This is a superbly realised creation: her plastic smiles recall Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie, her amiable arrogance recalls Dame Edna; but the sexualised portentousness is her own, capable of swatting hecklers and conveying satire in the same breath. The songs, though, Kleenex aside, are rarely as good as their titles suggest: beautiful musically, tight lyrically, but lacking a killer punch.