#1
Posted: 9/4/03 at 12:38pm
I know it's a bit early for this, but the piece in the TIMES brought back incredible memories of one of the most incredible nights of my life.
I remember sitting at my desk at work, and picking up the phone to hear a dear friend invite me to attend the opening night of Cabaret (the current revival) with him. And to the shock and horror of most, I hemmed and hawwed (rlb...is this a Southern phrase and did I completely misspell?). You see, I was never a fan of the show. I saw a friend's production in college and although he made a wonderful Texas and our friend Liz made an intriguing MC (no, that wasn't a typo), it was a rather painful night in my life. It truly soured me to the show. I was not in any way, shape or form ready to sit through it again. But an opening is an opening (said the sailor to the trannie) so I donned my new Calvin Klein suit, muzzied my hair up and made my way down to the Henry Miller Theatre to see Miranda Richardson in CABARET.
Yes. I thought it was to be Miranda on that stage. I couldn't begin to imagine Natasha Richardson trodding those boards as Sally Bowles. 'Eegads!' I though. 'This is going to be a nightmare.'
And then, the drumroll hit and two incredibly spooky eyes appeared through a slit in the center door. The shivers started immediately. Out came a sickly apparition, with tracks on his arms, scratches down his back and glitter on his nipples. To say I was completely mesmerized is so not enough. As more and more of the cast filled the stage, tears began to form in my eyes. Tears that did not stop until about 10 minutes into the cast party. I cried because I was truly able to comprehend, in the moment, what I was seeing. I was always jealous of others who got to see the original Carousel or Follies, figuring those days were over and I would never have a comparable experience. But the dark and disturbing beauty of this piece and the simplicity to which it was brought to me were overwhelming. Those two+ hours reaffirmed my faith in theatre and, surprisingly, my faith in life.
And what a remarkable 2+ hours they were. Songs I never thought twice of ('Married' and 'The Pineapple Song') became moments filled with aching desire and, if you are familiar with the show, misguided hope. I was surprised to hear 'Maybe This Time' interpolated into the score. The staging was so beautifully fluid without relying on much spectacle. But the show sizzled for one reason, and one reason only: that cast.
Alan Cumming seemed to personify two things at once: the decadence of the Weimar and the encroaching menace of the Nazi party. The shocking coup du theatre that ended the show was so jarring because Mr. Cumming allowed us to believe in both sides of his characterization, making his (spoiler if you haven't seen it) appearance in concentration camp garb heartbreaking. The look on his face was that of a lost child, betrayed by a figure that promised protection. He most certainly deserved the accolades he received for that show.
Mary Louise Wilson was a flinty Frau Schneider who melted in the arms of her loving partner Ron Rifkin. The two brought a sensuality to their roles the worked perfectly in this production.
I truly believe bringing an accordian on stage during a Nazi musical may be a mistake. I mean, how can you not help but laugh at such a ludicrous instrument (apologies to Lawrence Welk). The fact that Michelle Pawk could not only pull it off, but turn it into a chilling moment still amazes me.
Denis O'Hare brought to Herr Schultz a sexy, beffudled quality that made him entirely sympathetic until he revealed the ice-cold, calculatory nature of his character. It was, for me, the key performance in making this CABARET so visceral.
And then there was Natasha Richardson. She gave, to this day, the best performance I've ever seen on a stage. Although vocally 'weak', the commitment, choices and chops she brought to each of the songs was awe-inspiring. No one ever has (or ever will) sing CABARET like she did. Coked-up and desperate, she astonishingly navigated the story of the song, ending with defiant screams of the very thing she chooses her life to be about. Somehow, she appeared to drain all of the blood from her body and, in that moment, she was as wraith-like as the MC. During her final confrontation with Cliff (the excellent John Benjamin Hickey in a cipher of a role), my friend turned to me and said 'She'll never be able to keep this up', referring to the shattered, emotional commitment she brought to the scene. But keep it up she did.
I've thought about the finale of the piece ever since I saw it. If it were only a 'the Holocoust was bad' message, it would have affected me, but not in the throbbingly present way it did. After all this time, I've finally come to realize what it was that caused me to weep like an infant. With each principal picked out in a solitary spot, Sally looking for the missing orchestra and the rest of the cast all separated just enough to illustrate how solitary they all were, I believe Mendes and Marshall were making a point that during a time of horrible crisis, where it looks like the world may truly be coming to an end, we are all horrifingly alone. I'm not sure about any of you, but I think that may be my greatest fear.
So hail and farewell, CABARET. You've made me a better artist and a better person. I'll never be able to repay that debt.
I remember sitting at my desk at work, and picking up the phone to hear a dear friend invite me to attend the opening night of Cabaret (the current revival) with him. And to the shock and horror of most, I hemmed and hawwed (rlb...is this a Southern phrase and did I completely misspell?). You see, I was never a fan of the show. I saw a friend's production in college and although he made a wonderful Texas and our friend Liz made an intriguing MC (no, that wasn't a typo), it was a rather painful night in my life. It truly soured me to the show. I was not in any way, shape or form ready to sit through it again. But an opening is an opening (said the sailor to the trannie) so I donned my new Calvin Klein suit, muzzied my hair up and made my way down to the Henry Miller Theatre to see Miranda Richardson in CABARET.
Yes. I thought it was to be Miranda on that stage. I couldn't begin to imagine Natasha Richardson trodding those boards as Sally Bowles. 'Eegads!' I though. 'This is going to be a nightmare.'
And then, the drumroll hit and two incredibly spooky eyes appeared through a slit in the center door. The shivers started immediately. Out came a sickly apparition, with tracks on his arms, scratches down his back and glitter on his nipples. To say I was completely mesmerized is so not enough. As more and more of the cast filled the stage, tears began to form in my eyes. Tears that did not stop until about 10 minutes into the cast party. I cried because I was truly able to comprehend, in the moment, what I was seeing. I was always jealous of others who got to see the original Carousel or Follies, figuring those days were over and I would never have a comparable experience. But the dark and disturbing beauty of this piece and the simplicity to which it was brought to me were overwhelming. Those two+ hours reaffirmed my faith in theatre and, surprisingly, my faith in life.
And what a remarkable 2+ hours they were. Songs I never thought twice of ('Married' and 'The Pineapple Song') became moments filled with aching desire and, if you are familiar with the show, misguided hope. I was surprised to hear 'Maybe This Time' interpolated into the score. The staging was so beautifully fluid without relying on much spectacle. But the show sizzled for one reason, and one reason only: that cast.
Alan Cumming seemed to personify two things at once: the decadence of the Weimar and the encroaching menace of the Nazi party. The shocking coup du theatre that ended the show was so jarring because Mr. Cumming allowed us to believe in both sides of his characterization, making his (spoiler if you haven't seen it) appearance in concentration camp garb heartbreaking. The look on his face was that of a lost child, betrayed by a figure that promised protection. He most certainly deserved the accolades he received for that show.
Mary Louise Wilson was a flinty Frau Schneider who melted in the arms of her loving partner Ron Rifkin. The two brought a sensuality to their roles the worked perfectly in this production.
I truly believe bringing an accordian on stage during a Nazi musical may be a mistake. I mean, how can you not help but laugh at such a ludicrous instrument (apologies to Lawrence Welk). The fact that Michelle Pawk could not only pull it off, but turn it into a chilling moment still amazes me.
Denis O'Hare brought to Herr Schultz a sexy, beffudled quality that made him entirely sympathetic until he revealed the ice-cold, calculatory nature of his character. It was, for me, the key performance in making this CABARET so visceral.
And then there was Natasha Richardson. She gave, to this day, the best performance I've ever seen on a stage. Although vocally 'weak', the commitment, choices and chops she brought to each of the songs was awe-inspiring. No one ever has (or ever will) sing CABARET like she did. Coked-up and desperate, she astonishingly navigated the story of the song, ending with defiant screams of the very thing she chooses her life to be about. Somehow, she appeared to drain all of the blood from her body and, in that moment, she was as wraith-like as the MC. During her final confrontation with Cliff (the excellent John Benjamin Hickey in a cipher of a role), my friend turned to me and said 'She'll never be able to keep this up', referring to the shattered, emotional commitment she brought to the scene. But keep it up she did.
I've thought about the finale of the piece ever since I saw it. If it were only a 'the Holocoust was bad' message, it would have affected me, but not in the throbbingly present way it did. After all this time, I've finally come to realize what it was that caused me to weep like an infant. With each principal picked out in a solitary spot, Sally looking for the missing orchestra and the rest of the cast all separated just enough to illustrate how solitary they all were, I believe Mendes and Marshall were making a point that during a time of horrible crisis, where it looks like the world may truly be coming to an end, we are all horrifingly alone. I'm not sure about any of you, but I think that may be my greatest fear.
So hail and farewell, CABARET. You've made me a better artist and a better person. I'll never be able to repay that debt.
"I'm so looking forward to a time when all the Reagan Democrats are dead."
I never knew the actual synopsis. I always thought it was about a Cabaret with a MC with red nipples! I guess I should have remembered something...every musical that hits the scene has a message. Even if it is hidden deep, it is there and usually very important. I really hope this starts up it's tour again, to give me the privilage of seeing this memorable musical!
