Student Blog: Life is a Cabaret

On November 24th, the incomparable Joel Grey released his guest essay in the New York Times titled “I Starred in ‘Cabaret’. We Need to Heed Its Warning”. The same day, I closed Tallahassee’s very own most recent production of the emblematic show (pictured above thanks to Casey Ray Photography).

I’ve always held Cabaret in high regard – not only for its gorgeous music coined by John Kander and Frank Ebb, but also for its thinly veiled commentary to heed chosen ignorance. Getting the opportunity to perform in such a show during the times we live in has single-handedly cemented itself in my mind as one of the best theatrical experiences I’ve had. And while this student blog won’t be nearly as elegant as Mr. Grey’s opinion piece, it’s an experience I’d still like to document and share. 

The production, which ran from November 22nd to November 24th, was produced and directed by local theatre practitioner Naomi Rose-Mock, whom I’ve been working with for the past six or so years. This show, however, marked the last time I would be working with her before she moves back to England, where she is originally from.  

For those unfamiliar, Cabaret follows the character of Cliff Bradshaw, an American novelist visiting Berlin during 1929 and 1930 to find inspiration for his novel. While in Berlin, he is introduced to the city’s lively club scene, notably the Kit Kat Club and one of its performers, Sally Bowles. As their involvement with one another grows, so does the political tension in Germany. In our production, we view the events of the show as if through the lenses of Cliff’s memory, with the Kit Kat Club serving as a nearly ever-present setting. Our Emcee, brought to life by performers Ty Stone and Noah Ruis, acts as a host to the audience while also acting as a commentator to Cliff’s memories. 

I played the role of Texas, one of the six named Kit Kat Girls that surrounds the Emcee throughout the show. Most of my time on stage was spent executing the Fosse-focused choreography created by Taylor Whittle, another local theatre practitioner I’ve worked with in the past. In addition to this, the Kit Kat Club was present for some scenes, including the engagement party scene and the fight outside of the club. 

Several of my friends from university came to see the show, as well as several of the dance students I teach. What both groups had in common though, was that most of them weren’t familiar with Cabaret beforehand. In fact, a lot of people told me afterwards that they went into the show completely blind. Needless to say, they were surprised. 

After the performances, my friends and students came to congratulate me on the show through their tears. They expressed how moving the show was. How silent the theatre was during the finale. And how our curtain call, which lacked formal bows, was reeling. 

Their reactions reminded me of why I love art and why I’m drawn to it. I’ve always felt that what makes art is its ability to make people feel things. It’s not always about the skill of the artist or the intent behind it – instead I would argue that these qualities are what result in the subjective reception to works of art. Instead, to be art, something must first evoke emotion - whether it makes the receiver overjoyed, disgusted, uncomfortable, or in awe. And while this opinion may change or evolve in the future, this is what I believe to be true now. 

Cabaret is the epitome of that definition. The tricks and skills showcased in “Wilkommen” strike the audience with astonishment and awe. The humor of characters like the Emcee and Sally Bowles brings laughter to the theatre. The romantic duets between Fräulein Schnieder and Herr Schultz make audiences smile and swoon. But as the Act I finale shifts to a sinister tone, the audience is left shocked. They are brought to tears by “I Don’t Care Much”. And as they watch the Emcee remove his coat in the finale, they’re reminded of the horrors that both the characters and they have forgotten. As Sally’s breathing rises in pace with the final drum roll, they sit in an uncomfortable silence, only to be greeted by a blackout. 

In that silence, the audience sits with the stark reality of human history. The Kit Kat Club and its inhabitants are reminders of Weimer-era Germany, where nightlife was vibrant and diverse. Cabaret, in full, is based on the play I Am a Camera, which is based on Goodbye to Berlin, a portion of Chistopher Isherwood’s The Berlin Stories – a novel that explores characters and stories based on Isherwood’s own experiences in Berlin. 

While I don’t intend for this blog to be deemed “political”, I would be remiss to ignore Cabaret’s relevance to today. The day following the election in the United States, we had rehearsals. Immediately following the results, a lot of us were worried and a lot of us were scared. A lot of us still are. Especially living in a state such as Florida, where censorship in education and the arts is on the rise. 

For the first fifteen minutes of that rehearsal, we sat as a cast and just talked. We talked about our initial feelings, our thoughts for the future, and our thoughts about our show. It wasn’t a moment where we focused on telling the stories of others but instead talked to each other as people with our own stories.  

Cabaret is a warning to the observers. To those who watch as things happen and do nothing about it. It is a message to those like Sally Bowles who’ll say “...politics? But what does that have to do with us?” Like Chistopher Isherwood’s famous quote, “I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking”, Cabaret is a reminder to not just standby.  

I think that we were able to deliver that message. We were able to tell that message through an incredibly emotional show, one that passed those emotions onto its audience. 

All of this was made possible, not only by the show itself, but by the people I shared this production with. By the wonderful musical direction of Scott Leaman, by the artful costumer Colleen Towey, by the unforgettable performances by Jessica Cavanagh and John Campana (Schneider and Schultz, respectively), and so much more. I am so grateful to have been a part of such a production, and I will cherish it forever. 

I’ll leave you with a quote from the script that I consider to be one of the most notable. 

OFFICIAL You did not find our country beautiful? 

CLIFF (tonelessly) Yes. I found it... beautiful.