Cabaret Review
Long story short: save your money. Avoid Cabaret; go see Wicked or All of Me (The New Group) instead.
My daughter and I went to see the latest production of Cabaret on Broadway this past weekend. Our friend (and regular theater companion) was supposed to join us. Unfortunately her dog was injured in a routine grooming and had to be taken to emergency vet care. Handing her ticket over to her cousin, my friend was understandably disappointed to miss out on seeing the show, starring Eddie Redmayne and Gayle Rankin. That was until I called her at about 4:15pm, the matinee having started at 2pm. My daughter and I were on the way to the subway having just walked out of the renamed Kit Kat Club in disgust.
Maybe disgust is too strong of a word...
Maybe not.
Now, before I launch into this discussion of the show nominated for Best Musical Revival at this year's Tony Awards, I want to make a few general statements. First, I love the movie Cabaret. I love everything about Liza Minelli's performance. I have also read the novella upon which Cabaret is based, and I am pretty well-versed with the historical context of 1930s Berlin.
I also happen to be a big fan of the kind of theatricals that Cabaret should include. I love burlesque and vaudville and history. I am also not, I think it's fair to say, in the least bit prudish when it comes to such performances. I walked into the Kit Kat Club fully expecting the production to be edgy and sexy.
The problem, however, is that, despite the enduring music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, and book by Joe Masteroff, the current product is devoid of either edge or sex appeal.
As I walked into the theater, now transformed to resemble a seedy night club to fit the whole Cabaret experience, I turned to my daughter, concerned that the investment in the ambiance - multiple bars, scantily clad performers dotted around the space - was not going to match up with the performance itself. I rightly predicted, in fact, that the product places all of its emphasis on getting its patrons drunk and overstimulated so that they don't notice the flaws of the main show.
Since I didn't partake (and my kid is too young), I went into the theater with only a headache induced by the sensory overload of too many corridors and sweaty patrons.
When Eddie Redmayne (undoubtedly the main draw) appeared on stage for Cabaret's opening number, "Wilkommen," the first thing I noticed was the weirdness of his costume. As you can see in most the publicity, he wears an undersized party hat of vomit green and a kind of leather skirt that makes it look like he ought to be working for a blacksmith or a butcher.
Costuming aside (and I had read that the costuming was weird) the thing that underwhelmed me about the first song (only getting worse as the show progressed) was the tone of Redmayne's character. The Emcee is supposed to narrate the story and also provide some important context for understanding Berlin's underworld. He's also supposed to sell the idea that the club is hot (as in sexy, not overheated) and that it's a place that you want to be to indulge in a truly decadent lifestyle.
A Decadent Lifestyle?
Not a chance.
And while Redmayne left something to be desired, only once exploiting the whole idea of the theater-as-nightclub idea and really inviting audience participation (discounting what looked like pretty awkward plays to specific audience members in the front rows), it was Gayle Rankin who really brought the sink. "Mein Herr," probably the most iconic numbers in the show, was a disaster. She shrieked her way through it, managing to quash any and all sex appeal that the song is actually supposed to convey. After all, the speaker is addressing her former lover, telling him that the affair is over and he basically always knew it would end (the speaker/Sally Bowles is "a rover" and he had "every cause to doubt [her]"). The context is pretty damn clear.
In the build up to this number, though, it was hard to get past the weirdness of Rankin's costuming, too. In her first song, "Don't Tell Mama," she looked like she was wearing a diaper that was about to fall off. It didn't help that she was also dressed like a baby, which, okay, sure, she's telling the audience not to let her mother know that she's been hanging around with men and getting into some tricky situations. But again, this song (and Cabaret) is meant to be sexy. Making Bowles look like some kind of Chucky doll does not fit with the song. She's sharing a joke and being playful with the audience, not trying to gross them out.
If I'm honest, that is about as much as I remember from the show. The rest I either blocked out or missed entirely because I closed my eyes in horror and fell asleep. The supporting characters were okay - better than the leads, though that's not saying much. And I can't really saw that the historical context was at all noticeable in the half of the show that I saw. Maybe it got better, but I was not willing to take the change that it could get worse!