|
 |
Studio 54, New York
Cabaret
musical byJohn Kander and Fred Ebb
October 9, 1999
Review by Andrew Yarrows
 
|
My best friend Erin was in town this weekend paying me a visit, and I charged two tickets for Cabaret at Studio 54 in anticipation. The only available seats in the orchestra for the Saturday evening show were on the right side of the floor, described to me (over the phone by the Telecharge lady) as “high-backed chairs along a bar where you can rest your drink.” Neat, I thought. Not that I need an invitation to drink, as I’ve been doing that enough lately when I hit the local bars here in Hell’s Kitchen, but it’s certainly a change from the usual Broadway show procedure. I normally hate ordering drinks at intermission, as I never feel there’s enough time to sip before one has to return to his seat, sans food and beverages. If I do go for something, I’m usually forced to throw it back and hit the restroom while I still can, and by the time I take my seat it’s gone to my head. Not the best thing to have happening when you’re trying to pay attention to what’s going on onstage!
The two of us got all dolled up, decked out, ready to go and did the glamorous thing once we hit the street. We walked. I know, I know… We’d laid down $150 for tickets as it was, so we might as well have made a night of it, overspending, and hailed a cab. But it’s always more interesting to pass through the tidal wave of beggars, crack addicts, whores and the like on 9th Avenue, so we didn’t mind. However, need I remind Erin that my feet were killing me the whole day, and the pain only got worse as we made our way from 45th street to 54th. And I don’t mean that they were sore from walking around all weekend, either (even though we did do a lot of hoofing it about in the city). My feet were actually bleeding from a new pair of shoes I’d purchased the night before. How Skechers can get away with selling such murderous footwear is beyond me. I kept wondering if everyone who owned that same pair of shoes had suffered equally, or if it was simply my feet that were destined to become bloody shreds the day after breaking them in. Perhaps I should not have been surprised to find that, the Monday following my purchase, the Skechers in Times Square closed down permanently. Coincidence, or…? Anyway…
Skecher’s vendetta and the resulting medical emergency aside, we arrived at Studio 54 and I picked up the two tickets waiting for us. I always have an irrational fear that the person in the ticket booth will tell me there aren’t any tickets waiting for me and send me into a panic; as usual, they were forked over without incident and my nerves were soothed.
Studio 54 less than impressed me. It’s obviously an old place. The mirrors still line the entrance way, as I’ve seen in countless documentaries on the building when it was the infamous disco-era night spot, and the carpeting in the lobby was a dank, evil-looking leopard skin print. Maybe it was the lighting, but it looked like it needed a shampooing. Thankfully, the line of people waiting in the lobby was let inside at 7pm, early for a Broadway show, but appropriate for Cabaret, the idea being that you order drinks and/or food at your table and have an hour to throw it down before the show begins. Once inside the actual theater, I was still not impressed by my surroundings. It was dark and looked to be crumbling, an old theater in need of a restoration. Perhaps some of that look is played up for the purpose of Cabaret itself (the seedy nightclub setting and all), but it was a touch saddening. It could be a rather nice theater with a little work.
Our seats were just as they were described: high-back chairs at a bar facing the stage on the right-hand side. They were much more comfortable than they looked to be at first glance, and I need a good back to a chair to maintain my posture, which is ever-prone to slouching when I sit down, so I was pleased. The cocktail waitresses came along and took orders for food and drink, clad in semi-scandalous costumes in the theme of the show. I ordered a large size cosmopolitan (sounds like I’m ordering at McDonald’s doesn’t it? That's an odd concept when you think about it. In 20 years I bet we’ll all be standing in line at Mickey-D’s and hearing “I’ll have a Big Mac and a vodka straight. Supersized!” and think nothing of it. The day McDonald’s gets a liquor license is the day I’ll know the world is going to end). Erin ordered a regular sized cosmo, and a sandwich. We received our order quickly and I drank my cosmo in about 10 seconds as usual. On an empty stomach, let me tell you, that’s a bad way to go. I was feeling rather happy within a few seconds and almost forgot myself and dug in my pocket for a cigarette. Bars have conditioned me, what can I say? Of course, the drink isn’t what put me under the table. It was the bill that floored me. $37!!! I kindly asked the waitress to repeat the amount, trying to smile naively despite wanting to flee through the emergency exit, which I am pretty sure was right behind my seat. I gave her two twenties and she lingered as if she expected me to put a few loose dollars on the plate with the bill. My exaggerated smile is what finally sent her away. Sorry, but for $37 she should have been happy I didn’t spit out my last gulp of cosmopolitan onto the table beneath our little bar from the shock. There is no excuse for two drinks and a sandwich costing that much money, even in Manhattan at a Broadway show. We could have gotten all of what we ordered that night at Joe Allen’s for under $25, I’m sure, and it would have been far better. The sneaky thing is, none of the prices were on the menus we were given. Well, take my word for it and don’t be fooled, friends. Never again!
The evening, thankfully, improved once the show started. Cabaret manages to capture a wonderfully gaudy, smoky, decadent atmosphere without much of a set and a lot of suggestive choreography and unflattering makeup jobs. The Kit Kat Club’s female dancers, who we see onstage first of all, set the evening’s tone, one of menacing sexuality and rampant vice. They look like bedraggled hookers rather than the energetic, proper performers one might expect to see in the same setting today, leering into the crowd and thrusting both hips and tongue into the air. I believe a number of audience members appeared scandalized by the girls onstage (either that or they’d ordered more than 2 cocktails and a sandwich in the preceding half hour).
Just about everyone knows the story of Cabaret, so I won’t bother going into it here. Besides, it’s presented in a manner that is fairly easy to grasp for anyone who hasn’t heard anything about it (and anyone who hasn't will most likely be a tad shocked at what they see). I was very interested to see both Michael Hall and Susan Egan as the MC and Sally Bowles, respectively, as I’ve read several varied comments on his performance and I have always been a fan of her in previous roles (which have included the female leads in Broadway’s Beauty and the Beast and 1997’s Triumph of Love). I wasn’t disappointed. Michael Hall captures all of the ghoulish, carnal ferocity of the MC’s character and has a strong singing voice to boot, despite looking entirely wrong for the part. I realize that my opinion of the MC’s proper physical appearance has been tainted by the likes of Joel Grey and Alan Cumming, but there’s a slinky, depraved nature about the role which conjures up images of an emaciated, skeletal being, not a muscular, strapping man. I suppose that was the only trouble I had with Hall; he seemed more like a real, accessible man than the deeper, surreal and terrifying issues the MC’s character is supposed to represent. While his performance was very strong, his appearance was distracting. Not a big deal, I know, but it did rather bother me.
Susan Egan was splendid as Sally Bowles. She was a chattering, sweet yet masochistic lass, not terribly talented but totally convinced that she was just that. Mind you, I am not saying that Egan isn’t talented, because she is. It’s her talent, as an actress, which makes her capable of playing the flawed, dispensable amateur that Ms. Bowles character remains oblivious to, caught up in her own self-indulgent, intoxicated world. I’m very happy that Egan pulled off the role so well; her previous work has consisted of playing mostly sweet young women who would rather sit home reading books and making brownies than doing drugs, drinking like a fish and fornicating rampantly. It’s a good change for her, as it proves she can do different, edgier things.
I found Cliff, as usual, to be an almost irredeemable bore. It wasn’t really the actor’s fault, although he was rather wooden (we saw understudy Brian Duguay in the role), more the part’s. Cliff is given so little to do musically that he seems out of place, despite being so important to the story. It's supposed to be his story, after all. On the other hand, the roles of Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz provide a relief from the somewhat stifling Kit Kat Club scenes, their post-middle age romance truly touching in light of the open hatred they face at the hands of the burgeoning Nazi popularity. Carole Shelley and Laurence Luckinbill were fine in their roles.
The big surprise was Victoria Clark, who I was familiar with from the original cast of Titanic, the Broadway musical, in which she played that gossipy second class passenger who rattles off a staggering litany of rumors about the ship’s rich and famous passengers in the opening number. Here she is Fraulein Kost, the slutty boarder who is constantly rubbing Fraulein Schneider the wrong way with the endless “visits” paid upon her room by young sailors. Clark does a great job, stealing a few scenes despite her small role.
In general, I found the production to be borderline OTT (that stands for “Over The Top”, by the way). Were things really like that in cabaret clubs in Berlin during that time? I have no way of knowing, because I was born almost 50 years after the events depicted in Cabaret take place, but something tells me it may not have been quite so decadent. I’m no historian, so correct me if I am wrong. The production definitely has a 1999, gay-influenced edge to it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter much. I think that the message intended gets across regardless of realism. In the era of AIDS, it’s very appropriate. Just as a holocaust went unrestrained and unchecked in the 1930s and 40s, so too has one raged in the 80s and 90s. At the close of the second act, as the MC removes his leather coat to reveal the white and gray, pajama-like uniform of a concentration camp inmate, this dual relevance is given greater visual enforcement. He wears not only the star of David on his chest, but also a pink triangle, his doom ensured. The message, amidst all of the Kit Kat Club’s decadence, is that obliviousness to reality can lead to great calamity, even in our present time.
The show's two-level set is used well, allowing for easy transformations from the Kit Kat Club to Fraulein Schneider's rooming house and, a couple of times, a train station. The orchestra, involving many of the actors themselves, is seated above the floor of the Kit Kat Club, centered inside of a lopsided picture frame surrounded by light bulbs, some working and some not. It adds to the seedy atmosphere of the club, even more than was already prompted by the dingy lighting design and dark, dry-rot wooden sets.
At intermission, I stepped out for a cigarette and Erin indulged my bad (but only occasional) habit. Woody Harrelson passed by with a small entourage, looking beastly as ever. I’m amazed such a low-grade could ever be considered a catch, but apparently a great number of women actually view him as such. No accounting for taste, I guess. But, mark my words, had he not lucked out and made it in acting he would surely be living in a trailer park right now, wearing a wife-beater, guzzling Budweiser and picking his nose while watching the cars pass by.
Anyway, catch Susan Egan in Cabaret, kids! Just don’t get caught by the insanely expensive drinks and wallet-busting food. Instead of going broke at Studio 54, wait 'til the show ends and just head over to one of the many places on Restaurant Row for some worthwhile consumables at fair prices.
-------Andy
Discuss this review and more
See other reviews currently available
|
|
