If you put down your knitting, your book—and yes—your broom and make your way to New York’s August Wilson Theatre right now (and likely for some years to come) you will find that it has been transformed into the Kit Kat Club for the latest revival (its fifth on Broadway) of composer John Kander and lyricist Fred Ebb’s much-loved Cabaret. The musical, with a book by Joe Masteroff, based on the play by John Van Druten and stories by Christopher Isherwood, made its Broadway debut in November 1966 featuring Joel Gray, who went on to reprise his role as the emcee in Bob Fosse’s Oscar-winning film adaptation starring Liza Minnelli and Michael York.
In this production directed by Rebecca Frecknall—which received nine Tony Award nominations, including Best Musical Revival—the emcee is portrayed by Eddie Redmayne, who is also a producer. Having won the Olivier for Best Actor in a Musical for the production’s original London incarnation (which is still running, and took seven Olivier Awards including Best Musical Revival), Redmayne is now Tony-nominated for the same role on Broadway. It is easy to see why. His performance is captivating, with an unsettling, otherworldly quality to it and exquisite physicality as he morphs into various incarnations of narrator as Berlin’s political mood shifts. Redmayne impresses throughout as his emcee breezily switches from enchanting to intimidating to chilling. Standout numbers like “Money” dazzle, while the haunting “Tomorrow Belongs To Me” gave me goosebumps.
Before we receive a “willkommen, bienvenue, welcome” from the emcee though, when we first arrive at the August Wilson we are ushered from the bustling sidewalks of West 52nd Street down an alleyway, past a row of garbage bags, in a delightfully disorientating journey into the building. Each of the theatre’s bars has been beautifully decorated to immerse us into Jazz Age Berlin. Patrons are offered a shot of schnapps as they enter, and there some delicious themed beverages (along with German-style pretzels and Toblerone bars) on sale from the welcoming, dapper bar staff who add to the buoyant ambience.
While sipping on cocktails, we are invited to explore the different spaces on each level as we take in the seductive “prologue” directed by Jordan Fein with an original score by Angus MacRae. Both the dancers (including Will Ervin Jr., Alaïa, Iron Bryan, Deja McNair, and Sun Kim) and the musicians (Brian Russell Carey, Francesca Dawis, Keiji Ishiguri, Maeve Stier, and Michael Winograd) playfully acknowledge our presence and get pretty up close and personal. A decadent, rather steamy vibe is created and Julia Cheng’s choreography incorporates some enticingly flowing, beckoning movements which are far looser than the more angular and jagged motion on display in the show itself. Once the show begins, Cheng’s choreography is at its most thrilling in the group numbers as the dance ensemble becomes alluringly enmeshed, delivering the most ostensibly queer element of this production with the fluidity of sexuality and gender celebrated in the twists and turns of the mass of bodies.
There is no narrative to follow as we are led away from whatever might have been preoccupying us in our own lives in 2024 and are gradually drawn into the world of the Kit Kat Club, and in turn, to be distracted from the looming Nazi threat that will put an end to such liberal and jovial times. Utterly transporting, I quickly felt a world away from the streets of Manhattan. It helps that patrons are asked not to take photos or videos, so there aren’t any modern devices on view. The prologue element proved to be one the highlights of the evening, in fact, I could have happily spent the entire time in this environment, but of course there is a show to see, and darker events brewing.
When it comes to the auditorium, Tom Scutt’s outstanding design sees the stage reconfigured into an in-the-round formation, with the audience members closest to the stage sitting at nightclub-style tables, complete with telephones (and pre-show dinner service), contributing the intimate and immersive vision established by the prologue. The playing space is tight, sharpening the audience’s focus on the performers, as Isabella Byrd’s lighting design creates a moody tone. With minimal set and props, Scutt’s costumes vividly evoke the era and form part of the storytelling.
If you’re only familiar with Cabaret from the film version, you will find the stage show has marked differences in the narrative. For instance, in the stage version English cabaret performer, “the toast of Mayfair”, Sally Bowles (Gayle Rankin) loses her job at the Kit Kat club almost immediately and with nowhere else to go moves in with American writer Cliff Bradshaw (Ato Blankson-Wood, Slave Play) at Fraulein Schneider’s (Bebe Neuwirth) boarding house.
Rankin is an explosion of energy as Bowles, bringing a raw, manic intensity to her solo numbers, especially “Cabaret”, that make it feel as if the character is confronting her demons and experiencing a meltdown in realtime. Although her performance is a spellbinding and compelling one, there is also something distancing in the abrasiveness of her characterization that I admired rather than felt moved by. Blankson-Wood adeptly portrays the observant writer adrift in Berlin, a man yet to truly discover himself, but I felt little connection or chemistry between Cliff and Sally and could not see what had drawn these two together aside from circumstance. As things between the pair deteriorate their dialogue becomes off-puttingly shouted.
The emotional core of the production is the relationship between Fraulein Schneider and her fruit-selling longterm boarder Herr Schultz (Steven Skybell), as they heartwarmingly duet on “It Couldn’t Please Me More” and “Married” as the romance delicately builds between them. While Neuwirth brings stinging poignancy to the rumination on inevitability that is “So What”. While Natascia Diaz makes the most of every moment as Fraulein Kost, who humorously attempts to cover up the fact that her male guests are paying clients, by claiming to have an endless string of nephews.
A palpable sense of dread hovers over this Cabaret from its first notes and lingers throughout, but there is much about this production to delight in as well as to be suitably unnerved by, particularly as its cautionary themes chime with our current times of war and fragile democracy.
By James Kleinmann
Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club officially opened on Sunday, April 21st and is now running at the August Wilson Theatre. Tickets are on sale now at kitkat.club.
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