Life is a Cabaret: What I Liked This Week #28
Alternate title: "OH, EMILY"
Hello! Sorry, I have a LOT to talk about because back in March, something possessed me and I decided to make plans for nearly every night of the month of April. That was highly stupid of me, but also…maybe brilliant? I thrive on a busy schedule, especially when it revolves around things that are exciting to me.
As I said to my mom, I originally started this newsletter partially because sometimes when I see a show I desperately want to keep talking about it, long after other people want to listen, and therefore I need an outlet. That’s self-awareness.
Anyway, be prepared to be SICK OF ME.
Theater: Cabaret, Oh, Mary, Lempicka
There are many ways to experience Rebecca Frecknall’s revival of Cabaret on Broadway, and I experienced the ideal one. Tickets to Cabaret are prohibitively, absurdly expensive; I did not pay for mine. Drinks at Cabaret’s pre-show are around $30, and feature fancy things like gold dust; I had 2, and spent no money on either. Although Cabaret is performed in a traverse-stage-quasi-in-the-round setup, the actors play to one side more than the other; I was on the lucky side. So, naturally, I had the time of my life.
I give context for my (glamorous, exclusive) experience at Cabaret because I know this is likely not how everyone will get to see the show. I had this experience because I was in press seats (as a guest of my brilliant friend Brittani Samuel - you can read her review here). Question for the group: If Brittani and I enjoyed our visit to the Kit Kat Club, why did so many other critics dislike it1?
And ok, I’ll admit it, part of the reason I enjoyed Cabaret so much was that I’ve never seen it before. It is a Good Musical, and I love “discovering” a new Good Musical, even if it’s been around since 1966. But is it my fault I was a Chicago girl and didn’t think to look into Kander and Ebb’s other work? Idk. Maybe?
Cabaret, or as this production is named, ‘Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club,’ dives into the pre-war world of Berlin, following two transplants, Sally and Cliff (Gayle Rankin and Ato Blankson-Wood), who fall in love while Nazism rises around them. Sally is a performer, Cliff is an author: they’re the classic doomed couple, and the club’s Emcee (Eddie Redmayne) escorts us as we follow their story to its inevitable conclusion.
Cabaret’s tagline is “In here, life is beautiful,” and for a moment, it is. Rebecca Frecknall’s production features an hour long preshow with schnapps shots, sexy dancers on pedestals, and even accordion player. It’s a clever trick to seduce the audience, to draw them into the club just as much as Cliff is.
Largely this works. Life in the Kit Kat Club is seductive, it is exciting, and it’s messy in a way that encourages you to let loose. Somehow the effect is both grotesque and enchanting. Cabaret’s dancers are dressed like a cross between a porcelain doll and a harlequin clown, and move like marionettes (an image enhanced by the tiny, carousel-like turntable on stage). Redmayne’s Emcee is electric and demonic, a terrifying grin pasted onto his face at all times. Redmayne totally escapes into the role — whereas with Alan Cumming, it feels like there’s a bit of Cumming in the Emcee (don’t laugh), and vice versa, Redmayne is gone, replaced with a sinister ghost. And yet the songs in the club are so wonderfully fun, such classically perfect Kander and Ebb numbers, that you’re still enjoying yourself instead of running for your life.
Leaving the club for scenes in the boarding house doesn’t feel like a drag, though. Bebe Newirth gives a lovely, grounded performance as the house owner, and Blankson-Wood and Rankin are hesitant and sweet together in a way that’s endearing. It’s refreshing to see Blankson-Wood in a role that could be so easily Aaron Tveit-white-man-artist coded, something he’s spoken a bit about. His Cliff never fully buys into Berlin, even if he says he does. There’s always a level of slight mistrust of his surroundings, even if it’s accompanied by naïveté or love.
Maybe it’s that I have a natural mistrust of Germans2, maybe it’s that I hate clowns, or it’s just because I have media literacy skills, but I’m not sure I ever was tricked into forgetting the context of Cabaret’s story, or feeling complicit. I didn’t gasp when one of the characters was revealed to be a Nazi, like some audience members. Of course he was a Nazi, he was a German man in the 30s! But Cabaret doesn’t stop here, bringing in an absolutely chilling reprise of “Tomorrow Belongs to Me,” to end the first act.
Cabaret’s act 2 is tight, and short and dark. The club lights have been turned on (metaphorically) and you can see all the grime and the dust and the realities of the space. During a brief opening dance, the scantily clad chorus members stop trying to debauch you, the choreography slowly becoming more and more military. Even after a few scenes in his most explicitly clown-like costume yet, Redmayne dons the grays of a soldier and a blond wig.
I knew that this production had reinterpreted Sally’s 11 o’clock number, the titular Cabaret. I mean come on, this is a London transfer!! I’ve watched the video of Amy Lennox sing it like 15 times. But Rankin’s rendition still hit home for me. It was raw, it was messy, and it was miserable, but it told us exactly who Sally was, in the end.
It’s possible that if I could hold this production up to the original, I’d like it less. If I could put Rankin and Emma Stone, or Liza, or Natasha Richardson back to back, Rankin wouldn’t come out on top. But I liked Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club. Because for nearly 4 hours, I was immersed in the Kit Kat Club, in the 6th row, for free, and that, my friends, is beautiful.
Sorry, but I’ll spoil one of my favorite jokes in Oh, Mary for you. Mary Todd Lincoln has been arguing furiously with her new acting tutor (James Scully, credited in the program as “Mary’s Teacher”) about whether or not she’ll allow him to teach her when she suddenly swings dramatically in the other direction. Is she…attracted to him? Are they…flirting with each other?
“My name’s Mary,” She tells him3. He stares deep into her eyes and replies.
“I’m John.” He pauses. “John Wilkes Booth.”
Cue absolute cackles from my seat in the very back row.
This brilliant, madcap, outrageous new play describes itself as a “One act [that] finally examines the forgotten life and dreams of Mrs. Lincoln through the lens of an idiot (Cole Escola).” Most people can’t pull off ‘so-dumb-it’s-brilliant,’ but playwright and star Escola does just that. For as stupid as Oh, Mary is, it’s twice as funny.
Mary wants nothing more than to be a nightclub star, to return to the stage and perform her patented Madcap Medleys for her adoring fans. But NOOO, her awful, probably definitely gay husband, Abraham, says that “not appropriate” because “there’s a war" happening (“what war?”). So she’s trapped at home, drinking, playing tricks on her companion, and talking to the portrait of ‘mother’ on the wall (the painting is of George Washington). It is SO HARD to be first lady!!!
As Mary, Escola is offering a performance that feels equal parts Bernadette Peters, Moira Rose, Scarlett O’Hara, and something entirely new. Mary is deliciously melodramatic, but never becomes unsympathetic: by the end, you really are on her side. Conrad Ricamora’s4 Abe Lincoln is hilarious, tightly-wound, and long-suffering (there’s a war, Mary won’t shut up, and also he compulsively needs sexual favors from his assistant), and to top it all off, he’s also gaslighting his wife. By the end, you might even be rooting for him to get shot (this is not a Chekovian spoiler, it’s literally history).
I’m thrilled this show is going to Broadway for a limited run. But I would like even more for this show to be filmed and turned into an HBO comedy special. While Oh, Mary is technically a play, more than that, it’s 90 minutes of a comedian at the top of their game. I think that the production and Escola know this, because as you enter the theater, you’re surrounded by photos of them in various “productions” (everything from Grease to Night, Mother) with amusing little captions below. The captions are so small they’re a pain to read, but the jokes are so funny that nearly everyone who entered the theater took the time to read them. To quote the caption under a photo of Escola and a puppet in Night, Mother, “That’s the magic of theater.” And while I don’t think Oh, Mary changed my life, it really was a magical, one-of-a-kind theater experience.
We finally come to Lempicka. I am at a loss what to say here. I think this show has some strengths, but for me, it was a letdown. I love Rachel Chavkin’s work (see: Hadestown, The Great Comet, etc.), I love stories about art and artists, and it’s so exciting and so rare to see a musical that centers two women, much less two queer women. And yet I wasn’t satisfied with this.
Starring Eden Espinosa, Lempicka reimagines the life of Art Deco painter, Tamara de Lempicka, during her years living in Paris. Although the musical tracks Lempicka’s rise to prominence as an artist, it primarily explores her relationships with her husband (Andrew Samonsky) and her lover Rafaela (a radiant Amber Iman). The story between Lempicka and Rafaela is far more compelling than Lempicka’s relationship with her husband, a fact that the book writers seem to not be aware of (why the husband gets so many songs is beyond me).
This I could happily overlook, especially since Rafela and the husband (can you tell I didn’t bother to look up his name?) get a very playful duet in act two (Lempicka’s music is generally pleasant). But what made Lempicka so difficult for me was the staging.
Lempicka the character creates big, evocative paintings marked by her use of “plane, lines [and] form.” Lempicka the musical should emulate this, it should be stylish and timeless like Lempicka herself, but it fails. Instead, the stage feels overcrowded — the set emulates the hulking base of the Eiffel Tower, yes, but the pieces are too big. The ensemble is dressed sleekly, but there never really feels like a need to have them onstage (except the club scenes). There are massive screens that drop down that don’t help the story at all. The one large platform that rolls on and off the stage every 3 minutes is perhaps the most distracting offender of all. And while all of this ‘stuff’ does make the final moment when Lempicka’s paintings descend from the rafters striking, it mostly made me wish we had seen more of her art earlier.
If you’re willing to ignore the mess and only buy into the love story between an artist and her muse, I think Lempicka could be lovely, which is why it gets a place in a newsletter that’s ostensibly just about things I like. The show has an audience, and it is deserving of an audience. But maybe it was my subpar view from the balcony, maybe it was the fact that I never fell in love with the music, maybe it was that damn moving platform, but Lempicka never turned me into a fan.
Books: A bunch, but let’s just touch on favorites
Funny Story: Yes :) Naomi is fabulous and did get me a copy of this FOR FREE. Thank you, Naomi! But y’all know the Emily Henry drill - of course I loved this. It’s a little lighter than most of her books, but still thoughtful and charming. I loved the friendship between the characters, and how self-growth was important to them in a way that didn’t feel overdone. I’d say this is probably my 3rd favorite of her books so far (following Book Lovers and Beach Read, ofc).
Good Material: Stories about pathetic men really are in right now, aren’t they? I thought Dolly Alderton’s new book was touching and very readable. Reviews said that it had a certain Nick Hornby-ness to it, and I agree — it’s like if a woman wrote a Nick Hornby protagonist!
Weyward: I don’t think this book was what I expected, as it’s more women’s fiction than historical fiction/magical realism (although it has elements of both). However, I liked it, and most importantly, it got me out of the reading slump caused by….
My Brilliant Friend: It took me 2 months to finish this book. Do with that what you will. Elena Ferrante really did pop off with those last few chapters though.
Art and Gwen are Not in Love: Oh what a treat to read YA for the first time in a little while. This is a fun reimagining of the Camelot love triangle, where everyone is queer.
You’ll be hearing from me very very soon. Like, really soon.
I’m SO behind. Stay tuned for Orlando, Hadestown (!!) and more!
Although I’ve agreed with a lot of reviews this season, they objectively have been crazy and all over the place. Is this because reviewers are sick and tired of attending a different show every night? Is there really nothing good that opened on Broadway this spring (beyond Stereophonic, Mary Jane, and Illinoise, apparently?). Many people on Twitter are mad about critics in general and I think that’s absurd. Please hire me to write a response to them.
Let’s be real, this is probably actually because of the German boy I had a crush on in middle school. It was not reciprocated. I just saw on Instagram that he recently got engaged. Good for him.
I don’t have the script, obviously I’m paraphrasing.
Side note, I love Conrad Ricamora. I’ve loved him since I realized there was a musical theater performer in How To Get Away With Murder. He was good in that, great in Here Lies Love, and an excellent Mr. Darcy in Fire Island.