In a 2010 interview with Lady Gaga, US journalist Anderson Cooper probed the singer about “that rumour” that she had a “male appendage”. “Maybe I do,” she replied. “Would it be so terrible? Why the hell am I gonna waste my time and give a press release about whether or not I have a penis?”
Would it be so terrible? Blake Edwards asks in his 1982 musical comedy Victor/Victoria, based on a 1933 German film of the same name. In Edwards’ musical remake, his wife, British prima donna Dame Julie Andrews, stars as Victoria Grant, a starving soprano forced into a life of cross-dressing to survive in 1930s Paris.
Destitute and unfed, after yet another failed audition and a near eviction, Victoria takes herself out to dinner. Her pockets are empty, all but for a cockroach that she plans to set free in her salad (in the hopes this will also make her meal free). Over her complimentary dinner, Victoria befriends Liberace lookalike Carroll Todd (Robert Preston), a raging homosexual and freshly unemployed showman. After taking her in, Toddy devises a plan to make Victoria into a big star. His plan is simple: she must drop the last two letters of her name and perform as a female impersonator.
“People believe what they see,” Toddy reassures the reluctant Victoria. What could be more convincing than a man impersonating a woman? A woman impersonating herself! With the help of her new gay best friend, Victoria becomes Count Victor Grazinski, an effeminate man with a glass-shattering voice that defies reason.
Victoria slicks back her short hair, dons a men’s suit and changes her register “just low enough to be a touch masculine”. After her debut performance as Victor with Le Jazz Hot!, the most enduring musical number from the film, Victoria executes what can only be described as a reverse wig reveal, in which she announces herself as a man impersonating a woman.
“It’s a guy!” cries Victoria’s rival Norma Cassidy, relieved to discover that the performer who has captured the attention of her gangster boyfriend, King Marchand (James Garner), is no longer a threat. Like many men before him, King is horrified by the gender-reveal magic trick Victoria has performed before his eyes.
Victor/Victoria quickly reveals itself as a story about masculinity in crisis, not only for Victoria as a woman who is challenged to live as a man if she wants to succeed, but also for King who cannot escape his seemingly homosexual attraction. Hiding in a closet in Victoria’s hotel room, he watches her undress, but fails to confirm his suspicion that Victor is a woman hiding in plain sight.
The film shows its heart with the friendship between Victoria and Toddy, partners in crime pretending to be life partners. While at times unbearably schmaltzy – particularly during their performance of the song You and Me – their friendship speaks to the enduring mutual affection between gay men and their female friends.
To the surprise of no one, it is a gay man that forces the hand toward the facsimile of womanhood; behind every diva is a gay man with an opinion. But Victor/Victoria treats this friendship with less cynicism, instead reminding us that the art of cross-dressing – usually imagined as a shameful act, done in the dark – is always an act of collaboration. Every crossdresser needs an ally, to dress them up, to hold their hand, to make them feel beautiful.
Do clothes make the man? Over four decades after its release, Edwards’ film is still in dialogue with contemporary culture and its present concerns. Much like its peers Tootsie (1982), Yentl (1983), and Mrs. Doubtfire (1993), Victor/Victoria lacks the sophisticated nomenclature of today, largely unable to articulate its own ideas about gender and sexuality. Nevertheless, the film is a complex tale of impersonation and illusion, attraction and confusion, a puzzling provocation masquerading as a syrupy slapstick musical comedy.
Victor/Victoria is available to stream on Binge in Australia, and on Apple TV+ in the UK and US. For more recommendations of what to stream in Australia, click here
