The Wasp Goddess, Imperious, Vulnerable and (Gasp) Unmasked

Some women never seem to get older, because they never looked young to begin with. You know, the kind who make you think they must have been born 35, in their bountiful prime and in full makeup. You can’t help wondering, though, about what really lurks behind the lipstick, and if the mask they’re wearing ever feels too tight. Lypsinka, the greatest chanteuse who never sung a note, is that kind of dame. After an absence of nearly 10 years from the New York stage, she’s returned to her old neighborhood — the East Village — in not one but three shows under the umbrella title Lypsinka! The Trilogy, which opened Thursday night at the Connelly Theater in a Tweed TheaterWorks production. And I gotta tell you, she hasn’t aged a day since she started hanging out in louche dives like the Pyramid Club more than (say it ain’t so!) 30 years ago. She still strikes those perfect nightclub goddess poses, both sultry and imperial, with the same forbidding, invitational hauteur. Sure, there are plenty of hints that inside a few screws have been shaken loose. But that was always part of the lady’s fascination. That Lypsinka! The Trilogy, whose three parts run in repertory through Jan. 3, brilliantly assesses the toll taken on women by their facades should surprise no one. That has always been the strength — and the high art — of this performer, and it is on virtuoso display in reprises of two of her classics, both staged by Kevin Malony, Lypsinka: The Boxed Set and The Passion of the Crawford.