Kander & Ebb’s 1966 stage musical Cabaret, although set at a specific time in history and in a specific location (Berlin, 1929, if you’ve forgotten), is a parable for the rise of any totalitarian regime at any time and in any place. In a country crippled by poverty and where a sense of national shame prevails following defeat in wartime, the sleaziness of the decadent underground Kit Kat Klub thrives; here, the Bohemians and artists of Weimar hang out, sexual licentiousness is de rigeur and the doomed romance between British nightclub singer Sally Bowles and American writer Cliff Bradshaw is played out.
Treble Theatre’s production begins excitingly and promisingly, with the dancers in silky scanties working the room, gyrating and pole-dancing amongst the audience. The spirit of Alan Cumming’s award-winning Emcee – with his leather coat, sauciness & even some of his hand gestures – lives in Laura Noble: she is a commanding stage presence, alternately leering and playful, lascivious and challenging – and she boasts a huge voice.
Katie Hargreaves’ Sally Bowles seems a little too generically posh Brit initially, but comes into her own later in the show when drunkenly belting out the titular song, staggering across the stage, desperate and heartbroken.
The strength of the production – quite apart from the expected powerhouse performances of LIPA’s highly talented students - is in the portrayal of the secondary characters who struggle day-to-day to survive the insidious creeping in of Nazi influence into their lives; the doomed romance between the struggling German boarding house owner Fräulein Schneider (Franki Burke) and her elderly Jewish suitor Herr Schultz (Daniel Henry), a fruit vendor, is played out tenderly and delicately, and is all the more poignant for it. The transmogrification of ordinary people into vicious anti-Semites is exemplified by Ernst (Michael Wolf) – who gives us the most chilling moments as we see him go swiftly from a cheery and benign Del-boy type to a racist thug. ‘Tomorrow Belongs To Me’, sung by the ensemble and which closes act I, still has the disturbing power to provoke goosepimples and wide eyes from the audience – as does the Emcee’s shocking slapstick song-and-dance routine with a girl in a gorilla suit. (“If you could see her through my eyes... she wouldn't look Jewish at all.”)
The constant & consistent use of suitcases as props and furniture offers some clever foreshadowing, hinting at the future evictions, ghettoisation and ultimate movement of the victimised to the death camps. The sense of the dangerous intoxication of the times was also headily evoked by the authenticity of the costumes, set dressing and the sheer energy of the pumped-out score.
Director Jake Norton states in his notes: ‘This production exudes a bluntness in references from the both from the period and not’. Unfortunately, my one real issue was with the use of an extended barrage of bludgeoning images & footage from around the word, tacked on to the end of the play; this was unnecessary and could be seen as patronising the audience – being more of a TIE device than one suited to adult viewers. Better by far to end on the beautifully lit/chiaroscuro, distressing and arresting tableau of piled up twisted and mangled bodies, as the Emcee stands over them, smoking: this image alone would justify the whole production.
Reviewer - Tracy Ryan
on - 2/5/19
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