What happens when Agatha Christie meets Kris Kringle in the basement of a nightclub? A Christmas celebration like no other. Playwright, lyricist, actor and Gold Dust Orphansfounder Ryan Landry joined Jim Braude and Margery Eagan on Boston Public Radio to chat about his latest theatrical venture: Murder On the Polar Express, on stage now at Machine Nightclub through Dec. 21.

Highlights:

Margery: I don't know how you come up with this stuff.

Landry: I make a terrible waiter. 

Margery: Please tell us about Murder On The Polar Express. 

Landry: I've never actually seen the movie The Polar Express—

Margery: It's terrible. Book is good. 

Landry: The story is about all the major Christmas characters, including Frosty and Rudolph, and the Virgin Mary, and the Little Drummer Boy, and the Little Match Girl, and they all get on a train and become wrapped up in the murder of Santa Claus. But that's not a spoiler... 

Jim: Sounds like a very heartwarming Christmas tale, Ryan, yes?

Landry: Absolutely not. 

Jim: Okay, fine. Is there a Sherlock Holmes character in this?

Landry: There is a Shirley Holmes character. 

Jim: What role is she playing in this—or he, depending...?

Landry: It's me! I play Shirley Holmes. How dare you, Jim. I'm deducting who exactly is to blame for the murder. As it turns out... well, I can't tell you the rest. Just know—I'm playing Shirley Holmes and quite well, I might add. 

Margery: Did I read that Santa was impaled by icicles? 

Landry: Yes, a dozen icicles. 

Margery: That's really brutal. You'd think that they would melt on contact with Santa's skin... 

Landry: Margery, you're trying to get me to give you clues and answers to the show, and I'm just not going to. Actually— that comes into play, young lady. 

I think, for the most part, theatre has done itself a great disservice by just being dull.

Jim: Every single person who works in and around your business say you're one of the great treasures. Do you consider yourself a great treasure in Boston?

Landry: I consider myself buried! Do I consider myself a treasure? I don't know. I came from a trailer park, I just like to make people laugh. In Wallingford Conn., Colonial Village Trailer Park. 

Jim: Tell us about that. 

Landry: Well, my father used to hang deer up in the back yard off a tree, and we had a bunch of old cars he would strip for the copper and just leave them out there, and it was a small trailer park. I say I grew up in Connecticut and people think it's all ups and downs, a giant column or neoclassical... 

Margery: You began your acting career as a toddler, I understand?

Landry: Well, I was dancing on the tables, yeah, but that was just to please my father. I wanted to make him happy, I wanted his attention... but once I became a queen, it was all over. 

Jim: I know it's not a straight line—

Landry: Nothing is, in my life.

Jim: From the trailer park in Wallingford, Conn. to here? I know there are a lot of stops along the way. 

Landry: Well, I was a drug-addict and a hooker—

Margery: Well, hold on... don't pass that by so quickly. This was down in New York City, right? So it's lucky you're still with us, this is dangerous business. 

Landry: Well yeah, this was the '70s. 

Margery: What kind of drugs?

Landry: Oh, everything. The thing is, I made a terrible heroin addict, because I couldn't remember to shoot up every day. 

Margery: You were going to art school in New York, and hustling—

Landry: To pay for it, yeah. I finally lived past my expiration date and wasn't making the dough anymore, so I had to leave school. 

Margery: How scary was that?

Landry: It wasn't scary at all! 

Margery: But you didn't know who you were going with!

Landry: Well, I didn't care. I wanted adventure and excitement. And I didn't want to work a real job—I did work a real job, I was always terrible at it. 

Margery: What'd you tell your parents you were doing in New York City?

Landry: Hookin'. 

Margery: You did not. 

Landry: Yes I did. 

Jim: How did they take to that, Ryan?

Landry: They wanted the money!

Margery: But you did have a very influential John that you met during your misadventures.

Landry: Seymour Stein, do you know who he was? He owned Sire Records. But see, it was never a sex thing with me, it was really just a goof. I just hung out with these guys and they liked me because I would talk, and just make them laugh. We would do a lot of drugs and go to antique roadshows and auctions and things, and it was just a life of... I didn't care what happened next, I just wanted something to happen. 

Jim: How did you end up in Provincetown?

Landry: I was on Fire Island... I hit all the gay stops. And I hated it— I don't like fancy people, I'm white trash, and quite proud of it. I didn't like it out there, and so I went to Provincetown. The minute I hit there, I was like— all these old Portuguese families, and they all loved me, and I got along with them, and of course I started doing drag again, just to make money... 

Jim: What year was this? 

Landry: Oh, '79?

Jim: Was that Anthony Bourdain days in Provincetown?

Landry: Oh, I don't know her. 

Margery: Then what?

Landry: Oh, I was in the Navy. 

Margery: How was that?

Landry: Oh, it was great on the way out— they found cocaine in my urine, so... 

Margery: Why did you join the Navy?

Landry: I knew I was going to get out— my sister was in California, and I wanted to join her, but I didn't want to pay for the plane fare so I joined the Navy. We stationed in San Diego, which is right near my sister, and she was in the military, so I told me I could get out, but she didn't tell me how long it would take to get out. 

Margery: How long did it take? 

Landry: MONTHS!

Jim: Can we move from your sordid past to your sordid present?

Landry: Why not? Low-life in high heels. 

Jim: When I saw you 2-3 years ago at Machine, even though I was prepared—I was told, in advance, by somebody who loves you and loves your work, from Thoroughly Muslim Millie to Rudolph the Redneck Reindeer... you really can't be prepared for the Gold Dust Orphans until you see them. What is the experience like?

Landry: I think a lot of people who come to our shows don't go to any other theatre. I think, for the most part, theatre has done itself a great disservice by just being dull. I just want to make sure there's not a moment, from the time the curtain opens, until we take our bow, that there isn't any boredom. I don't want to give them any time to check their watch. I think that as a person who people pay to see, I think it's my duty and responsibility to think of the audience first— not our own egos or our own headshots or our careers as actors— we think, how are we going to make these kids go absolutely bonkers, and have a good time?