Theater: Phantasmic Voyage

Arias with a Twist, which marks the long-awaited return of the legendary Joey Arias to the theatrical, club and performance art scenes of New York, is a phantasmagorical and perverted loop-the-loop. From Arias, frankly, I’d expect nothing less. After spending the last six years as the emcee of Cirque du Soleil’s Zumanity in Las Vegas, it would have been a capital-E event in certain quarters if Arias had materialized on the stage of the Dorothy B. Williams Theater (at the superbly refurbished HERE) and simply sung a couple of songs in that screechy, bronchial, occasionally fluty voice of his. We’d be reassured that his voice is as creepily redolent of Billie Holiday as ever, a talent for which Arias is appropriately renowned.

Come to think of it, had Arias done that, a collective cultural orgasm might have ensued. Quietly, we might have remarked to ourselves how this profoundly original artist, who first arrived on the New York scene in the 1970s expressly determined to become a chanteuse, pioneered performance art. But more than that, we’d once again realize Arias did more than that. Unwittingly, he forged a third way in the universe of gender bending, being neither one of the reigning monarchs of drag queendom nor quite among the ranks of female impersonators. Those who remember Arias’ lunatic-fringe years at Bar D’O—or delighted in his thespian charms in the 2001 off-Broadway send-up Christmas with the Crawfords (playing Joan, of course)—might study Arias’ face, rubbery and unblemished as an infant’s behind. We might ask ourselves: How old is he? Then we’d understand why that’s a fundamentally irrelevant question, like asking for the specific year the cave paintings of Lascaux were first created. What’s important, baby, is the art.

And a funny thing happened to Arias, apparently, on his way back to the dripping palette that is New York theater. Rather than resurrect his tightly corseted, long-pigtailed, cosmetically over-applied self as we fondly remember all of it, he has collaborated with Basil Twist, arguably one of Arias’ few equals in terms of pure maverick creativity. With Arias with a Twist, in fact, there can no longer be any question that Twist is far and away the greatest creator of performing objects—puppets—working today. On a platform the size of a tiny studio apartment, the result is a glittering and abundantly trippy circus of amorphous delirium.

In just 65 minutes, the piece manages to be a pansexual fantasia, a cheesy divertissement, a fashion show (costumes by Thierry Mugler), a parody of alien-abduction theories and a cabaret tonic with both original songs (by Andrew Gifford of The Propellerheads) and multiple covers (including a heartbreaking take on Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself”).

Amid video projections by Daniel Brodie, Arias flits from scene to scene; and while the narrative might be looser than Lindsay Lohan at a tailgate party, Twist continually astonishes by the inexhaustible ways he augments each moment with something sublime: multiple aliens hovering as Arias revolves, strapped on a table, ready to be probed; a jungle scene with blooming flowers and a snake that weaves through vines in defiance of gravity; a pair of gigantic feet in glistening white hosiery plunged into colossal heels; a series of movable skylines that Arias stomps through as if this show was really Queen Kong.

Complicated as the various settings are, the work concludes with Arias on an empty stage, save for a quartet of eerily lifelike puppet musicians. Up until now, objects have floated, soared and confused, as if psychotropic drugs were suddenly and gloriously legal, but now one can surrender to the simplicity, to the thrall of Arias’ still-glorious voice. That is, perhaps, the finest twist of all.

Through Aug. 31. HERE Arts Center, 145 6th Ave. (near Spring St.) 212-352-3101; $35-$50.