“I hope you don’t mind. There’s going to be a bunch of boys coming in here all night,” Alan Cumming joked as he walked into a banquet at an Upper West Side wine bar last week. The director messaged him on Instagram, hoping Cumming would star in his short film, and they agreed to meet immediately after that interview.
On that day, the 59-year-old Scottish actor filmed a TV appearance in the Meatpacking District, posed for two photo shoots and went swimming. He later watched comedian Alex Edelman’s one-man show at the Beacon Theater, and the next day he traveled to Boston to perform in his cabaret “Alan Cumming Doesn’t Act His Age.”
The show, on which he has been touring since 2021, had its New York premiere earlier this week at Studio 54. Mr. Cumming knows the place well; he reprized his role in the musical “Cabaret” in 2014, 16 years after winning his first Tony Award for the risque lead role. It combines show tunes, anecdotes and Peggy Lee standards, all in the name of exploring and demystifying aging.
“I think what I love most about my career is that from the early ’90s to the early 2000s, I bombarded people with these magical, queer characters,” he said. – I suppose I still do. They just grew up.”
The show felt like a homecoming — friends like Kristin Chenoweth, Billie Jean King, Michael Kors and Jane Krakowski were there — but Mr. Cumming has long been a city institution, perhaps best established with the opening of his namesake Club. from its namesake in East Village Cumming, almost seven years ago.
But for the dull-minded, the most eye-catching person of the night was Peppermint, a drag performer who recently competed on Peacock’s reality show “The Traitors.” The show became a hit thanks in large part to Mr. Cumming, who directs it with campy irony.
Before the cabaret’s second performance in New York on March 25, Mr. Cumming talked about the show’s origins, his career and Liza Minnelli. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
What prompted you to start developing this cabaret?
It’s really because of a show I did in 2019, “Daddy” by Jeremy O. Harris. I felt like I had to look older because I was in a show called “Daddy” and I’m the dad and obviously I’m not old enough yet. I was already a complete adult. So I grew a big daddy beard, but then I had to walk around naked in it for a long time and discovered that people reacted to a naked man my age. Everything was positive, but being objectified at that age made me think: What should I look like?
I have a lot of nostalgia, but I think that word is a hard sell. It’s seen as a negative thing, but if you learn from it and enjoy it, it’s a good thing. It’s like “ambition”. People always think of it as a sneaky bitch, but to me it means wanting to change something for good.
You looked like you caught yourself choking while singing Adele’s “When We Were Young.” Are you surprised by the sensitivity present in cabaret performances?
I’m not going to break down, but I’m going to allow myself to get to the emotions I want in the song. But I am aware that I am performing and I want to be vulnerable enough to create people [gasp].
I learned this from Liza. I actually really need it because the first time I was asked to do a show like this was when I was doing a play in Scotland and Liza came there to do a show. In her show, she told a story about when she was 16 and taking summer photos [theater]and how she wished her mother and godmother would come to see her. So Judy Garland and Kay Thompson went to this tent in Connecticut or wherever and burst into tears watching her perform, but they didn’t have a handkerchief. So Judy took out the powder puff to wipe her eyes and then handed it to Liza, who had tears in her eyes. Liza says in her program: “And I still have this powder today.” This whole place…can you imagine the gays breathing heavily and screaming that there was Judy Garland’s DNA in Liza’s apartment?
We had drinks at her hotel after the show and I asked if she really still had the powder. She said, “No, honey, nothing like that has ever happened!” It’s show business. Isn’t that great?
During the show, you say there will be a lot of name-dropping, but it’s more like you yourself are amazed to have some of these people – like Jessica Lange and Sean Connery – in your life.
I say this as a joke, because I don’t do it for effect. Most of my friends are not famous, but I am in contact with famous people all the time, which is associated with occupational risks. I didn’t come to America until I was 30. Imagine growing up with all these great cultural touchstones, and then suddenly being transported to a completely new culture: you still have that outsider’s view and that great foundation. And then, of course, when you step into something new, you really find out who you are. I think it really helped me as a person.
Do you cling to this strangeness?
Entirely. I feel like that’s what my next cabaret, Uncut, is about: being an outsider and how, ironically, when you try to be authentic, it means you’re different and weird. The idea is to be properly uncut, but also unedited and uncensored. And if you haven’t been “hacked” by plastic surgery or your bottom, you are intact and one of a kind. Stranger still, when you are actually who we all strive to be – authentic – you are the latter.
In many ways I am an outsider in America and Scotland. I don’t really know anyone who does what I do. I’ve carved out a life for myself that I love, but it’s also a little lonely.
How does Club Cumming fit into your brand?
I feel like it’s an extension of my personality, so I’m very aware of it. We were talking with [the production company] World of Wonder about the creation of a documentary series about the different personalities – employees, performers – associated with the club and how they found their tribe there.
There are so many beautiful things happening there. One of our go-go boys who has been with us from the beginning is now a go-go girl. Isn’t it wonderful? We built this little community out of something I put into the world, wanting it to evoke certain feelings that everyone would be interested in and engage with.
Do you are feeling like “The Traitors” introduced you to a new audience?
I don’t think there are many people who don’t know who I am. I just think they were kind of happy for me, you know? They’re as shocked as I am that I’m on a show like this, and they love what I bring to it.
Do you delight in what you bring to it?
Love it. I hesitated because I didn’t understand it. Then I met with [the producers] and they said they wanted me to be a character, and I understood. I didn’t hesitate because it was left field; I do weird things all the time. I’m used to strange things popping out and grabbing them. But I love “Traitors” and camping – the true definition of camp.
What is your definition of camp?
Understanding that the audience knows I’m doing something subversive and tongue-in-cheek. I think I’ve always done this. Even when I played Eli Gold on “The Good Wife,” I felt like people liked it because I was almost commenting on him when I was playing him. When people know you and know your personality – I think we call it a brand now – people say, “What’s he going to do?”
I feel this peaked with “Traitors” because I’m extremely theatrical for this form of television. But I think camp is quite complicated, playing a character with something underneath. Most people think that camp is just throwing a feather boa around your neck. Americans are often confused about camp. Look at this Met Gala [whose theme in 2019 was camp]. People didn’t know what it was.
