Christine Jorgensen Reveals: A Hymn to Her

George Jorgensen, Jr. had no intention of becoming one of the most famous people in America when he flew to Denmark to have a sex change operation. He certainly wasn't the first to undergo the procedure. All he wanted was the opportunity to feel more comfortable with himself. But after the December 1, 1952 front page of The New York Daily News screamed out, "Ex-GI Becomes Blond Beauty: Operations Transform Bronx Youth", the new woman unexpectedly found over 300 reporters waiting for her at the airport upon her arrival back to New York.

At that moment she had another life-changing choice to make. She could have kept her mouth shut until her name was forgotten and attempted to live out her life as privately and uneventfully as possible, or she could speak openly and do her best to address the controversy and questions surrounding her actions. She chose to go public, first as a nightclub entertainer and then a college lecturer. And although she was a target of hatred by those who found her choice perverted and immoral, she also was praised as an inspiration by those who secretly struggled with the "differentness" of their own sexuality.

In 1958, the young comic Nipsey Russell interviewed her for an LP recording released as Christine Jorgensen Reveals, which serves as the soundtrack for a unique and well-executed performance piece by the same name.

Bradford Louryk, who conceived the piece, spends the scantly hour-long show sitting in a chair (in a chic green taffeta outfit designed by Mary Ping and stylish wig by Jason P. Hayes) lip-syncing Ms. Jorgensen's half of the album while a video tape of Rob Grace lip-syncing Mr. Russell's part appears across from her on a period black and white television set. (very effective video design by Kevin Frech) I know... it sounds like an awful idea for a theatre piece, but the combination of this unusual, nearly 50-year-old artifact documenting social attitudes and the interesting layer director Josh Hecht puts on the material through two excellent performances make this an extremely satisfying evening.

Jorgensen is very articulate and quietly mannered on the recording; seeming to have some of her answers very well rehearsed, as contrasted with Russell, who seems more gregarious and off-the-cuff. His questions are generally serious and despite some mild joking there's the sense that he's trying to make the recording as informative as possible to a listening audience that includes those who couldn't begin to understand why a man (an ex-GI!) would do such a thing. But many of his questions seem comically insensitive to a modern ear. Inquiries about how women react when she enters a ladies room and what was done with the male genitalia that was removed during the operation ("Since this was such a famous thing I thought it might be preserved.") might seem childish today, but fifty years ago, when the average American knew nothing of transsexuality, they could, in the proper spirit, be considered perfectly appropriate.

But there's only so much we can tell about what happened in that studio by just hearing the recording. The added layer, which makes the stage presentation so interesting, is the visual interpretation of the record. Louryk gives Jorgensen the poise and sophistication of a 1950's film star; graceful, intelligent and tastefully groomed. Grace, on video, is only seen as a talking head. His facial delivery of Russell's voice is aggressive, animated and rather creepy, representing a less than admirable side of the media out to titillate the public in the guise of providing information. Perhaps it's in fairness to the actual Nipsey Russell that the interviewer is never identified as the popular entertainer; only as Mr. Russell. The actor playing him is of a different race and does not try to impersonate Nipsey Russell's mannerisms. What he does do is a lot of leering and sophomoric winking to the unseen studio crew, in between moments of putting on a "serious journalist" attitude.

The conflict of Jorgensen trying to keep the proceedings dignified while Russell strives for info-entertainment is the creative fuel behind the production. Jorgensen opens the interview by introducing serious findings about human sexuality and then, unseen by the listeners, rolls her eyes in frustration when Russell practically salivates when asking if she would be the least bit attracted by the sight of "a real Marilyn Monroe type." When Jorgensen talks sincerely of the reasons she feels that adopting a child would not be a wise choice for her, Russell's look of compassion is dripping with bad theatrics. It's assumed the interview was recorded in one take, and the imagined battle of wits between the two characters to control how the story of Christine Jorgensen would be told -- all going on while they're trying to sound civil and polite -- is a brilliant embellishment to an already fascinating soundtrack.

Christine Jorgensen Reveals plays a Thursday, Friday and Saturday evening run through January 28th at Dodger Stages.

Photo of Bradford Louryk and Rob Grace by Aaron Epstein

 

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