Kristin Doty plays British chanteuse Sally Bowles in Metropolis Performing Arts Centre’s revival of “Cabaret.”
“Cabaret” — ★ ★ ★ ½
“Cabaret” has no shortage of memorable tunes.
From the Emcee bidding the audience “Willkommen” in the deliciously naughty opening number to the feverishly satirical “Money,” the torchy “Maybe This Time” and the disingenuously buoyant titular number, John Kander and Fred Ebb’s score pleases the ear and stimulates the brain.
And the cast of Metropolis Performing Arts Centre’s revival does the music justice. The young singers/dancers who make up the well-rehearsed chorus are among the best I’ve seen on the Arlington Heights stage. The principals are equally adept in director Robbie Simpson’s solidly acted production, whose Saturday performance was hindered by a few musical glitches from music director Jake Hartge’s seven-member orchestra, likely attributed to opening-night jitters.
The Emcee (Maria Alexandra), center, and the Kit Kat Klub girls and boys welcome audiences to “Cabaret,” running through Oct. 22 at the Metropolis Performing Arts Centre. – Courtesy of Jennifer Heim
For the record, Metropolis’ production is the 1998 version of the oft-revised 1966 musical, whose book is by Joe Masteroff based on John Van Druten’s play “I Am a Camera,” which was inspired by Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin stories.
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The time is 1929. The setting is Berlin, where Clifford Bradshaw (fine work from Tim Foszcz), a sexually ambivalent, aspiring novelist from America has come seeking inspiration. At the advice of Ernest Ludwig (Daniel Leahy, ideal as affable evil personified), a genial German acquaintance, Cliff visits the Kit Kat Klub.
A den of decadence presided over by the enigmatic Emcee (a nicely inscrutable Maria Alexandra), the club’s entertainers possess the kind of hard-bitten insouciance that’s born of low expectations and perpetuated by disappointment, an attitude reflected in Jenilee Houghton’s wonderfully impertinent, burlesque-inspired choreography.
Hoping to find inspiration in Berlin, aspiring novelist Clifford Bradshaw (Tim Foszcz) settles into Fraulein Schneider’s (Rosalind Hurwitz) boardinghouse in John Kander and Fred Ebb’s “Cabaret,” running through Oct. 22 at the Metropolis Performing Arts Centre in Arlington Heights. – Courtesy of Jennifer Heim
Headlining this second-tier nightspot is Sally Bowles (Kristin Doty), a British chanteuse unlucky in love. Sally picks Cliff out of the crowd and quickly inserts herself into his life, first as a roommate and soon after as his lover.
The musical chronicles their affair, as well as the romance between Cliff’s landlady, Fraulein Schneider (Rosalind Hurwitz) and Herr Schultz (Anthony Whitaker), a Jewish fruit vendor who also rents a room from Fraulein Schneider, whose boarders also include Fraulein Kost (Melissa Crabtree), a prostitute who’s finely honed survival instinct is evidenced in her agitated reprise of “Tomorrow Belongs to Me,” the chilling first act finale that foreshadows the rising fascism that threatens them all.
Ultimately, it’s politics — which most of the characters save Cliff either disregard or misconstrue — that undo these relationships and doom the participants. By the end of the show, the fates of these characters are apparent, except for one, whose choice Simpson makes frighteningly clear in the show’s final moments.
“Don’t Tell Mama,” cautions Sally Bowles (Kristin Doty), center, and the Kit Kat Club Dancers in Metropolis Performing Arts Centre’s revival of “Cabaret.” – Courtesy of Jennifer Heim
Back to those memorable tunes. Doty, a picture of beguiling bravado, is terrific as a clear-eyed woman determined to move on after the happy ending she half-hoped-for evaporates. Doty’s impassioned, near showstopping performance of “Cabaret” reflects the forced cheeriness of a woman determined to convince herself the party’s not over.
Equally impressive is Hurwitz’s emotional, authentic performance as Fraulein Schneider, the obedient German who sacrifices love for security. Her second act ballad “What Would You Do?” is a magnificent expression of weariness and resignation from a woman who — having searched her soul — chooses pragmatism over happiness. Hurwitz’s performance packs an emotional wallop, as does Alexandra’s “I Don’t Care Much,” a haunting expression of indifference, an indifference these characters maintain at their peril. They’re doomed; their fate sealed by religion, sexual preference, gender identity or occupation. And neither complacence nor complicity can guarantee their survival, not when it comes to an authoritarian regime. That’s a message worth remembering.
