Alaska—also known as Alaska Thunderfuck, Alaska 5000, or Alaska Thunderfuck 5000—isn’t necessarily the drag queen you’d expect to see headlining a night at the Vogue Theatre. 

As evidenced by her meme-heavy set at Happyland this year, the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race: All Stars 2 is known for danceable pop nonsense. She wiggles in trash bag couture and towering blond backcombs; she mixes her trademark vocal-fried “hieeeee” with songs called “Anus” and “This Is My Hair”; she leans on being a Drag Race superstar (and superfan) while carving her own successful career that’s led to speculation she could replace RuPaul whenever the latter retires. 

But she looks completely at home onstage in a floor-length Santa-style gown—just her, a microphone, her friend Jeremy accompanying her on a grand piano, and a screen for visual gags. (There’s a perpetual semi-circle missing from the bottom, as Alaska’s bodacious beehive is tall enough to interrupt the projector. The neck strength required for these wigs!) 

This show, rescheduled from December 7, is, she notes, almost the end of her tour. And while it might be past Christmas, the spirit of the holidays lingers long enough for her wintertime wonderland. 

Although the tour is billed as It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Alaska… A Christmas Show, it feels like a largely timeless cabaret that’s been gussied up with a few festive trimmings—notably her costumes. When Alaska sheds her red dress to reveal a green one below, a Santa-clad burlesque kitten appears to gather her shed fabric (and twerk).

The act is a mix of scripted comedy bits interspersed with songs, performed with a surprisingly strong voice that isn’t apparent in most of her output of gay noise. Her rendition of “Can’t Keep My Eyes Off Of You” with the mid-song addition of a Jesus doll—referencing black comedy classic Drop Dead Gorgeous—is a highlight, as is her faux-apology for any offence she may have caused, noting in her drawn-out drawl that she “loves Jesus.” 

As could be expected, the contents cater pretty heavily to Drag Race connoisseurs. There’s a brick joke involving Irene “The Alien” Dubois, the first-out queen from season 15; she references her podcast, Race Chaser, which is a review of that very same show; and she ends by singing Roxxxy Andrews’ infamous verse from “Read U Wrote U”, as is a tradition at every Alaska show. And, fittingly, the audience loves it, with plenty of raucous screaming, good-natured heckling, and occasional confused silence during the more serious Theatre-coded segments. 

The contents of Alaska’s spoken segments are well trodden, with her over-long bits about eating the rich and AI taking over the world feeling a little staid. Both have satisfying conclusions —though, somehow, they drag, in a show that’s notably short and snappy. 

Most impressive are the moments when Alaska gets to show off her considerable vocal chops. Her affection for camp vocal affectations belies the power of her voice, especially a well controlled lower register that glows with formal training.  

After her newly created AI assistant Robotica turns off all the power in the theatre—well, house lights, stage lights, and mics—Alaska returns to stage, holding an old-timey lantern, to deliver a stripped-back rendition of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”. It’s genuinely touching, and the only overtly Christmas-y part of her show besides her outfits, which adds to the holiday sentiment.

The final chunk of the show sees her solicit song suggestions from the audience, with her friend of over 20 years tickling the ivories for everything from Loosey LaDuca’s “Let Loose” to Evanescence’s “Bring Me To Life”. Watching her command the stage as she flipped between songs—now clad in a golden star-like frock—is charming, as is the warmth in her interactions with both Jeremy and the audience. 

Clocking in at under 90 minutes, the show is almost disappointingly short. At a time when live shows are so expensive to both produce and watch, it isn’t a lot of bang for your buck. Perhaps, then, a queen known for her excess is mastering restraint—leaving her audience wanting more.