Review: National Tour of CABARET Creates Melancomedy

There was a National Tour of CABARET, and there was a theatre called the Benedum Center in a city called Pittsburgh.

In this Roundabout Theatre Company production, resembling the 2014 Broadway revival starring Alan Cumming and Michelle Williams, the stage is metaphorically and literally a frame story, bordered and illuminated by lights with a superposed picture frame hung in the center. But this picture frame, seemingly beautiful along the boarders, hangs crooked to perfectly accent the actors' and show's message.

CABARET is a binary story with many contradictions. It follows Cliff Bradshaw (Lee Aaron Rosen), a starving American novelist who moves to Berlin in the hopes of finding inspiration for his next novel. He finds that inspiration in the sultry singer Sally Bowles (Andrea Goss), a bodacious Brit with a bubbling personality resembling that of a nervous schoolgirl. From there, the action juxtaposes mainly between the illustrious Kit Kat Klub, where Sally performs, and the boardinghouse of Fräulein Schneider (Shannon Cochran).

Randy Harrison, in his first US tour, leads this production as the Master of Ceremonies. It is his job to bridge the gap between the action on stage and the audience-he even dances with audience members at times to make them feel like they are a part of the show. He must undoubtedly be compared to Cumming, who has played the Emcee hundreds of times over the last two decades. Harrison does justice to not only Cumming but also the role as a whole with his inviting personality and commanding, comical stage presence.

At the nightclub, Harrison invites audiences to leave their trouble at home, and for much of the first act, that is exactly what happens. Sharply executed routines, coupled with distractingly beautiful songs, transport the audience to the world of theatre.

The second act, however, contrasts the first act in many ways. Characters develop in new and interesting ways, as the Nazi rise to power becomes less and less of a subtle theme.

For Cochran, a disparity is apparent when her character looses her temper at Cliff and Sally, so abruptly that it catches everyone in the theatre off guard and brings the audience outside of the action for the first time since intermission. This sudden shift does not align with her earlier demeanor and is questionable at the least. Although the minimal progression to this action blemishes her overall character, Cochran's vocal performance fits the character better than any before her.

Cochran's counterpart and lover Herr Schultz (Mark Nelson) cannot go unnoticed either. Nelson compliments and balances Cochran over the course of the show in numbers like "Married" and "It Couldn't Please Me More."

Holding her own, Goss displays a character of unbridled ignorance and play, much the mindset of the Roaring 20s in America. But this was no longer the 1920s, and this was far from America. Her vocally strong performance allowed her to become the character of Sally, but in the number "Don't Tell Mama," Goss is seated in an oversized chair that dwarfs her.

This was one of the show's largest problems. In the 2,800-seat Benedum Center, CABARET struggled to connect with all members of the audience. The platform stage, which also held the orchestra, was a very smart move to incorporate the band directly into the nightclub and to link the audience to the show, but this vertical approach could not provide the intimacy needed for and wanted by the majority of audience members.

Still, the acting, singing and dancing made the show approachable. While the audience sits back and relaxes, they are preoccupied by the glitz and glamor to be cognizant of the actual setting of the show. Sure, the Nazis are rising to power; sure anti-Semitic hate crimes are occurring; but in the cabaret, what troubles are there?

The answer is none. These performers have done their duty by the end of the show; only then, when the Emcee breaks the fourth wall for the final time, does the audience come back into reality. The platform stage is bare for only a moment, and contradictions between sanguine and melancholy pervade the shared space.

There was a cabaret at a theatre called the Benedum Center in a city called Pittsburgh. And it was, beautiful.

Photo Credit: Roundabout Theatre Company

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