Where New York

For her first one-woman show, Without You I’m Nothing, Sandra Bernhard took cabaret and stand-up-comedy forms, mixed them up and produced something totally different. Twenty-some years later, her shows— incredibly smart, incredibly hilarious, incredibly acerbic rants on everything from politics to celebrity culture coupled with a throbbing rock ’n’ roll—still feel completely fresh. Forever to be associated with the small clubs of downtown (even though her I’m Still Here … Damn It! made it to Broadway in 1998 and scored big), Bernhard is back almost-below 14th Street, this time in a proper Off-Broadway theatre. Where New York chatted with Bernhard about her inspirations, her irritations and, most importantly, her current production, Everything Bad and Beautiful.
— Bill Corsello

The format of your shows is so unique. How did you come up with it?

I wanted to be a musical-comedy star, but by the time I grew up, musical comedy wasn’t what it was when I was a kid. But, I still liked the format—something slightly bigger than life and over the top. So, I created my own mini-musicals, starring me.

Your fans see you as a fashion icon. So why no dishing about supermodels in your current show?

Unfortunately, there are no more supermodels. The fashion business has been watered down with the advent of the Style Network and all of the accessibility to what mid-America thinks is fashion. It’s lost its allure for me. I covered the fashion thing 10, 15 years ago, and I was fascinated by it. I knew a lot of the designers and walked the runways in Paris and New York. It was a much more vibrant time, fashion-wise. It just doesn’t have the glamour that it had.

Do the celebrities that you rag on get mad at you?

I don’t really feel like it’s about ragging on a celebrity, per se; it’s about celebrity. It’s about our culture’s obsession with fame and people’s desire to be famous. With reality television and The Bachelorette and American Idol, people don’t want to do the work it takes to become an artist and a performer, but they want that fame. Obviously, there are certain performers whom I find campy or weird. It’s fun to use that person as an example, but it’s not about tearing somebody apart. I always make it into something much bigger … and add levels of hilarity and circus atmosphere.

Besides being entertained, what do you hope audiences take away from your show?

Overall, it’s about, “Are you comfortable in your skin? Are you somebody who can walk down the street and not look at someone who says, ‘Ah, you’re different,’ and feel threatened?” I think that’s where hatred and prejudice generate. I like to think I’m the spokesperson for the free-spirited people of the world.