There are only a handful of holiday traditions I treasure: Christmas caroling at tattoo parlors, consuming candy until I shit Yule logs of sugar, and playing the game "Who's my real dad?" with my mom over a few pitchers of wine.
This year, I add Homo for the Holidays to that list. Simply put, it's a fucking delight.
Celebrating its fifth year, Homo is the glitter-bombarded brainchild of burlesque queen Kitten LaRue and drag stars Lou Henry Hoover and Ben DeLaCreme. It opens with a gift to the audience: Hostess DeLaCreme announces that for one night, straights become honorary homosexuals. "The gift of gay is the greatest gift I have to give," she trills as a cast stocked with Dickensian waifs, Twink Jesus, bare-naked Candy, and a triumphantly hairless Gingerbread Man break into refrains of "It's the most wonderful time to be queer." The cast makes good on its gift by forcing audience members to embrace Christmas with a level of passion and camp that's otherwise missing in Seattle's theater scene. (I've sat through six Christmas shows this season, and only Homo joins my perennial favorite, Dina Martina, in my cold little heart.)
The show loosely revolves around DeLaCreme's upcoming Christmas party and one angel's desire to finally earn her wings (LaRue). Each short cabaret-style skit plays to the strengths of a talented cast of actors—from flashy musical numbers to Shirley Temple–esque tap-dancing routines. Highlights include Gingerbread Man (Faggedy Randy) stripteasing to a glass of milk, G-rated reindeer play with Cherdonna and Lou, and a rousing mashup of "Hava Nagila" and Eiffel 65's "Blue" (Jinkx Monsoon and Major Scales). But Twink Jesus (ilvs strauss) steals the show during a conversation with Dad-God that is equal parts hilarious and touching, blasphemous and earnest. Here's a taste: God, speaking through West Hall's waterfall chandelier, drops by to sing "Happy Birthday" to his one and only incarnate. As Jesus talks about how broken up he is over being dumped by Judas, God jokes about smiting him and expresses His sincere hope that Jesus can find "a nice Jewish boy" to settle down with.
At the end of the night, a few narrative threads are left hanging—Jesus's birthday party is dropped without a word and, after hours of buildup, LaRue's exhaustive quest for wings is simplistically solved through song (and did I miss the bell ringing?). But frankly, it's hard to give a fuck. As DeLaCreme says, "Christmas is just Pride in a different color scheme," and Homo for the Holidays has so very much to be proud of.