a mile up a gentle slope that grows punishing very gradually, so that by the time you hit the Bowl entrance you're winded. As we slogged up the suddenly steep rise to the bag inspection area, Norman huffed, "You should have brought your pedometer." I grunted something in agreement, and he said, "I mean your defribrillator."

While we were trudging up the hill, I heard a woman remark to her companion, "It's like we're marching in a gay pride parade." Sean noted that women were in short supply in the audience, a fact Norman echoed later on when he commented on the fast-moving but extremely long line for the men's room, while the women's room appeared all but deserted. I figured Rufus' own fan base plus the Judy Garland angle were the major factors in determining the audience makeup. Sean and I ended up sitting behind an affectionate male couple who kind of bothered me. As a rule, I don't have any problem with public displays of affection, gay or straight. But these guys looked disconcertingly like each other, with the same shaved heads, stocky build, and multiple piercings; it was like seeing identical twins make out with one another.

We had really good seats about halfway up the Bowl, far closer to the stage than I had ever been before. (When I buy tickets for the Hollywood Bowl, I usually go for the ultra-cheap wooden benches up in nosebleed territory.) I brought my own pillow to sit on, and Sean had brought two pairs of binoculars, so we were in good shape for the evening.

Rufus put on quite a show. Let me be upfront and say that yes, he's a terrific singer. But the fact that he is extremely easy on the eyes doesn't hurt, either. (That reminds me: A number of years ago, when his career was just taking off, I looked up Rufus online to find out something about him. He didn't have his own website then, but I found a number of fansites that all seemed to be run by 14-year-old girls and all seemed to be along the lines of, "Look! I found this great picture of Rufus in The Advocate! Isn't he dreamy? I love him!" To which I could only sigh, "Oh, honey. Did you read the accompanying article? Do you get it?") I really liked scruffy Rufus from his Poses period, but he looked quite dapper all cleaned-up for last night's performance; when he came out for his encore dressed like Judy in a tiny little jacket, stockings and high heels, I was astonished by what nice legs he has.

I'm a big fan of popular standards and old showtunes, so I recognized most of the set list. The ones that really got to me were "Do It Again" (which I've only heard as a bouncy, silly come-on song, but which Rufus slowed down to a heartbreaking lament), "Puttin' on the Ritz," and "Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart." He ended up breathless by the end of several songs and his voice was ragged by evening's end; maybe it was a sign of his not being properly prepared for the performance, but I think it was more an indication of how much effort Judy Garland threw into putting on a show.

A few weeks ago, when his new album came out, I read an interview with Rufus in the L.A. Times in which he seemed pretty cocky -- not arrogant and not unpleasant, just very sure of himself and his talent. His banter last night was light and funny and self-deprecating, not at all like the cocksure young guy in the article. He invited his mother, the wonderful Kate McGarrigle, onstage to play piano on a couple of numbers, and their back-and-forth was delicious, with him as the flamboyant showman and her as the slightly world-weary, not-quite straight man; they should consider doing a nightclub act together. Rufus' sister Martha also came out and sang bang-up versions of "Stormy Weather" and "Someone to Watch Over Me." Lorna Luft joined him for a couple of numbers, too, which I'm sure drove the Judy Garland fans into a rabid frenzy, but... whatever. Her hot pink gown was pretty.