John Cameron Mitchell is no stranger when it comes to the transformative power of the perfect wig.
At 63, the Broadway legend is best known for his punk rock musical “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” which follows the rage-filled escapades of genderqueer glam rocker Hedwig, who pursues her ex-boyfriend – the man who stole her music and made a career out of it. Unlike the classic musical, the story unfolds in the form of performances: Hedwig explains her origins, a failed gender reassignment and her current vendetta – all in rock ‘n’ roll updos, dyed strands and physics-defying hairpieces. The musical made its Off-Broadway debut in 1998 and came to London’s West End in 2000. It was made into a film in 2001 with Mitchell as the lead actor and director. In 2014, “Hedwig” made the jump to Broadway and won the Tony Award for best revival. Although the film was considered a commercial flop upon its release, “Hedwig” has since become one of the most significant queer cult classics in the Broadway canon.
“When we first performed Hedwig, Broadway wasn’t exactly welcoming,” says Mitchell. “We knew we would never be welcome there – just as the film would probably not be considered for an Oscar because it was too queer. Too punk. But that didn’t stop us.”
Mitchell’s Broadway comeback
This year marks the 25th anniversary of the career-defining project. And what could be more fitting than the fact that Mitchell is celebrating Hedwig’s legacy by starring in a queer Broadway play that wouldn’t exist without her: the Tony Award-winning play “Oh, Mary!”
On the day we speak, Mitchell is standing backstage at Broadway’s Lyceum Theater, preparing to don a curly wig and take on the role of a drunken, lecherous and almost psychotic version of former First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln. Written by Cole Escola and starring the original cast, “Oh, Mary!” from an off-Broadway underdog to a successful Broadway long-running hit. A production opened in London’s West End last year, and a North American tour is already planned for late 2026. After Escola’s departure, various stars have donned Mary Todd’s crinolines, making the show an ever-changing experience: Jane Krakowski, Jinx Monsoon and Tituss Burgess have already taken on the role. Maya Rudolph will make her Broadway debut in it this spring. But until April 26, the stage belongs to Mitchell.
“After saying ‘Oh, Mary!’ “When I saw it, I posted about it on Instagram,” says Mitchell. “The director Sam Pinkleton sent me a DM and said, ‘We really need to do something together.’ I thought, ‘Sure, I’ll throw my wig in the ring.'”
A community of wigs
Mitchell says there is a “community” among the people who put on Mary’s wig. Monsoon, a former Mary, is a close friend. Mason Alexander Park, who opened the West End production, played Hedwig on tour. Maya Rudolph, who will take on the role after Mitchell, was once offered the role of Hedwig – she declined. But what always excites him is how the piece – just like “Hedwig” – creates his own interpretations.
“Call me old-fashioned, but I’m passionate about real, raw talent that hasn’t been enhanced by technology,” he says. “Broadway is one of those places where there’s nowhere to hide. Honey, eight shows a week is no walk in the park.”
It’s been more than ten years since you were on Broadway. Why was “Oh, Mary!” the project that brought you back?
I initially wanted to do it because I saw Jinx Monsoon in it. It was so different from Cole. A schizophrenic Mary shot out of a cannon – and I thought, “Okay, this character is flexible enough to be played in many different ways.”
It turned out wonderfully. It’s an old-fashioned style of comedy that some would associate with The Carol Burnett Show or Mel Brooks films – which I grew up with. But there is also a drag theater tradition that has been alive in New York since the ’60s: people like Charles Ludlam, Charles Busch – people who I have always admired and who inspired Hedwig. Drag theater is tailor-made for Broadway, but because of laziness and homophobia, a play like this would never have played there 20 years ago.
Mary’s overconfidence
How would you describe your tenure as Mary?
She is very different. But I’m also not afraid to borrow what works for others. I don’t see this as theft or appropriation, but as a tradition passed down. My Mary, I’ve decided, thinks she’s more genteel than she is – her speech training or finishing course was, so to speak, homemade. And she herself was the teacher, which, as we all know, can end in tears. So she has a more chosen way of over-emphasizing, over-articulating. She is a kind of self-taught cabaret singer. And if you teach yourself, it can quickly collapse. Whatever she does.
Did you draw on personal inspiration for this role?
Maybe there’s a bit of my mother in there, who was a bit angry because she lived in a man’s world. She was an artist and had to follow my father through the military stations and raise four children without support. She was a conservative woman, but that didn’t stop her from being angry that women were second-class citizens. Although she loved the Pope and voted for every conservative, she also had a sticker on her car: “A woman’s place is in the House and Senate.” So I have little campaign buttons for Mary so she can run for president.
What other similarities do you see between Mary and Hedwig?
Both are broken by men in the closet, if you will. Hedwig ends up with Tommy, who can’t deal with the fact that he’s attracted to a trans woman. And he steals her songs.
Angry women who want to be seen
Both are angry women who didn’t get what they deserved and therefore lash out at everyone else. They lash out, but both still create their own space. So they’re both angry, funny women trying to be seen. I would say Hedwig is more queer than gay. But “Oh, Mary!” is a gay play through and through.
Are you having a hard time understanding that Hedwig and the Angry Inch is now 25 years old? When did you last see the film?
I don’t remember. I’m doing a screening tour for the 25th anniversary. I don’t need to see him anymore. I do a stoned director’s commentary – I sit next to the screen with a little light on me, a vape or whatever is allowed, looking from the side of the stage with a mic that I use to control the volume. Like, “Look at my butt. That’s a 27-year-old butt. I’m 63. Always document your butt before you’re 30.” So I make observations and try not to interrupt the story too much. And then there are other productions. I was just in Pittsburgh; they are about to be produced. We hope for productions in Europe. Production on mainland China started this year. In other words, the sun never sets on Hedwig. Somewhere in the world it’s on right now.
Do you think the time it took for Hedwig to find her audience contributed to her becoming such an enduring cultural asset?
The slowness keeps it real. Because when you instill something into someone by force, you develop a different relationship with it. Hedwig was initially a flop on screen. It was also the time of DVDs. People found the film that way and told friends about it. I’ve met a lot of people who said, “I’ll show Hedwig to the people I’m dating, and if they don’t like him, we won’t be a couple.” I love being a litmus test. If something doesn’t go into mass production, if capitalism doesn’t shove it down your throat, then it stays. It sticks longer. It lasts a lifetime.
Hedwig’s queer legacy
There’s no one really like Hedwig – what do you think makes her so relatable to so many people?
She is terrible. Terrible in an entertaining way. Hedwig is a place where everyone is welcome. She’s such a weirdo that she doesn’t judge. She was forced into a certain role. Forced into her sex. I’m not so much a label person, but I understand when people want to use them to differentiate or empower themselves. Hedwig doesn’t fit into any existing label. It’s actually more of a plea for the naturalness of androgyny.
Tell me about Hedwig’s historical inspirations.
Hedwig comes from a deep queer tradition of rock ‘n’ roll, which for me began with two very specific artists who invented rock and punk as we know it: Little Richard and Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Tharpe was a lesbian, a church lady who still rocked and played guitar. And Little Richard – that humor. He was a drag queen in his youth. A black drag queen invented punk rock. I’m saying this here clearly. And David Bowie, the Stones, The Beatles – everyone who is considered the greatest rockers puts Little Richard at the top of the altar. Bowie always had his picture hanging in the dressing room.
But I consider the theater my church. I see myself as a kind of priestess – a Hedwig and a Mary: a broken one riddled with obsession. They don’t have control, but they have lessons, right? You are not God. David Bowie is God. Little Richard was a goddess.
Hedwig’s life after Mitchell
Have you ever wanted to protect Hedwig, especially after she took on a life of her own?
It’s wonderful to have this child named Hedwig who has her own life. You can look at her, be proud of her, and then every now and then think, “Ah, beautiful.” And she will live on without me. I wouldn’t stop anyone from performing the piece and I don’t control it either. Even in the script I say: Make it yours. Add your own things. Leave the essential untouched, but get involved so that it becomes yours. I don’t want it canned and preserved.
If we could book Hedwig for a show, what would be on her rider?
Gummy bears, definitely. Probably a Wiener Schnitzel to recharge your batteries. And rolls, little rolls that I always loved as a child. What else? She’s not a drug person. I think she should have a martini. Beefeater, extremely dry – so dry that you basically just whisper the word vermouth across the glass – and an olive. The most iconic female musician rider I’ve ever seen is Grace Jones. He is very detailed and precise. Six dozen unopened oysters. Grace opens it herself. And I thought, “Damn, that’s a Rider.”
Are there any ideal candidates who you think could do Hedwig justice?
There’s a trans rocker in New York named Lisa Friday who I think is amazing. She is incredible. Cynthia Erivo would be interesting, right? Jonathan Groff. We offered it to Meryl Streep, who responded with an email – very stylish. She wrote: “Oh, darling. Hedwig is Hamlet in heels but my knees can’t take it anymore.”
