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BY EDWARD GUTHMANN
San Francisco Chronicle Staff Writer
(Ed. note: Except for a small change to indicate when this movie opened this story is unedited. Notice how the author has respectfully used "she" when referring to Miss Bunny. We are making progress...)
In the Garden Court of the Palace Hotel, the Saturday lunch crowd is doing its best not to look alarmed. Well-dressed ladies from Hillsborough whisper over spinach salad and poached salmon. Midwestern tourist families look elated, as if they'd just spotted a rarely observed bird, and quickly snap a picture.
In the Castro District, where drag queens grow like weeds, the arrival of the Lady Bunny, New York performer and drag artiste, would barely merit a glance. But here in the sedate Palace, an outrageous drag queen in piled-high platinum wig, Lucite mules and black velvet micro-mini with liquid lame sleeves is cause for commotion.
``Drag pushes your adrenaline button,'' Bunny gushes over a plate of rare medallions of beef. ``You get to run in, make an entrance, everyone notices you. You don't dress like this to be avoided.''
Bunny, who won't reveal his real name or age, is the founder, master of ceremonies and ``high priestess'' of Wigstock, an annual drag lollapalooza that takes place each Labor Day weekend in New York City. Bunny's also one of the stars of ``Wigstock: The Movie,'' a lavishly entertaining documentary, directed by Barry Shils, that captures the goofy, over-the-top magic of the marathon.
Filmed at the Wigstock events of 1993 and 1994, ``Wigstock'' features performances by RuPaul, Lypsinka and such lesser known talents as Girlina, Taboo!, Miss tress Formika, Crystal Waters and the Dueling Tallulahs a pair of dressed-in-black queens who do Tallulah Bankhead singing ``Born to Be Wild.'' Between the acts, the Lady Bunny introduces the acts, spreads good cheer and creates a relaxed, family-picnic sort of ambiance.
It's worth noting that ``Wigstock The Movie'' wasn't made on the cheap, but produced and distributed by the Samuel Goldwyn Co., the outfit that brought you ``Much Ado About Nothing'' and ``The Madness of King George." With a high-profile release, and good reviews from most New York critics, ``Wigstock'' could broaden, if not solidify, the mainstreaming of drag.
It's a trend that began with ``Mrs. Doubtfire,'' picked up steam with ``The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert,'' and is likely to get another boost with two more Hollywood romps: ``To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie New mar,'' with Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes as New York drag queens crossing America by car, and ``Birds of a Feather,'' a remake of ``La Cage aux Folles'' with Robin Williams and Nathan Lane.
``And of course, here we are what? 10, 15 years later. And rap has not gone away. It's become an institution, like jazz.''
``Drag's been around forever,'' Bunny interjects. ``Think of Greek theater, Shakespeare.'' The difference with ``Wigstock,'' she explains, are the elements of spoofery, camp and gay mischief that go into the mix. ``Wigstock is not `Mrs. Doubtfire,' '' Bunny says. ``It has a bit more edge to it, an underground flair. The performers are pretty nutty and over the top.''
The film makes drag mainstream, Shils says, a fact that 's agitated a few purists. ``Some people say, `My God, you're taking some underground thing and destroying it by putting it on film.' You can't think that way. If I see something that fascinates me as a film maker, if I see talent or spectacle or something that deals with where we're at artistically, I want to expose it.
``And there's always going to be a new underground, some new drag queens cutting their wrists on stage or piercing their head or dancing around with some circus. There's always room for the new underground. ... The talent rises to the surface.''
For Bunny, the problem with high-profile success is accommodating all the people who want to attend the Wigstock festival on Labor Day. ``We won't advertise this year, I can tell you that,'' she promises.
``The first time I did drag I was 11, and it was Halloween,'' she says in her high, scratchy drawl. ``But I got my start as an adult drag queen by go-go dancing for a band in Atlanta called The Now Explosion, which also featured the talents of RuPaul.'' (Bunny and RuPaul were roommates in Atlanta and New York and remain good pals.)
Even in Atlanta, Bunny says, she never joined the old school of drag queens the kind who enter pageants and lip-synch to Melissa Manchester records in ` `Dynasty'' gowns. ``It was more artsy, new-wave alternative,'' she recalls.
Bunny spends an hour and 15 minutes putting together her look, doesn't bother to shave her legs (``I wear thick tights''), and manages to earn a living as a guy in a dress performing (she sings country-western), hostessing at various Manhattan clubs and producing the Wigstock festival with her partner, San Franciscan Scott Lifshutz.
Spurred by the success of their annual cross-dressing marathon, Bunny and Lifshutz are currently speaking to various promoters about expanding to other cities. Don't be surprised to see Wigstock West in San Francisco, in fact, as w ell as Wigstock South in Miami and EuroWigstock in Amsterdam.
``Even my mother calls me Bunny,'' the diva reveals. ``She's got ceramic bunnies in her yard, and an 8x10 8-by-10 photo of me on her dresser. When she sends birthday cards, she crosses out the `Happy' and puts `Hoppy Birthday.'' '