Reviewed
on March 6, 2011
by Sophie Kerman and Anna Rosensweig
While navigating the winding road
to the Centennial Showboat for the Frank Theatre production of Cabaret, we remarked that one of the
things that makes theater-going special is the process of getting there. Unlike
reading a book in your living room or going to a convenient showing at your
local movie theater, going to a play requires advance planning. It's not an
easy escape: the show times are limited and the locations sometimes obscure.
But the payoff, at least in this case, is worth leaving the comfort of your
home or changing your weekend routine.
The
Frank Theatre
has a history of putting on interesting and provocative productions. They write
in their mission statement that they are "committed to producing work that
reflects the world in which we live." The reflection that they offer with Cabaret is not an obvious one, but is
the all the better for drawing parallels that are not trite or heavy-handed.
The plot, which tells the story of a seedy Berlin night-club during the decline
of the Weimar Republic and the rise of the Nazi party, doesn't lend itself to
easy comparisons with current events, but its themes of willful ignorance,
escapism, and loss of political innocence ring painfully true to today's
audiences.
The
success of the production has much to do with the talented ensemble cast. Cabaret is not a play that gets carried
by any one character. Between the chilling versatility of the Emcee (Bradley
Greenwald), the
bittersweet romance of Fraulein Schneider (Melissa Hart) and Herr Schultz (Patrick
Bailey), and the subtle loss of naivety of Sally Bowles (Sara Richardson) and
Cliff Bradshaw (Max Wojtanowicz), there were no weak links. One of the unique
challenges of this play is that the singing is often supposed to be second
rate, and yet this must come across as a deficiency of the character rather
than the actor. In this respect the musical direction by Michael Croswell was
right on pitch: the characters' amateur vocal stylings were rendered all the
more powerful by the actors' virtuosity.
In
fact, the actors were so successful at putting on a good show during the first
act that we worried at intermission that the characters' underlying desperation
was getting lost. Musical numbers that might have had both grit and
entertainment value seemed strangely clean and unironic. We told ourselves that
the success of the play would hinge on transforming the happy-go-lucky escapism
of the first act into a starker world where such na_ve pleasure is shown to be
impossible.
Thankfully
the second act revealed precisely what we had hoped to see. From the very first
dance number featuring showgirls doing high-kicks in a swastika formation, it
became clear that the thrills and laughs of the first act depended on both the
characters' and the audience's denial of the grim economic, political, and
sexual ramifications of the show they had been enjoying. Tensions emerged not
only due to rising anti-Semitism but also surrounding the latent misogyny that
sustains cabaret performance and, in many ways, the relationship between Sally
and Cliff. This spiral of social disillusionment culminated in a breath-taking
last number, which showed the character's earlier aspirations to be based on
what they wished to be true rather than on the harsh realities of the world
around them. This number repeated and transfigured words, gestures and
choreography from previous scenes, recasting the performers as real bodies in
pain rather than objects of pleasure and rehearsed titillation.
While
all the individual performances were strong and compelling, it was Wendy Knox's
cogent and incisive interpretation that propelled the show beyond simple-minded
entertainment or didactic political commentary. Under her direction, both the
individual characters and the community they form emerge as human. Subject to
the hopes, despairs and will to survive that shape even those decisions that we
may find distasteful or unconscionable, the characters nonetheless elicit our
sympathy and provoke reflection on what it means to exist within a corrupt
society. Knox's brilliant re-envisioning of the play's ending coalesces into a
single moment that strikes to the core.
If
the play begins with the Emcee luring us in with promises that we can leave our
troubles at the door, it ends by showing how impossible such escapism really
is. Troubles never stay at the door; they creep in from every corner. In the
Frank Theatre's interpretation, the cabaret stages political tensions, economic
hardships, and very real human dilemmas. While we thought we were fleeing our
real lives for an afternoon at the theater, Cabaret reveals that to experience
good theater is not to escape real life, but rather to see it in a new light.
Note:
Thanks to the Frank Theatre's thoughtful response to an audience focus group,
they now follow their Sunday matinee productions with a panel discussion and
audience talk-back session that encourage engagement with their provocative
stagings and interpretations. We highly recommend staying and absorbing
whatever the Frank Theatre has to offer.