The Origin Of Love: The Songs And Stories Of Hedwig

John Cameron Mitchell - whose three humdrum male names somehow add up to one exceptional drag queen - enters the stage to an overblown glam-rock rendition of Advance Australia Fair. He, as his most iconic character Hedwig, is wearing an outlandish costume that looks a bit like a cubist Optimus Prime.

He takes us through highlights from the original Hedwig And The Angry Inch musical and explains their origins. The multifaceted show is part autobiography, part showbiz behind-the-scenes gossip, part recent European history lesson, part philosophical exploration, part stand-up comedy and part political protest. Mitchell is never less than engaging as he regales us with Hedwig's and his own deeply intertwined stories. Rarely has there been such a complete synthesis of creator and creation. ("Am I speaking as Hedwig or John right now? I don't even know," he or she says).

Mitchell appears to relish revisiting the character and songs that have defined his career. Between renditions of Tear Me Down, Midnight Radio and Angry Inch he explains that Hedwig was his attempt to bridge the gap between Andrew Lloyd Webber and Iggy Pop. The performance, while clearly scripted, is sprinkled with enough off-the-cuff comments and local references to make it feel alive and special (like his remark that his costume looks like it was assembled from leftover materials from Federation Square). More than just a victory lap for Mitchell's most famous creation, the show also includes previews of music from his upcoming podcast musical, Anthem, as well as songs cut from the original film.

Despite some occasionally heavy political subject matter, Mitchell expertly maintains the balance between profundity and levity. The show also functions as a showcase for his many talents. Mitchell is clearly a gifted storyteller; a great writer of songs as well as the between-song monologues. He is particularly adept at accents, adopting Hedwig's East German, his mother's Scottish, New York Jewish, and a surprisingly serviceable Aussie accent.

Mitchell strips away the many layers of his elaborate costume over the course of the show, including Hedwig's famous wig, until he's just a middle-aged man in a very nice dress. His five-piece backing band includes Amber Martin, who sings the hell out of a hammy, histrionic version of David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, before joining Mitchell for a duet of If I Needed You by country balladeer Townes Van Zandt. The moment in the two-hour, two-encore show that comes closest to being shocking is when Martin tears off her dress and finishes the show wearing nothing but a full-body fishnet stocking and some black nipple tape.

Hedwig has lost some of its transgressive, countercultural edge in the 20 years since the musical debuted off-Broadway. In that time, transgender and genderqueer people have moved closer to the mainstream, due in part to cultural trailblazers like Hedwig. But it is nonetheless enormously fun watching a drag queen perform in a venue that more commonly hosts orchestras, resulting in sights like Mitchell crowd-surfing about as successfully as is possible in a seated concert hall while wearing a skirt. It's a great finale to a glorious celebration of genderqueer culture, a tribute to tearing down walls and revealing every angry inch of one's true self.