When the Sex Is Gone

Dank and dirty, the Underbelly Delhi Belly is well suited to the seedier side of cabaret and in When the Sex Is Gone they have a show that’s not afraid to go down on its audience. Tommy Bradson plays Charlie Martini, a hermaphrodite of “two score and five” who has filled as many holes, (s)he says, as her narcotic namesake.

The shock factor comes, ahem, not in the bodily fluids dripping from the script, but the flash of danger in Bradson’s performance. His skill lies in the segue, his voice ranging from sweet to shriek, his persona from victim to bully. And two thirds through, a costume change heralds a whole new set of balls. The show’s songs aren’t as strong as they should be and its tone at times confused.

“Not your usual bedroom story,” Bradson spits at one point, “but you play the cards you’re dealt.” And the tickets you buy. This one is worth the flutter though.