‘Shucked’ Actor Kevin Cahoon on Starring in Pasadena’s ‘La Cage aux Folles’ Revival: ‘It’s 2024, and We’re Still Talking About People Shutting Down Drag Clubs’

When Kevin Cahoon got his Tony and Drama Desk nominations in 2023 as a featured actor in Broadway’s “Shucked,” he played a hayseed character whose sexuality might or might not have been known to everyone in his straight-laced, corn-fed community. But in “La Cage aux Folles,” now playing at the Pasadena Playhouse, taking on the lead role of the drag performer Albin, he quite defiantly is who he is — at least until the farcical second act has him comically pretending to be a straight man, then a straight woman, in an attempted act of familial love. High jinx ensue, as they say… but so do pathos and anger, when Cahoon gets to deliver the gay anthem “I Am What I Am.”

In a wide-ranging career that has hardly been limited to these roles, Cahoon has acted in drag on stage (and on TV) a few times before, with his turns in Broadway or off-Broadway productions of “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” “The Rocky Horror Show” and “The Wedding Singer” as well as television’s “Glow.” But he’s never before stepped into a lead role with quite as much historic weight for the LGBTQ+ community as “La Cage,” the Jerry Herman/Harvey Fierstein-written show that was the first musical to focus on gay lead characters when it opened in 1983. The Pasadena production is notable as one of the few times a major revival has been put up with two well-known gay actors being cast, as Cahoon shares the raucous show’s more tenderly romantic scenes with Cheyenne Jackson.

The plot, which has a right-wing politician wanting to shut down the main characters’ successful drag revue, might have seemed quaint or even outdated a few years ago… but, obviously, with the renewed demonization of trans people and drag artists, “La Cage” has fallen back out of the realm of period piece. In an interview with Variety, Cahoon talks about how the current climate has provided “fuel” for the interpretation he, director Sam Pinkleton (“Oh, Mary!”) and the other creatives came up with for this update… even as the Broadway-worthy revival works primarily to provide warm laughs for the entire family. Or the entire drag-friendly family, anyway.

Cahoon also discusses everything from his very first show-biz triumph — winning “Star Search” as a young teen — to how Peanut, the character he played in “Shucked,” was inspired by both Minnie Pearl and shamen. (“La Cage aux Folles” continues at the Pasadena Playhouse through Dec. 15; get more information and tickets here.)

Most recently, people have known you for “Shucked,” where you were very dressed down. But there are other things in your career that it’s easy to imagine might have brought you to mind for the lead in “La Cage.”

That’s right. I was in the original company of “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” where I (took over) once a week for John Cameron Mitchell. I did “Rocky Horror” on Broadway (as Frank N. Furter). And in “The Wedding Singer” on Broadway, my character was obsessed with Boy George. So there’s a long history of roles that have been in drag. But I had gone through a two- or three-year period where I felt like, “Oh, I’m into my country bumpkin stage.” I had done an hour-long drama on Fox called “Monarch,” which was about the first family of country music, and then “Shucked” was such a giant moment in my life. I thought, well, maybe my drag queen days are behind me.

And then Sam Pinkleton called me out of the blue and invited me to come along and I really did not hesitate one minute. It has been liberating and fulfilling, and I’m completely in love with Cheyenne, the entire company is wonderful, and the Pasadena Playhouse is such a top-notch, incredible theater. Just with the care and the thought that they put into every single thing — I’m even talking about a prop, or a costume piece — the heart is just leading the way there, and it’s apparent.

Have you been out here to L.A. to do theater much before?

I did a production of “Minsky’s” at the Ahmanson (in 2009). I did this awesome production of “The Tempest” with the LA Philharmonic at the Disney Concert Hall (in 2018). And I’ve done stuff at the Old Globe in San Diego, and in San Francisco, but never Pasadena Playhouse. And listen, I’ll be back the minute they ask me.

You’ve taken over some lead roles in the past, but not necessarily very many with as long a history as this. What’s it like to take on this lead role in “La Cage,” which is a very iconic and important part in a lot of people’s memories, for so many reasons?

I had been offered the role of Jacob the housekeeper before in productions of “La Cage,” but never had I been considered for the role of Albin before. And it was a wonderful feeling that someone trusts that you can be a co-pilot, along with Cheyenne, of this. You said it — it’s an iconic piece; giant hit all around the world since the ‘80s. And Sam had a vision to blow the dust off, so to speak, and it was thrilling. He had a different vision for “I Am What I Am” than what I had ever seen done before. And of course, that’s like a cliff. You have to jump off and take a leap of faith, and explore what it means to you today.

That signature number in particular has what feels like a topical undertone to it.

I have to say that after the last election, there was a different fuel in the tank than there was. We were rehearsing before the election, and then after the election, we were still in rehearsals, but I have to say the dynamics and the energy shifted. There was a high-octane fuel, shall we say. You can’t ignore what’s going on in the world around you when there’s 700 people coming into a theater every night to have a shared experience. If there’s something happening to everyone as a collective, that is a part of the recipe of the evening, and you can’t ignore it. So we had an idea to do a sort of CBGB version of “I Am What I Am,” if you will. There’s a real sort of rock and roll heart underneath it, and it is extremely empowering and extremely liberating.

I hope it helps to tell the story of these two people who’ve been in love for 20 years and have a son, and the obstacles that that relationship is facing in the face of misunderstanding and bigotry. You know, it’s a great big American musical for a reason. We all know, at least I do, that America works best when we’re all working together and everyone has their freedom, And when there are people who are trying to infringe upon that freedom, the wheels do not work as well in a democracy. So that’s what great American musicals do to me. They expose the truth and the beauty and the optimism that a great musical can. It’s the most optimistic art form to me. Take “Les Miz.” Everyone’s dead at the end of “Les Miz,” but they’re all singing “Tomorrow’s gonna be better, tomorrow’s gonna be a better day”! That’s why I love musicals so much. And at the end of “La Cage,” the conservative family has come around and everyone’s together… everyone as as a unit.

I was wondering if it would be done as an ‘80s period piece or set in the present day. But it feels like it’s meant to exist out of time. The only element that really marks it as present-day is the use of a ring light when you are doing your makeup in the dressing room scenes.

That’s right. Yes.

So we imagine times have changed since the late ‘70s, when the French film was made, or early ‘80s, with the Broadway show. But little or nothing needed to changed to make it feel either contemporary or just unfixed in time. If anything, the political aspect feels fresh again.

In the early ‘80s, when this show opened on Broadway, there had been one front-page story about the AIDS epidemic in the New York Times. They started writing this in 1978. And there’s still an innocence to this love story, in the writing. It’s before AIDS decimated a culture, when work at that point shifted to be political, as it should have. But there’s something interesting in that they’re still trying to ban drag clubs in Florida. There’s still an uproar over drag story time in schools. The legislation is still being proposed, and it really is shocking and sad. But you know, isn’t that funny, that it’s 2024, almost ‘25, and we’re still talking about conservative people trying to shut down a drag club.

In the gamut that your character runs in the show, a lot of the prevalent comedy is really on your shoulders, even though, as we discussed, you also have the most dead-serious moment in the show.

It’s a ride, and I’m sort of on the train. I have, I think, 14 costume changes, which include jewelry and wigs and makeup changes, and I am running like a hamster on a wheel backstage. So I really don’t have time to think about, you know, “Oh God, now we’re about to get to this part…” Before I know it, I’m on stage in another wig and another dress, saying the lines for that scene. So it really is a wash of whatever Harvey Fierstein’s writing is, really happening in the moment — which, as an actor, is what you want. And every audience is different, so you’re listening to them. Where are they? It really is like an Olympic relay race, where you’re running from one thing to the next and grabbing this, and then you’re going down the track. Every morning when I wake up, I think: Oh my God, I can’t believe I did that last night and I have to do it again tonight.

It’s thrilling. I cannot believe we only have two more weeks. I’m gonna just be heartbroken, and running around my house, doing it by myself, probably. I’ll call Cheyenne on the phone and say, “Hey, let’s just do that scene over the phone.”

Fortunately, this is not your first time working in high heels on stage. That could be really taxing on someone who doesn’t have experience with that.

I have quite a bit of experience in heels — and I’ve got good arches, just genetic, God-given arches, and so that helps too. It was just sort of the luck of the draw, and they’ve helped me in the end.

And from Hedwig to Frank N. Furter to “Glow,” you’ve had a little experience dressing up, even if those didn’t prepare you for the variety of looks you run through in this.

That is very true. I’ve had a life in makeup, I like to say. … Carol Channing was one of my characters in “Glow” that I also do in “La Cage.” Sam was like, “What imitations do you do?” And I was like, “Well, I think I can do a pretty good Carol Channing,” so that’s in the show (within a show), too.

When the show is going off-stage, so to speak, for its more emotional and intimate moments, the chemistry with Cheyenne is obviously vital.

And it’s rare that two gay actors get to play two gay men who have been in this relationship for 20 years. That’s different than playing a relationship that you’ve been in for two years. There’s a knowledge there; there’s comfort there. In my first scene in the show, I am terrified that he’s having an affair on me. “Where were you? I made a lunch. I know that you’re with some young, bony, brunette boy”… I think with every single relationship, at some point, someone in that relationship is doubting: Am I enough? Do I still have it? Is this person still seeing me the same way? There’s another lyric that my character has, about how “you’ve put a permanent star in my eye.” That is such a gorgeous Jerry Herman lyric, so beautiful and so simple.

Jerry Herman wrote “Hello Dolly,” and he wrote “Mame,” which are those iconic roles for actresses. And then he wrote “La Cage,” where the two gay men get to have the iconic roles. They get the 11:00 numbers; they get the showstoppers. And that’s rare. When I was a kid, I loved “Hello Dolly” and “Mame,” and I did my first Jerry Herman musical when I was 11, so that’s when I fell in love with Jerry Herman soundtracks and albums and cast recordings… So these things that come into your life when you’re 10 come back around later. Every seed that’s planted is gonna come back around.

To get into your background a little — you did “Star Search” when you were almost that young, right?

Yeah, I was 13, in 1985. I’m from Houston, so I had an agent in Houston and I did commercials and theater there, and then they said “Star Search” is coming through town and they’re auditioning. At that point, that was Sam Harris, Rosie O’Donnell, Sinbad — the show was a giant. I sang show tunes, and somehow we ended up in L.A. and I was on that show and won in 1985. Which is crazy, because everyone was singing Van Halen and Michael Jackson and the hits of the day, and here I come singing “Gypsy” and “Cats,” but somehow it happened. We shot it at the Aquarius Theater on Sunset, which became the Nickelodeon theater. Actually, from the street, you can still see the payphone in the lobby — it’s still there in that theater — where I would make my calls to my grandparents and say, “Oh, I won, I won.” There are lot of sweet memories there. I still can’t believe that it happened. And then we did a show that summer called “The Stars of Star Search,” which was kind of a revue with Sinbad, myself, this singer Catte Adams… And then I went back to Houston and started high school.

What was your biggest break once you were in New York?

I always think the first Broadway show’s the hardest one to get, and I was in the ensemble of “Tommy,” after auditioning eight times and going over and over. And then your first principal role in a Broadway show is also the hardest one to get, and my first principal role was in the original cast of “The Lion King,” playing Ed the Hyena. That was such a cultural moment, and to watch Julie Taymor in the room creating this world with these characters and these costumes and masks, it was unbelievable — another pinch-me moment when I think about how I was a part of that.

And then I left “The Lion King” that same year to go downtown to do one show a week for John Cameron Mitchell as (the understudy for) “Hedwig,” which at that point was not what it is now; it was still trying to find its way. And John’s writing and Stephen (Trask)’s writing were so prophetic. They really saw the world in a way that other people didn’t, and saw what was going to be a part of the culture. All of a sudden, the business didn’t just perceive me as a comedic musical theater actor when they cast me in “Hedwig.” I was able to be perceived as also a serious actor and also a little bit downtown rock and roll, a little edgier than they may have thought. So it was a hard decision: Am I gonna leave “The Lion King,” this principal role in its first year of its run, to go downtown to do this show that maybe won’t run?

And it was the smartest decision I ever made. What a dream that was. And then I ended up opening the Boston company of “Hedwig,” and I did San Francisco for nine months, and then I did Edinburgh, Scotland. It was a wonderful gift that kept on giving.

And then “The Wedding Singer” was good for you.

Well, yeah, “Wedding Singer” and then “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” [where he played the Childcatcher]. I also did a play called “The Foreigner” at the Roundabout (in 2004), which was my first play in New York, and that was a wonderful break, with Matthew Broderick and Frances Sternhagen — another great moment where it’s all about perception and how the business is perceiving you. So when they see you in a play with those iconic actors, then you get more auditions for plays, and more auditions for hour-long dramas or movies. And it never ends — you’re always taking the ride as to what’s next, and how can I challenge myself?

And “La Cage” was such a wonderful, giant challenge. It still is, every performance. Sam Pinkleton is so brilliant and so smart, and seeing his choreography for “Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812,” and then seeing “Oh, Mary!” (Pinkleton’s currently running Broadway success)… When he called, I was like, “Yep. What time do you need me there? This afternoon?”

You had seen “La Cage” when you were 10, right?

Yeah, I saw “La Cage” in New York — original, original cast — and I’ll never forget it, because through my 10-year-old Texas eyes, I was watching this show saying, what is this? There are some images in that show I’ll never, ever forget.

What does it mean now, through your no-longer-10-year-old eyes?

I noticed that it’s been rare that there have been two gay men that have played the leads. Something that Cheyenne, Sam and I really wanted to embrace is that we did not want to be shy about their physical affection and how much they love each other and how much they’re like any other married couple. I think that Albin cannot believe that someone like George, who is so stunning and magnetic and charming, likes him. So that’s part of the beauty of their relationship.

You end the first act so powerfully and intensely with “I Am What I Am,” then come back at the beginning of Act 2 and make people laugh again, after having immersed them in some reality right before intermission.

And there’s a lot of pressure on an actor to close the first act. So many people have done “I Am What I Am” in just iconic ways. It’s been recorded by so many people. It is maybe one of the first true gay anthems — not another song that was already written that the gay community has adopted, but a song that was written as a gay anthem that the community embraced. And at the end of the first act, it’s like a “Defying Gravity” or a “Rose’s Turn” or one of those big musical theater numbers. There’s a lot of pressure to deliver. But as an actor, I have to sort of bring what I can do to the table and apply it to the text and hope that it works.

As you said, there are any number of ways it can be played, within a production or as a stand-alone anthem. With your edgier version of it, you wanted to make it about these times, somehow, and get some righteous anger into it?

Yeah, I think that, yet again, the LGBTQ+ community is hearing: You are not equal human beings, you are not equal Americans. And with every step towards progress — marriage equality, and all the other examples — it feels like there’s five more steps backwards. And I think that there is a primal, guttural response to that, in this version of “I Am What I Am”: You are not hearing me. Let me shake you and say I am what I am. What I am needs no excuses. That’s in the lyrics: I deal my own deck. Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s my world. And the primal  “I’m going to shake the foundation of this until you hear me” — that’s what I’m thinking every night. It almost feels to me Shakespearean. It feels like a great soliloquy, and an address to the audience saying, this is an immediate issue. You must hear what I’m saying. You know, there’s that lyric that repeats: There’s one life, one life. That’s a key lyric. It’s thrilling to be able to do, and it’s terrifying.

It’s easy to imagine how much that must take out of you.

And then you have like 15 or 20 minutes to recover, to get all the clown makeup off and put all the other makeup back on. My intermission is timed down to the minute, because the first character you see in Act 2 is Albin, so I’ve gotta get cleaned up and ready to start the next act with a giant comedic scene. That first scene in Act 2 is hilarious, (after) the sort of melodrama and pathos. So it really is a rollercoaster.

We’ve had great audiences, and I can see a lot of the audience at a lot of different moments in the show, because I’m talking to the audience a lot, like with that standup sequence in the middle of Act 1. And then “I Am What I Am,” it’s pretty lit. That’s really fun to see the audience, play with the audience. Which Peanut in “Shucked” does a lot, too. He would have these sort of monologues that he would address to the audience, sort of doing like a Minnie Pearl, “Hee Haw” kind of standup routine with the audience, and I always loved that part. I love communicating and communing with the audience one-on-one. It’s rare, but it’s thrilling to get to do.

Speaking of “Shucked,” here’s a question about that role, even though you’ve moved on and other actors are doing it on tour. There is a lot of sexual innuendo Peanut is putting across, where everyone just kind of stops to listen as he extends a metaphor. But it’s not necessarily apparent if he is doing it deliberately or it’s coming up through his subconscious. So… does Peanut know he’s gay?

I think he does. I made the decision that 1000% Peanut does know he’s gay. But, you know, he’s a unicorn, in a town full of goats. So he’s singular in that there’s not a lot of people that he could explore that side of himself with. And I’ve seen those people in rural communities before, who are singular, who are one of a kind. And I think about tribal cultures too. Like the people who we would say are are trans, but in tribal communities, they are between the female and the male world, somewhere in-between. They are the shamans of the tribal culture.

And Peanut functioned in that way. He was sort of the philosopher, sort of the preacher. He married the people, he buried the people. He was such an integral part of that community and the mechanics of that community, and those people are such a gift to whatever community that they are in. I always thought of Peanut in that way — like, there was something even a little witchy about him. Like, you know, “if I bury this in the backyard on a full moon, I guarantee you the crop will be even bigger next month.” I always thought of him as having a connection to the land, and I had so many lines about him talking to different animals. I thought, Peanut’s connected to everybody, talking to everybody. People think he’s crazy because he’s over there talking to a pig, but I guarantee you, he’s getting some important information. That was just such a fabulous character.

I’m also thinking now about the drag world and drag queens and how they are sort of shamans. They are sort of in this mystical other place that people look at with wonder and amazement, that they are able to do what they do, separate from everyone else, and they are communing with the world in a very different way. I just keep thinking of a shaman, like a healer, a philosopher. It’s an incredible thing to be able to be given roles where I’m playing these sort of larger-than-life characters that are hovering above everyone else in this sort of way.