Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club
By now all theater-goers not living under a rock have heard at least three things about Broadway’s 5th iteration of Cabaret. (The original opened in 1966; the film in 1972.)
- That the show was/is a runaway hit in London, garnering an Olivier Award for its emcee, Eddie Redmayne. 2. That the August Wilson has been restructured to create theater in the round with three bar lounges and up front tables assimilating café atmosphere where those with lots of disposable income can eat and/or drink. 3. That it’s suggested audience arrive over an hour early for a pre-show.
Eddie Redmayne and the Company
Let me warn you off the third. Holding pens – excuse me, bar areas – are crowded and stuffy with little choice of alcohol except at the downstairs one. Given so much time to kill, liquid refreshment is almost a given. This undoubtedly makes up for seats lost in reconfiguration. No one tells you that one can, in fact, take drinks into the theater. Be aware. The so-called pre-show offers pockets of live music, with little relation to anything Weimar, and performers who wander among us mugging or simulating dance. It neither sets an appropriate mood nor is, in any way, fun.
You know the story: Young writer Clifford travels to Weimar Berlin for inspiration, meets money launderer, Ernst, and club performer, Sally Bowles. The latter moves in with and on him initiating the naïve Pennsylvanian to decadence. They couple, despite the fact Clifford is “primarily” gay. Meanwhile, landlady Schneider and fruit seller Schultz enter a tender, late life romance. As the Nazis take power, Clifford is appalled to learn what Ernst is doing; Schneider fears for her life if married to Jewish Schultz. Clifford and Sally are part of the fallout.
Gayle Rankin (Sally Bowles)
Original material holds up, but Nazi presence seems too subtle in this interpretation. The emcee’s toy-like gun with flag is a nifty touch as are the “dolls.” Still, a vicious attack on Cliff is poorly depicted, after which the victim appears barely rumpled with not a sign of blood. Minimizing the threat of antisemitism and its consequences, at a time when war is being fought from our campuses to the Middle East, with echoes around the world, eschews the opportunity to be currently, not just historically topical. It echoes Herr Schultz’s surety that the rock through his window came from mischievous kids and that things will pass. I suspect this musical will continue to be staged for countless years to come and blanch to think it will remain relevant.
Rebecca Frecknall, apparently having dreamed of directing Cabaret since a teenager, was brought onboard by Eddie Redmayne. Their vision is coherent. Frecknall’s circular platform staging serves to establish club-like intimacy. Actors turn without our undue awareness of necessity. Chorines mingle with those upfront. The band occupies balconies so as not to take up limited space. When characters retreat to the peripheral they remain focused, while onstage and offstage lines are effectively blurred.
Ato Blankson-Wood (Clifford Bradshaw); Gayle Rankin (Sally Bowles)
Eddie Redmayne is mesmerizing as the emcee. Both accent and German are credible. The multi-talented thespian can sing! Iconoclastic movement, now reptilian, now with mechanical precision, always fierce and wily, captures both history and his significance as the festering soul of Germany.
For perhaps the first time in successive versions, the relationship of Sally and Clifford takes a backseat to that of Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz. It doesn’t seem intentional. Not only is there no chemistry between Blankson-Wodd and Rankin, there’s next to no affection between the characters. Given Clifford is bisexual (they probably both are), some reserve would be natural, but this feels cool. It’s impossible to believe they’ve had sex.
Ato Blankson-Wood’s Clifford Bradshaw is, at first, aptly innocent, but the only sign he’s neglected work for constant (and enthusiastic) partying is a couple of sentences. This could have been accomplished with direction. The young writer’s realization of what’s going on elicits little visible anger or upset. Dialogue is insufficient here. Nor do we believe his urgency of departure.
Gayle Rankin (Sally Bowles) and the Kit Kat Girls
Gayle Rankin’s Sally Bowles emerges credibly presumptive, mercenary, morose, and occasionally joyful. Ignorance in the face of threatening social change might’ve been enhanced by a more flighty attitude. I also miss Sally’s innate flirt. Vulnerability comes late. Hysterical performance of the title song doesn’t affect as it should. Rankin’s vocals are often strident.
On the other hand, every moment we’re watching the older couple is realistic, nuanced, moving. As Fraulein Schneider, Bebe Neuwirth inhabits an exhausted warhorse, tickled and hopeful at being courted, too frightened and pragmatic to risk – everything. Neuwirth’s strong, signature vibrato adds to the tremulousness of the fraulein. Emotional timing is impeccable; the pineapple scene priceless.
As Herr Schultz, Stephen Skybell makes a complete circle from his outstanding portrayal of Tevye. Accent, bearing, expression, and vocals arrive as if he’s stepped out of the past. The appealing actor is heart-in-hand splendid.
Steven Skybell (Herr Schultz), Bebe Neuwirth (Fraulein Schneider)
Ernst Ludwig (Henry Gottfried) is volubly nonchalant in his righteousness, but evinces little other distinctive character. Give us something. Alternately, prostitute Fraulein Kost (Natascia Diaz) has created a whole person from sensual slouch to lascivious smile.
The company/dancers are uniformly grand. Each and every one talented – energetic, lewd and gleeful.
Except that you wouldn’t want to get caught there in a fire (traffic is congested with few alternate routes or apparent exits; those directing are disorganized), Tom Scutt’s theater design works well to embrace current concept. If you have an issue with stairs, ask in advance for directions to an alternate entrance. The outer rim of the stage revolves; a wedding cake platform rises and descends. Both are effectively employed. Use of unnerving dolls in one number is inspired. Visual and audible illusion of smashed glass evokes shudders. (Pristine sound throughout – Nick Lidster for Autograph.)
The Emcee (Eddie Redmayne) and the Kit Kat Girls
Costumes are a mix of successful and puzzling. Ragtag separates including period lingerie work well on chorus, but modern components – a crocheted bikini, a gingham country blouse…are jarring. Onstage combat boots also force dancers at Lempicka to clump. Sally’s opening ensemble, an exaggerated babydoll dress, is ugly and unlikely. Breaking from tradition, the heroine only briefly looks attractive (or feminine) in a scene stripped of make-up, draped in one of a series of open kimonos. Her tacky, period-perfect fur coat, however, is wonderful.
The emcee’s theatrical costumes, also an amalgam of then and now, creatively embody debauchery and gender fluidity – what Redmayne wears WHEN is always telling. Once again one wonders at the unnecessary use of contemporary components.
Make-up design (Guy Common) is ghoulish. Though facial cosmetics at the time overemphasized eyes and lips, a troll through Weimar photographs evidences nothing like the ghastly visage we see onstage. Nor was colored hair a “thing.”
Choreography (Julia Cheng) is terrific. Dance is fast and exacting around the emcee, in positions from suggestive to out and out vulgarity. Occasional intertwining is imaginative and wry. Cheng adjusts to song themes ably sustaining atmosphere.
Photos by Marc Brenner
Cabaret at the KIt Kat Club
Book by Joe Masteroff
Music by John Kander; Lyrics by Fred Ebb
Music Supervisor – Jennifer Whyte
Based on the book by John Van Druten and stories by Christopher Isherwood
Directed by Rebecca Frecknall
The Kit Kat Club/August Wilson Theatre
245 W 52nd Street
