Hannibal's Queer Midweek STRANGER THANGS Review
On a Wednesday night in Philadelphia, when most people are counting down to the weekend, Franky Bradley’s was wide awake with glittering, spinning, scintillating rainbows. The occasion? Stranger Thangs, a burlesque and drag spectacular presented by Haus of Lickher, not just a radfull tribute to a super beloved pop-franchise but also a reminder. A call to consider why midweek queer nightlife matters, why spaces like Franky Bradley’s endure, and why the best productions brandish something far harder than polish to generate: heart.
From the moment the lights dimmed, it was clear that Stranger Thangs wasn’t interested in parody for its own sake. Drawing from the shared pop-cultural language of Stranger Things, the show leaned into recognition as an invitation rather than a crutch. We the audience were welcomed into the weird, our expectations readied then flipped with humor, sensuality, and unrestricted imagination. The result was a night that felt both meticulously crafted and joyfully spontaneous.
Haus of Lickher:
Production With a Pulse
What sets Haus of Lickher apart is not simply their audacious ambition, but also their seasoned restraint. Throughout the production, Hannibal demonstrated a confident balance between production value and intimacy; tight crowd cues, spontaneous but thoughtful audience dialogue, and a genuine love for the performers who gave their all in these wonderful, character-driven performances. From host to kitten, everyone not only pulled out all the stops to delight us, but also (intentional or not) remind us of how far we’ve come, even just since the 80’s. But of course it wasn’t only Hannibal wowing us, all performers earned the sparkles of last night’s 500 disco balls.
see dropdowns for clips & descrips
Hannibal Lickher (@hannibal.lickher) delivered an unforgettably creepy portrayal of Number One hosting, and an equally adorable performance as Eddie Munson. Blending “Master of Puppets” into Journey’s “Separate Ways”, they led the room into a full throated karaoke singalong that transforming the audience into collaborators.
Mad skills Hann!
Jaeda (@jaeda_yi) opened a portal between glamour and menace as the Mind Flayer, melting Dianna Ross’ “Upside Down” into Metallica’s “Master of Puppets.” The transition was striking, and embodying the show’s central tension, a fantastic opener! Control versus release, seduction versus threat.
Romeo Blaque (@romeoblaque) softened the room as Lucas, performing to Michael Jackson’s “You Give Me Butterflies.” It was tender, charming, and grounded. I’ve not seen Romeo perform before but this was proof, quiet moments in the hands of the right artist, can resonate as spectacle.
Ren Noir yes, as Erica Sinclair but even more so as the fantastic bitch we all adore, Erica’s badass persona Lady AppleJack. Ren strut slammed her heels across the floor, petulantly snatching dollar bills from our hands before tossing them to the floor without concern. Erica Sinclair would be proud.
I always need a bit of self-eval after beholding any of The Brettzo’s performances. But his gemini stars were in full effect tonight, capturing the dirty dad bod swagger of Jim as we know him, before transforming into a scantly clad super hero expression of Jim, broad sword wielded in hand swinging nearly naked and all toward the Demgorgon we could almost see on stage beside him.
Bev (@itsbevbitch) reclaimed Barb Holland’s narrative (as performed by Tootsie, iygiygi) utilizing the all but too perfectly lyriced, “Don’t Forget Me” from Smash. Her performance was delightfully sharp, hilarious and honestly, kinda sad (in the poignant way). But then with that BevBitch, what else do you expect?
What the hell?!
No really, what the hell!? Look … there’s just no review that can put into words what it’s like to be born in Philly in 1981, have my life and then watch Cinnamon Cheri do Dustin Henderson with a full rendition of The NeverEnding Story. It was so easy, she needed no effort with that level of mind-blown… but that didn’t stop her from crushing it (of course – this Queen deserves all 5 syllables). (FULL SCREEN THIS CLIP FOR SUPER HAPPY JOY-JOY MOTHERFUCKER!)
Like seriouly … on my clips I never let myself be heard but that wooohooohoo, I couldn’t help it.
And who could of course forget one of Philly premiere stage kittens, the fabulous Dizzy Marquee. Her energy is fiercely kind, playful and above all, loyal to the performers. She does nothing to intrude upon a good time (except make it better) and yet, I’ve always gotten the sense she’d be one of the first to scratch out the eyes of a guest who rejects boundaries (thankfully though, hasn’t happened yet).
*Hanson’s song “weird” was originally “queer”… buut last second, they flipped the word so as to not embroil the youngest Hanson in controversy. The Hanson brothers continue to express love toward their LGBTQ fan-family decades later because they still kick ass.
When not in Eddie Munson drag, Hannibal guided the evening as Number One alongside stage kitten extraordinaire, Dizzy Marquee. Together they kept the evening’s struts and transitions fluid while preserving the intimacy that made it all feel personally produced, rather than forced and overproduced.
Throughout any of Haus of Lickher’s evenings an obvious truth always emerges, and this production was no different: Stranger Thangs was lit not because it tried to own the room, but because it honors the room. They work hard to allow space for vulnerability, for humor, for growth and because of that, a genuine connection is fostered. Not to speak personally, but when the lights came up I found myself engrossed with a recent Philly transplant. He had come in from Wisconsin a couple weeks ago and, knowing no one yet, caught wind of Stranger Thangs and braved the cold to attend. He felt welcome and excited and comfortable despite being entirely and completely alien to not just the crowd, but the city. It’s first for individuals like him that I feel midweek, queer events are so important. Because as the band Hanson so wonderfully once sang about, anyone can suddenly realize, they are … queer*. And often that realization is coupled (at first) with feeling alone.
Why Midweek Queer Nightlife Matters
Family. That’s why. Because there’s something subtly radical about a Wednesday night Stranger Things drag & burlesque performance. Midweek events are the expression of sincerity, genuine effort. The crowd that came out to Franky Bradley’s came because it was worth showing up for, because alone or well known, they knew they would be amongst queer siblings. It’s in this safety, these midweek events that another purpose is served. It’s where experimentation happens, where artists take risks, where community shakers can gather without the pressure of spectacle for spectacle’s sake. Stranger Thangs thrived in this space, intimate enough for performers to move through the room, close enough for awkwardly close eye contact, spit out your drink laughter, and a few shared moments to bring it all together.
The audience responded in kind. Cash was stacked on tables. Phones came out to capture moments people wanted to remember, not just post. Most vividly I’m sure I will enjoy the memory of Hannibal’s karaoke-led Journey singalong and Cinnamon Cheri’s NeverEnding Story. These were the sorta moments where performer and audience dissolved into one shared experience.
In a city where queer spaces are in high demand, nights like this matter. They remind us that culture doesn’t only live on weekends and that joy, connection, and care don’t need permission to exist midweek.
Franky Bradley’s: A Cultural Incubator, Not Just a Venue
Franky Bradley’s has long been more than a bar. It is a cultural incubator, one of the few spaces in Philadelphia where drag, burlesque, comedy, cabaret, and experimental performance coexist naturally. Its low ceilings, clustered disco balls, and cabaret-style layout create an environment where distance disappears so performance can be communal.
Stranger Thangs felt at home here. The space supported the show’s blend of polish and play, allowing performers to interact directly with the crowd while maintaining a sense of theatricality. Franky Bradley’s doesn’t just host culture; it shapes it, offering artists a place to test ideas, build audiences, and grow into themselves.
That role matters.
Cultural ecosystems don’t survive on spectacle alone; they survive on spaces willing to take chances on artists and audiences willing to show up for them.
Pop Culture as Shared Language / Safety as Foundation
At its core, Stranger Thangs worked because it treated pop culture as a shared language rather than a gimmick. Everyone in the room understood the references allowing for those references to be transcend and mean more. The familiar was human, playful, and under 500 twinkling discoballs, oh so merry & queer.
Equally important was the sense of safety that permeated the night. The room felt free. Free to laugh, to cheer, to be ridiculous, to be tender. That safety allowed the performances to land not just as entertainment, but as connection.
In a time when queer spaces are too often treated as expendable, nights like Stranger Thangs remind us what they actually are: places where culture is made, where community is reinforced, and where joy becomes an act of care.
Congrats and grats to Hause of Lickher for another radfull event!
