Joan Crawford is alive and bitchy at the Plush Room! Well, to be truthful, the real JC is dead and gone, but you'd swear she was alive when you catch postmodern male actress John Epperson as the nationally acclaimed Lypsinka doing her best mommie dearest in the Bay Area debut of The Passion of the Crawford, directed by Kevin Malony. Utilizing the actress' own words, The Passion of the Crawford is "a fantasia on the persona of an alternately complex and simple 20th century cultural icon--the renowned Hollywood glamour goddess, Joan Crawford."  Epperson as Lypsinka gives audiences an exceptional evening with the legendary JC, recreating performances of two of her favorite works of literature,  "Desiderata"--the classic poetic declaration of how to live peacefully (interrupted incessantly by a loud, ringing phone) and, for a bit more irony, a dramatic interpretation of a text about the importance of caring for our children, written especially for her. Yeah, sure. The Passion features a live interview during one of her last public appearances. Tickets to all performances, running through May 21, may be purchased by calling (866) 468-3399 or online at EmpirePlushRoom.com.

John Epperson, the creator and performer of the glamour goddess Lypsinka, was born in Hazlehurst, Mississippi; but we won't hold that against her. Epperson and Lypsinka are the subjects of an Emmy-winning television documentary for PBS. Formerly a rehearsal pianist at American Ballet Theater, subsequently the composer/lyricist/book writer of two musicals, Ballet of the Dolls and Dial M for Model, Epperson's theatrical career as Lypsinka was launched in I Could Go On Lip-Synching! And Lypsinka! a Day in the Life was produced by the New York Theater Workshop, receiving two Drama Desk nominations, including Most Unique Theatrical Experience. She also appears in the George Michael video, "Too Funky" as "a very stylish girl." This gal knows her way around theater, to be sure.
Steve Hasley is her talented co-star at the Plush Room. His major TV appearances have been on Will and Grace, Six Feet Under, and Nip/Tuck. He appeared off-off Broadway in Imitation of Imitation of Life with Lypsinka. He comes to us from The Passion of the Crawford in LA this past October. 

Not one spoken word is uttered during the whole show. Everything is lip-synching (extremely accurate, mind you) taken from actual Joan appearances, but cleverly edited and interspersed with various other Joan moments, including the takeoff movie, Mommie Dearest. The furniture onstage is very Nouveau Art with silver chairs and a large, ornate lamp. The reporter (Hasley) sits on the chair to the left and interviews Joan on the right. A grand piano overflows with a huge spray of flowers, and Crawford's autobiography, My Way of Life, stands upright, next to the floral display. With the sweeping sound of a full orchestra on tape, the diva appears in red satin, looking slightly nervous and shy with her big lips quivering. "You've done more for eyebrows, lips, and shoulders than anyone else in the world," the journalist comments. Lypsinka has every subtle and not so subtle nuance of JC down pat. Each gesture and facial expression is economically administered--just enough and not too much. This is not your usual over-the-top drag impersonation. That would be cheap and easy. This is a skilled actress doing a flawless interpretation. "Don't you sometimes feel like just letting go?" the interviewer queries. She answers with a shaking head, lips closed, with a very succinct, "Mm-mm." She keeps dodging the questions about other actresses, even though the interviewer and audience are dying to hear the dirt about her rival, Bette Davis. To distract us, she flings open her cape to reveal a display of rubies encircling her neck and plunging a foot or more in length, draping and dripping down her bodice. Later on she slips a bit and confesses, "Working with Bette Davis as Baby Jane was one of the greatest challenges I've ever had," and quickly corrects herself, "I meant that kindly;" but her facial expression says otherwise. She plays down, "Bette is of a different temperament than I." She has great praise, however, for the leading men (Clark Gable, Gregory Peck, James Taylor, James Stuart, Spencer Tracy, etc.) she has worked with. She adores Glenda Jackson, Elizabeth Taylor, and both Hepburns: Kathryn and Audrey. She thinks it tacky for actors to go onstage receiving their Oscars and getting political. "Just accept and be grateful for the honor, and don't try to make your pleas," she says disdainfully. She doesn't like sex on the screen, and makes no boners about it.

Lyp inserts little understated touches to her act, such as wiping her hand after the interviewer touches it, indicating her aversion to germs. She doesn't do live theater and explains, "I was born in front of the camera, and I really can't do anything else." After her interviewer questions her disciplinary attitudes towards her children, the music suddenly swells with emotion and we are present at another interview, where Hasley brilliantly portrays yet another journalist, as well as both Christina and Christopher--not all that happy about having to give back most of their presents to orphans and children in hospitals. She reasons, "I believe most of the kids are on pot and other junk because they don't have enough discipline at home." And maybe they should be tied to their beds at night. Upon mention of her being a big tycoon at Pepsi Cola, she whips out a bottle for product placement. She later utters those notorious boardroom words, "Don't fuck with me, fellas!"

The interviewer turns the show over to questions from the audience, which are all pre-recorded and ingeniously handpicked for Lyp's show. Periodically Joan will burst into song (not altogether unpleasant) as an abundance of bubbles shower the audience. We discover the other last names Joan might have taken: Joan Arden and Joan Cranberry. Thank God she didn't go with those. She speaks about her famous high heeled, ankle strap shoes, saying, "I think I know the first letter is 'f'," and both the recorded audience and actual audience roars. Which is the response any Plush Room audience cannot help but express throughout. This show is hysterical, without having to insert too much hysteria. The crazy broad-shouldered broad is portrayed in an almost restrained manner. But never too reserved. After all, this is that mad diva, Joan Crawford!