Jacques Brel is no longer alive and well and living in Paris, as he was when he became world famous. Is that why a "Parisian Cabaret" revue of his songs mostly features death? Oh, love too. But it's fated. The art-deco leaded glass framing the stage arch and backing the piano cordons off the performers. Clad in black leather, crepe, velveteen, rayon, they begin a "Marathon" like robots, miked to the teeth. From then on, they proceed as if "The Desperate Ones" they sing about.
Seriously "Alone," Jim Weaver has the best diction all the way to his "Bachelor's Dance" with its humorous touches. Leslie Ann Hendricks' soprano, sweetest, handles well the offbeat narrative "Timid Frieda" with the men's interesting backup. Tina Stafford's straightforward "I Loved" ends with a nice surprise, though she's predictably funereal on "My Death" as well as typically snarling on "Marieke." Paul Blankenship all but shout the strong sailor's song "Amsterdam" but puts comic touches on "The Funeral." Kidding bullfight music and antics or whirling as if on a "Carousel" make up the quartet's finest moments, but Michael Sebastian's piano is a consistent joy.
An optimistic finale -- whew! -- relieves the bleak tone which the upbeat talk about love generally fails to do.
