On the Scene: Rufus Wainwright at the Hollywood Bowl

When Judy Garland performed her legendary concert at the Hollywood Bowl in 1961 to a crowd of 18,000 people, the sky was dark with pouring rain. Fortunately, for the fans who packed the Hollywood Bowl last Friday for Rufus Wainwright's epic recreation of that show, there was nary a cloud in sight. Instead, under a beautifully clear sky lit up by the Bowl's iconic spotlights, Wainwright induced chills of his own as he sang and danced through 31 songs over two acts and an encore.

The show echoed the spirit of Garland's original performance, with Wainwright bouncing between two personae: The Bubbly Playboy and The Reincarnation of Judy. For starters, I don't imagine Garland made mischievous eyes when singing the lyric, "Don’t weep and moan because he’s blown," during the evening's second song, "When You’re Smiling." This show was the fourth and final of Wainwright's  Garland tributes — which he's already performed in New York City, London, and Paris.

Wainwright spared no energy in replicating even the tiniest details of the original show — from the copy-cat publicity posters reading "Rufus Wainwright: World’s Greatest Performer" to the exact moments in the set when Garland paused to speak. He even walked off the stage to kiss Debbie Reynolds, as Garland once walked down to kiss Rock Hudson.

As a performer, Wainwright did not disappoint. Taking the stage, he was costumed in a blue velvet jacket, white pants and an oversize flower brooch, later removing the jacket to reveal a white Tom Ford dress shirt with billowing frills running up the front. "This (shirt) is bordering on the ridiculous, but so was Judy — that’s why we love her," Wainwright explained. His over-the-top dance moves — my favorite being a jaunty shoulder shake with hands on the hips — might not land him on Broadway any time soon, but seemed to help him channel his inner Judy. His voice occasionally faltered (especially when hitting the high notes) but his fans were more than forgiving, understanding the rigorous vocal theatrics necessary to pull off these tunes.

Wainwright's between-songs storytelling, however, was faultless. His first tale, about narrowly avoiding death in the pool at Chateau Marmont thanks to Eight is Enough's Betty Buckley, was hilarious. During the two instances where his mother, musician Kate McGarrigle, joined him on stage, their caustic yet loving banter made it feel like we were eavesdropping at a Thanksgiving dinner. When McGarrigle proudly proclaimed her greatest onstage accomplishment was walking to the piano in her high heels, Rufus snidely countered, "That depends on what you call a stage, Mother." On the second-to-last song of the evening, "Every Time We Say Goodbye," her piano accompaniment was interrupted by Rufus complaining: "Can we do it again? It's a little low. I want to challenge myself."

To make it even more of a family affair, Wainwright's sister, newlywed Martha Wainwright, sang two songs  — her mesmerizing rendition of "Stormy Weather," highlighting her haunting voice. Toward the end of the night, he was visited by royalty: Garland's daughter Lorna Luft. Clad in the most intensely bubble-gum pink dress I've ever seen, Luft belted out "Carolina In The Morning" and "After You’ve Gone" with extraordinary dramatics (aided by said gown). Luft's dramatic costume choice was upstaged, however, byWainwright's encore attire: a mid-thigh dress suit, black hat, black tights, high heels, and sparkling earrings  — which mimicked Garland’s iconic outfit from 1950's  Summer Stock. After performing "Get Happy," Rufus handed the stage over to Luft, returning in an outfit that was all Rufus: a zebra-print bath robe.

Let it be said that the orchestra, ably conducted by Stephen Oremus, never missed a beat. Likewise, the audience seemed to genuinely energize the performers. Many in attendance were Garland fans reliving days gone by — a few were at her original Bowl show, making themselves known when prompted by Wainwright. (These older fans also know something about comfort, as evidenced by a long line at the seat-cushion rental.) Just as appreciative were the younger fans of Garland and the openly gay Rufus — who dedicated "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" to those members of the 1961 audience who were gay in those less-tolerant times. This crowd knew how to have fun; the smell of wine and whiskey was in the air, as were flying champagne corks. And somewhere in the middle of it all was 21-year-old me with my notebook, soaking it all in.