Lady Gaga, Mexico City, review: more brilliantly bonkers than Katy Perry in space

Telegraph

27-04-2025

You could be forgiven for thinking that the combination of Lady Gaga's recent Las Vegas jazz residency and her burgeoning Hollywood career (A Star is Born, Joker: Folie à Deux) might have distracted her from ludicrously spectacular pop theatrics.
Thankfully her new tour is a Tim Burton meets Rocky Horror high-concept, high-camp goth opera that sets the standard for gloriously overblown pop performance. Gaga's 2025 global tour dates follow her Coachella headline slot and the release of new album Mayhem, generally regarded as a return to form as well as widescreen dance-pop. Most are arena gigs dubbed The Mayhem Ball, with Gaga saying arenas provide an 'intimate… more connected' experience - which just proves the level of her global fame.
A stadium was required, however, for this her first Mexico shows since 2012, and she sold out two nights at Mexico City's 63,500-capacity Estadio GNP Seguros. The crowd, sporting far more gay fetish gear than the Coachella hipsters, whooped during Saturday's show as Gaga read a speech in Spanish praising the city's passion. A large man wearing a papier-mâché version of Gaga's famous meat dress cheered particularly passionately.
Gaga kicked off the gig atop a three-story red birdcage dress housing her army of dancers, all jerk-dancing to opener Bloody Mary. Dressed in velvet like a highly caffeinated Queen of Hearts, Gaga emerged from the cage and danced with a walking stick while singing the anarchic Abracadabra.
The show was separated into acts, each with an enjoyably pretentious title such as 'And She Fell Into a Gothic Dream'. There may have been a story linking them, but as Gaga and her dancers faced off on a giant chessboard for Poker Face, narrative didn't seem important.
Parris Goebel's choreography sometimes appeared to be designed more for the camera than the crowd, but it also required one hell of a workout and Gaga was clearly unafraid to show the lung-busting effects of the writhing and sliding which ensured that the show still felt human.
For further intimacy of sorts, during Perfect Celebrity Gaga sang from a sand pit, next to a human skeleton prop, occasionally caressing its ribs. She then pared the music back for a swooning Paparazzi, the weightless chorus floating unimpeded by orchestration as Gaga's white dress billowed over chrome body armour and crutches.
During the third section (sorry, I mean, 'The Beautiful Nightmare That Knows Her Name'), things drooped a bit. Killah's twiddly riffs sounded like they were commissioned by an advertising agency as a cheap substitute for Kiss by Prince. The Chic-esque Zombieboy was more salon than stadium, although as Gaga and her dancers were grinding with more skeleton props, you couldn't call it boring.
Momentum was regained by the dirty synths of Born This Way, with Gaga and her dancers wearing militaristic jackets, shiny hot pants and tights, like the Imperial officers from Star Wars on cabaret night. It's a flawless banger in any context, but it felt newly-significant to hear a US icon sing this anthem of inclusiveness during the second age of Trump, in a city big on machismo. Gaga dabbed her eye as she introduced the song's message of relentless positivity.
After playing the equally heartfelt, if slightly dull, piano-led Blade of Grass live for the first time, Gaga ended the set with Bad Romance. As a goodbye she waved massive parsnip-like body horror claw props during the thumping version of her 2009 hit. It was a brilliantly bonkers finale, and beat Katy Perry being blasted into space in an Amazon van as the most epically odd pop event of 2025.