The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he didn’t exist. At least, so it’s been said. In turn, the greatest trick Nazism ever played was convincing Americans it couldn’t happen here. Worse, that it didn’t happen here. It did and obviously it is again. That’s all to lay the foundation for why Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret is so vital. Director Rebecca Frecknall’s interpretation currently playing at the August Wilson Theatre cranks up the vitality, deftly walking the tightrope between truly entertaining and completely chilling.
If you’ve followed this production from its West End origins, you know that it’s one that puts the audience in the role of Kit Kat Club patrons. Thankfully, the August Wilson hasn’t been completely converted to a night club. Though there’s lurid pre-show entertainment in the lobby, you can sit away from the spotlights.
That doesn’t reduce our complicity in the production. This also began with Eddie Redmayne as the Emcee, on one level just what the character name suggests, but on another, a disturbing observer and commentator on what is happening in the last days of the Weimar Republic. He’s almost supernatural.
Redmayne has long left, and as has become standard with clever revivals, Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club replaces one celebrity with another in the key role. It’s a brilliant casting. Out and proud rock star Adam Lambert reminds us that he started out as a theater kid, and the energy he brings to the Emcee hammers home the tragedy and terror of where this musical goes.
Famously, the Emcee was originated by Joel Grey, and most who followed were in that vein. Slight, lithe tricksters you can’t help but be captivated by. Lambert can be a trickster, but he’s also an imposing presence. His Act One appearance seems fairly in line with how he’s presented himself in concert, even if the music isn’t what he usually sings. Wild costumes (by Tom Scutt) in the vein of what social media called “demented nightmare clown” dominate. At first it’s fun. But when Lambert rises from the depths of the stage to sing “Money Makes the World Go ‘Round,” Scutt has turned the Emcee into a monster. Still a little clownish, but now a diaphanous glittery skeleton with a German stormtrooper’s helmet.
Complementing Lambert, Auli’i Cravalho steps into the role of Sally Bowles. The “star” of the Kit Kat Club, Sally represents the willful blind eye people want to turn to rising evil. After all, “life is a cabaret.” If there’s a misstep in bringing in the voice of Disney’s Moana, it’s hat the insanely talented Cravalho may be too young. Why Cravalho wanted to do it seems obvious; it’s a great role and certainly counter to what she’s known for. But Sally is a character stuck in a delusion of being a star, and nowhere near as talented as Cravalho herself.
For a fanboy tie-in, Loren Lester (Robin/Nightwing in Batman: The Animated Series) understudies the role of Herr Schultz, an older Jewish fruit-seller who romances his landlady. The night my wife and I attended, Lester stepped into the role and was great. (I didn’t know he was in the cast, so a happy surprise.) Herr Schultz falls victim to how banal and quietly insistent the evil of Nazism is. Though the show ends before the worst of history, the casual rise of anti-semitism can’t be missed.
Back to why this production is so effectively chilling with Lambert in the role of Emcee. Still clowning, he contemplates a tightly styled blond wig in his hand while singing “Tomorrow Belongs to Me.”(A disturbingly beautiful ballad that has indeed been co-opted by white supremacists around the world. You’d think it was a real Nazi Party anthem.)
That happens to open the second act, and Lambert never appears as a clown again. As things get darker, he becomes more “normal,” more Aryan and buttoned-down. Yes, the same thing happened with Redmayne in the role, but his public persona isn’t as fabulous. Seeing Lambert tone down, clearly going along with the wave of nationalism, is flat-out scary. The twinkle he usually has in his eye goes out, and he plays the irrational hatred and anger bubbling toward the surface.
The fear that rises in me is that people might not realize the inevitable fates of the characters. Frecknall directs the show with all of them having conformed, except for nominal protagonist Clifford Bradshaw, the American writer currently played by Calvin Leon Smith. But of course it ends before the Holocaust. The cast gets their standing ovation, and outside in the stage door line, people excitedly chatter about having seen Moana live, disconnected from what they really just saw. (Oddly enough, you can see Moana’s mother live, too, a couple of blocks over in Sunset Blvd.)
I can’t judge. At first, Cabaret is glossy and fun. It’s also exciting to see the bravura performances of Lambert and Cravalho in particular. But I’ve pointed out before on Fanboy Planet that as repetitive as the message may get, I welcome each and every portrayal of how horribly insidious Nazi Germany was because it must not be forgotten. Having a song in our hearts isn’t enough to fight it.
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