Cabaret

From the opening strains of the knockout opening number, which bids the audience "Wilkommen" in several languages, Cabaret is marvelously successful in transporting audiences to a different world. It is 1929, and the world is that of Weimar Germany, in the days when the Third Reich was coming to power. John Kander and Fred Ebb's magical score allows us to effortlessly slip into the past, when good times were as close as the neighborhood nightclub. In this case, the nightclub is the decadent Kit Kat Klub, where the sleazy, bisexual emcee proclaims, "We have no troubles here." Anyone who recalls Cabaret from the hit film starring Joel Grey as the emcee and Liza Minnelli as Sally Bowles, the nightclub headliner, can be prepared for a shock in viewing the new stage version. It's much bawdier, nastier and in-your-face than the film. The show works, but it demands to be understood on its own terms. In rethinking the basic structure of musical comedy, the show's creators have pieced together a dazzling intermingling of plot, character and form. But there's a price to pay; we're likely to feel disoriented and slightly defeated by the end of the show. The emcee's early reference to "no troubles" takes on a bitter irony by the final curtain.

At first, nothing seems out of place. Our genial host, the emcee, engages us once more. As before, he wears a long, black leather coat. However, this time he looks battered and bruised. He stumbles. Underneath the coat is a concentration camp uniform, accented by a yellow star and a pink triangle. He mimics being executed. Fade to black.

A show as vividly drawn as Cabaret demands a top-notch cast to pull it off, and this is where the current national tour comes up short. Kate Shindle, a former Miss America, is woefully miscast as English chanteuse Sally Bowles. Shindle can carry a tune, but she certainly can't hold a stage. It is puzzling to think that this well-scrubbed American beauty could have been cast as Sally, a girl who gets by on her wits, her charm and (presumably) her freely distributed sexual favors. Shindle is very pretty—too pretty, in fact, to be cast among the hardened chorus girls (all of them are quite wonderful, by the way). More problems: Shindle's English accent is miles off base, and she conveys all the sexual energy of a Sunday school teacher. She creates no sexual sparks with Cliff (Jay Goede), the American writer who is supposedly so enchanted by her that he allows her to move in. On Broadway, the role of Sally has been rather a revolving door for the past two and one-half years. Actresses as diverse as Tony winner Natasha Richardson, Joely Fisher, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Susan Egan, and Lea Thompson have had various levels of success as Sally. But Kate Shindle is going way, way beyond the boundaries. The rest of the cast is so brilliant, it only heightens our awareness of Shindle's limitations.

Early on, we are impressed by Jon Peterson's emcee, who may not be sinister but sings well and is very fun to watch as he scampers through one sexual escapade after another. A surprise standout is Alma Cuervo as Fraulein Schneider. Her world-weary solo number, "So What," serves as a resonating counterpoint to the decadence around her. We end up caring far more about her twilight-years romance to Herr Schultz (Hal Robinson), a Jewish fruit merchant, than we do about the more central relationship between Sally and Cliff. Another strong performer is Drew McVety as Ernst Ludwig, the smuggler who befriends Cliff during his first days in Berlin. Visually, he is perfectly cast as an "ideal" German specimen. The Kit Kat girls and boys frolic deliciously. In particular, Joshua Judge is excellent as Bobby, one of the "boys." As Bobby, Judge must take on the characteristics of both genders during the show—and play the saxophone, to boot. He scores high marks in all departments.

Production values are excellent. Director Sam Mendes' vision is perfectly complemented by Robert Brill's shabby Kit Kat Klub, William Ivey Long's tattered showgirl costumes and Rob Marshall's astonishing choreography, which seems to be transported directly from the red light district.