Joannie Mackenzie
It’s Never Too Late to Pole Dance
Don’t Tell Mama, NYC, October 7, 2023
Reviewed by Randolph B. Eigenbrode
Joannie Mackenzie
In the darkened showroom, a lithe figure wearing an almost oversized tulle skirt made her way to the microphone. Her long neck, covered in a floral choker, was nervously straightened as two fishnet-covered gloves grabbed the microphone. With a pile of red hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes, Joannie Mackenzie looked out to the crowd. The “schizophrenic songstress” is a sight to see, and hastily, she cut to the chase. “There is reality and there is fantasy,” and “when fantasy becomes reality, that’s where I’ll build my home.”
Throughout the course of the evening Mackenzie teetered between fanciful illusion and sobering truth. Yet for the first 15 minutes, at least, the audience was treated to a trio of songs each more precious than the previous one: first, a sweet “Occasional Flight of Fancy” (Sammy Cahn/Jimmy Van Heusen), then a simple “Cockeyed Optimist” (Richard Rodgers/Oscar Hammerstein), and finally a dreamy “Never Never Land” (Jule Styne/Betty Comden & Adolph Green). These songs seemed to be a natural fit for Mackenzie’s wistful, simple voice. But there was also an undercurrent of ache in her delivery, and soon that tone took on a plaintive quality.
The patter, seeming at times more one-woman show than true cabaret, departed from fantasy and turned to a series of harrowing stories of despair and disappointment. “If That Was Love” (Bob Merrill) followed a story of familial abuse. “World Take Me Back” (Jerry Herman) became a plea to revive her livelihood. “The Ballad of the Sad Young Men” (Tommy Wolf/Fran Landesman) painted a portrait of misfits for whom she played both mother and disciplinarian in the late 1970s.
Director Richard Sabellico smartly choose material that was both pure in emotion and uncomplicated in melodic delivery to play to Mackenzie’s strengths. He also crafted a thoughtful piece with tight pacing, that highlighted Mackenzie’s charm throughout. Yet the story dangerously drifted into over-sharing, particularly early in the program, and the long-winded patter sometimes took on a tone that suggested a therapy session.
Still, the show was enchanting, particularly when Mackenzie recounted that she had discovered pole dancing, even as a woman of a certain age. Sharing the story of her quest to find the self-assuredness that she needed to conquer such an athletic (and dangerous) endeavor seemed to bring her a genuine fortitude, and the energy in the room shifted. The last portion of the show was jam-packed with performance gems, each brought to life by this “new” Mackenzie: a sly “No Man Is Worth It” (Alan Jay Lerner/Charles Strouse), a poignant “The Chance to Sing” (Joseph Thalberg/Tom Jones), and a fantastic “Pink Taffeta Sample Size 10” (Cy Coleman/Dorothy Fields)—all excellent.
But it was the Joannie Mackenize lying on top of a grand piano and dripping with guile in “Don’t Ask the Lady What the Lady Did Before” (Coleman/Carolyn Leigh), that captured her at her ferocious best. Mackenzie is a compelling performer with an arresting appeal. She is a storyteller—sometimes strong, sometimes self-conscious. Using both fantasy and reality, she proved here that she can embody both sides of the coin, with or without a pair of six-inch pole-dancing heels.
