Cabaret

Reviewed by Katie Buenneke
Celebration Theatre
Extended through September 16 

RECOMMENDED 

By now, Kander and Ebb’s 1966 musical Cabaret is as much a part of the American musical theater canon as Oklahoma. While it’s much darker than most of its Rodgers and Hammerstein counterparts (save, perhaps, for Carousel), it now feels like an old standby, performed by regional theaters and colleges nationwide.

When most theater people think of the show, two things come to mind: the 1972 film starring Liza Minelli and Joel Gray, and the Sam Mendes revival, which first played on the West End and Broadway in the 90s. Despite their differences, there’s a tendency to conflate the original production and the 1972 movie (both featured an indelible, Tony-and-Oscar-winning performance by Joel Grey as the Emcee, but the film made Sally American and, for the first time, featured Bob Fosse’s choreography). By contrast, Sam Mendes’ production, narrated wryly by Alan Cumming, gave the proceedings an S&M twist, and has often featured a weak-voiced Hollywood starlet as Sally.

For those unfamiliar with the plot: the story is set in Germany in 1930. Cliff Bradshaw (Christopher Maikish) is an American who has come to Berlin to write a novel. He rents an apartment from Fraulein Schneider (June Carryl), makes friends with a smuggler, Ernst (John Collela), and, most notably, meets the mesmerizing cabaret performer Sally Bowles (Talisa Friedman). Sally, who is perhaps a predecessor to the trope of the manic pixie dream girl, gloms onto Ernst, and they have a perfectly marvelous relationship — until reality rears its ugly head. Fraulein Schneider’s beau, Herr Schultz (Matthew Henerson), is Jewish, and Ernst is a member of the Nazi party. Meanwhile, Sally’s self-destructive tendencies get the best of her, and her relationship with Cliff begins to unravel. Flitting in and out of the plot like a Greek chorus is the Emcee (Alex Nee), who is both part of the story and commenting on it.

When a show has been around for over 50 years, it’s tempting to think there’s nothing new to discover. And indeed, most productions fall somewhere on the creative spectrum between Bob Fosse’s 1972 movie and the Mendes production — borrowing liberally from one or the other, or both. After all, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? This staging, directed by Michael Matthews, feels familiar in many ways, but fresh in a few notable instances.

First, there is the setting. Celebration’s home at the Lex Theatre is an intimate space, giving the show an aggressively in-your-face feel (indeed, it’s a nice departure from the Mendes version and derivatives thereof, which notably use a large picture frame to showcase the orchestra and some of the action, an act of disengagement from the audience). Here, the Emcee stomps and struts mere feet away; also, it becomes more shocking to view the barely-dressed female ensemble at arm’s length rather than at a distance on a proscenium. The space is so lavishly decorated by Stephen Gifford and so strikingly lit by Matthew Denman that you don’t register its small size at first — but towards the end, you can feel the walls close in on you, much as Cliff senses the encroaching rise of the Nazi party.

There are also a few unexpected moments. Friedman’s rendering of the last few lines of “Maybe This Time” are heartbreaking, a stark contrast to her brassy delivery of the rest of song. And in the show’s final moment, watch to whom the Emcee reaches out for help. Moments earlier, with little to no subtlety, the production draws a line from the events it is depicting directly to Donald Trump. This is perhaps a little overbearing — the Charlottesville rally was not so long ago that we’ve already forgotten the aggressive presence of White Nationalists in America. But, in the final moment, the show condemns most harshly not Nazis, but those who could effect change yet choose not to out of self-preservation.

The performances are topnotch. Alex Nee is astounding as the Emcee — the range of expression he relays with his eyes alone is incredible. Most of the time, while his face and body are animated, his eyes remain shut-off, dead. But then, in a few specific, harrowing moments, he lets the audience in, lets us see the aching humanity inside. Talisa Friedman is impressive as Sally, charming and self-destructive and entrancing — you can see why Cliff is drawn in. For his part, Christopher Maikish shows more personality than is often found in Cliff, a character so blandly written it’s surprising that the musical is based on an autobiographical novel.

There’s much to like, and little to dislike. The pacing drags a bit towards the end of the first act, and the cast is done a disservice by not being able to see music director Anthony Zediker, who is tucked away with the orchestra above the action. This leads to a few moments that are just slightly off, musically. But those are small quibbles against the tremendous overall effect of the show. Celebration’s Cabaret hits all the right notes and brings enough novelty to the table to make an old story feel fresh.

Celebration Theatre, 6760 Lexington Ave., Hollywood; Thur.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; Extended through Sep. 16. www.celebrationtheatre.com. Running time: two hours and 30 minutes with a 20-minute intermission.