Is RuPaul’s Drag Race mainstream? I had always assumed it was, because I like it, and I am an Incredibly Mainstream Man (I know most of Hamilton from memory and I won’t eat a brand of crisps I haven’t seen advertised on TV).
But last week, as I was trying to explain the most recent episode of the Drag Race All Stars spin-off – specifically the part where BenDeLaCreme performed as Maria from the Sound of Music to the RuPaul track Call Me Mother – to a group of people who had never seen the show before, it occurred to me that I might be wrong. I got about halfway through the line “Body like wow, pussy ’bout to end this drought” in my best Julie Andrews voice, before reading the vibe of the room. As the waiter subtly cut me off from receiving any more coffee, I was left thinking it was everyone else’s loss: now in its 10th season, RuPaul’s Drag Race is the best thing on TV.
I’m a straight cis man, and RuPaul’s Drag Race offers an insight into a world I know very little about – for me, the show is part entertainment and part education about an artform previously intended almost exclusively for the queer community. Watching Drag Race is a bit like watching Alpine skiing at the Winter Olympics – at the start I don’t know how any of it works, but by the end I feel qualified to make (completely uninformed) criticisms: “She has to stop relying on that body. Michelle has already told her she’s resting on pretty – cut it out with the corset silhouette!”
Drag Race occupies a weird place in the zeitgeist – ostensibly countercultural, yet fast becoming one of the most celebrity-laden TV shows on the planet. This year’s All Stars show has already featured High School Musical superstar Vanessa Hudgens (at one point performing in a lip sync battle against a pork chop), while last season’s premiere starred Lady Gaga. It’s a paradox reflected in the show itself, which is simultaneously the epitome of competitive reality TV and a pitch-perfect parody of it – RuPaul effectively does a Tyra Banks send-up every episode, with the over-the-top dramatic judgments and brilliantly terrible puns (“Impersonating Beyoncé is not your destiny, child”). The result is strangely addictive. I have binge-watched almost every episode (save for the mythical “lost” first season), and it’s oddly disarming how you can find yourself invested in the stupidest challenges, be it attempting a Hello Kitty runway look to faking an orgasm in a Spanish telenovela.
For more read the full of article at The Guardian
