Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Yale Summer Cabaret: Spectra
217 Park St.
New Haven
July 23-25, July 30-Aug. 1, 2026
When I entered Yale Cabaret Thursday evening to take in a new staging of the cult classic Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I received a peculiar warning: “There will be flashing lights and gender dysmorphia.”
What they didn’t warn me about was the intoxicating euphoria that would overtake me upon seeing Hedwig (Gavin D. Pak) twirl out into the audience in a frenzy of pink iridescent sequins.
That heady feeling continued throughout the production.
If you have the misfortune of being unfamiliar with the story, Hedwig is the genderqueer lead singer of a band from East Berlin that has never quite taken off. Even worse, her ex-lover Tommy Gnosis is a veritable rock star who siphoned Hedwig’s creative genius without crediting her. Gnosis rejected Hedwig because of her gender, a betrayal that Hedwig works through in her music.
Hedwig also had another problem: A simmering rivalry with her husband Yitzhak. The band once had a performance in which Yitzhak wore a wig and eclipsed Hedwig. She told him she’ll marry him on the condition that a wig never touches his head. In one scene, Hedwig is speaking when Yitzhak interrupts her with a pointed “Bitch.”
“Yes, did someone call my name?” said Hedwig passive aggressively.
At the Yale Cabaret, Hedwig (played by Gavin D. Pak) was clad in red fishnets, shiny red go-go boots, a tiny jean miniskirt with a Yale crop top and jean vest. Her blush popped and her glittery blue shadowed eyes were beacons as she practically snarled “Tear Me Down” alongside her husband Yitzhak (Sboniso Thombeni).
Don’t you know me?/I’m the new Berlin wall, baby/Try and tear me down!
She gave it to the audience immediately, draping herself suggestively across an audience member’s lap as she sang under the illicit red lights. Next, she walked over to another audience member to introduce herself. When people walked in after start time, Hedwig addressed them: “You guys are so late.”
The intimate space of the Yale Cabaret leant itself to the broken fourth-wall nature of the show. It really felt like Hedwig and the Angry Inch were an up-and-coming band that popped into New Haven to perform at café nine. Hedwig and Yitzhak’s constant forays into the aisles really drew the audience into their performance.
At the start of the show, Hedwig marveled at the band making it to Yale. “Look at us! Ivy League! Immigrants can do fucking anything.”
The musical’s altered script name dropped so many New Haven staples: Arethusa, Yale Daily News, Toad’s Place, Claire’s Cornucopia, East Rock Market. My favorite was Hedwig’s reference to the Yale Repertory Theatre’s production of Julia Masli’s ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. The audience hooted when Hedwig trilled, “Problem?”
This production of Hedwig was put on by Yale Summer Cabaret: Spectra. Spectra, the name of the Cabaret’s summer season, refers to the wide spectrum that is art as well as disability. The season’s tagline is “where art and access intertwine.” The Cabaret team made it a mission to provide more accessibility to their shows. To that end, screens above the stage displayed open captions, even for the speeches that the creative team gave. There will be American Sign Language (ASL) interpreters the second week of the performance.
The Cabaret’s theme was fitting, as Hedwig and the Angry Inch is about self-acceptance, love and embracing difference.
I loved Pak and Thombeni’s chemistry and the way they moved on stage. Their flamboyant dancing and stellar singing solidified me as a fan. But it was even down to their micro movements — from the arch of Pak’s eyebrow to the way Thombeni gripped the mic stand just so, they embodied Hedwig and Yitzhak. Their commitment to their performances was evident in the sweat-soaked locks plastered to Pak’s forehead and the makeup beard smudged on Thombeni’s face.
“This role has always meant a ton to me. I first heard of the show with the Broadway revival, my first year in college. I was away from home and really discovering more about who I am, and my own relationship with gender and sexuality,” Pak told me in a conversation after the show. “Hedwig is such as beautiful show about this woman who had this horrible thing happen to her, lives with the cards she was dealt and goes on a journey of finding self-acceptance and self-love.”
There was profound sadness in Hedwig’s story but also humor. As she said, “I laugh because I will cry if I don’t.”
Some of that humor came through in the distinctly striking language. Hedwig speaks of a nail polish called “Dusty Menses” and of crying “muddy Maybelline tears.”
It also came through in the plethora of weird, enigmatic scenes – which I loved. In one, Hedwig offers to shave Tommy’s eyebrows to offer him comfort after his father upsets him. In another, she reenacts a flashback of her childhood spent laying her head in the oven to develop her singing chops. Don’t get me started on the gummi bärchen/gummy bear scene with her sugar daddy.
The images projected onto the stage’s red glittered backdrop enhanced Hedwig’s stories and were inventive; some I couldn’t even figure out how to describe. The drawings were these cool cutouts (I later learned they were made of felt) and depicted images such as a burning American flag and the Roman goddess Venus with a penis.
All of the musical’s songs were head boppers. I truly wanted to headbang for “Angry Inch,” during which the room took on a darker hue of red, as lights flashed along with the dark, driving rhythm. “Exquisite Corpse” was another standout performance.
And you can trace the lines/Through misery’s designs/That map across my body/A collage!/All sewn up/A montage!/All sewn up
During that scene, Hedwig snatched off her wig and stripped down to her underwear.
From my vantage point, there was a shadow that obscured Hedwig’s face during the number “Wicked Little Town,” making for an almost mystical performance as she softly sang: You’re running up and down that hill/You turn it on and off at will/There’s nothing here to thrill or bring you down/And if you’ve got no other choice/You know you can follow my voice/Through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town.
Earlier in the show, Yitzhak had called Hedwig the c word and left the venue. As the show closed, he returned to Hedwig, who was holding a fabulous Beyonce-style wig as a peace offering. She placed it on Yitzhak’s head, and he transformed.
He went backstage, then strutted back out in a dusty pink dress made of rosebuds and glittery pink eyeshadow – the audience cheered. Hedwig and the Angry Inch sang “Midnight Radio”: You know you’re doing all right/So hold on to each other/You gotta hold on tonight.
As the song urged us to life up our hands, the room became a sea of waving arms.
The crowd was slow to file out when the show ended, lingering to chat amongst themselves and with the creative team and cast. No one was quite ready to leave Hedwig’s glittering, unruly world behind.
Hedwig superfan Angela Meikle was eager to speak with Pak after the show. She said, “Gavin took the character of Hedwig, in all her messy glory, and made it their own. I had literal tears in my eyes when they sang ‘Wicked Little Town’ and ‘Midnight Radio.’ I highly recommend this show to anyone who hasn’t seen Hedwig performed on stage.”
