By Greggory Moore, Contributing Writer
I’m not easily won over by musicals, which certainly didn’t dispose me to love Long Beach Playhouse’s production of Cabaret. On the other hand, I’d never seen any version of this Kander and Ebb classic, which means Long Beach’s longest-running theatre company was not going to have to suffer a comparison with Bob Fosse’s Oscar-winning film adaptation and Liza Minelli’s career-defining performance.
That said, I came away from Cabaret feeling that, although it’s clever, it’s not on par with Kander and Ebb’s other megahit, Chicago; and that, although Long Beach Playhouse does yeoman’s work in staging such a big work in such a small space, ultimately they haven’t assembled the musical talent to really make it sing.
Cliff (Austin James) is a wannabe writer with a yen for more life experience in order to (what else?) write a great novel. So what can such a poor boy do in 1929 ‘cept go to Paris? But he’s been there and done that, and now he’s on his way to Berlin just in time for New Year’s Eve.
On the train he meets Ernst (William Ardelean), who is nothing if not well connected. And before you can say “Heil Hitler!” Cliff has secured a nice room for himself and his Remington.
From there, it’s just a hop, skip and a jump to the seamy, steamy Kit Kat Klub, where he catches the eye of sexy chanteuse Sally Bowles (Courtney Riel Owens), who immediately insinuates herself as Cliff’s roomie. (The plot doesn’t earn this sudden turn of events, but being overly concerned with plot could be considered nitpicking when talking about musicals.)
Cabaret is framed through Cliff’s eyes. But for the show’s exposition of Berlin’s high life to be authentic, it’s gotta have a strong Sally. She’s the emotional center, the dynamo, the epitome of a wonderful party that’s coming to an ignoble end. She wants so badly to be bigger than life, and she almost makes it. Owens does well with that “almost,” always letting Sally’s insecurity and fatigue show from beneath that bon vivant façade.
Where Owens comes up a bit short is on the “bigger than life” score. Even without Minelli’s performance as a reference point, it’s obvious what a huge character Sally is and how clearly she is the play’s pivot point. But Owens isn’t expansive enough for the part, dialing back the role so it’s on par with Cliff and the Kit Kat Klub’s Emcee.
In fact, in this production it’s the Emcee, played by Noah Wagner, who’s at center stage. Wagner is a fearless performer, and he imbues the Emcee with all the wit, charm, and salaciousness needed to glue Cabaret together—no small task, considering that the Emcee’s athletic musical numbers (such as Money and If You Could See Her) stray from the plot to comment on German society.
Generally, though, the musical performances are not this production’s strong suit. There are some highlights: Sally’s Maybe This Time —to my taste, Cabaret’s best bit of songwriting—has the requisite yearning; and Tomorrow Belongs to Me, which starts out as an idyllic ballad but ends as a paean to the coming Third Reich, is absolutely chilling. Too often, though, the singers don’t quite have it. Unfortunately, the band doesn’t help matters, never quite gelling (and during the performance I saw, playing with one particular instrument that had to be out of tune).
Director Sean F. Gray, with an assist from choreographer Halley Hardy, probably does just about all he can within these limitations. He keeps things interesting with fluid blocking (the entire cast gets kudos for smooth execution), and his modal shifts always work. Especially good is everything involving the Nazis, insidiously coming to dominate the show much as they came to dominate Germany, right through to the play’s darker-than-dark finale (a clever, bold, powerful choice by Kander and Ebb).
Speaking of making the most of limitations, the mise en scène deserves special mention. Although Cabaret is a musical of interiors, it was designed for the likes of Broadway (where it debuted in 1966). The Playhouse’s Studio Theatre is so small (98 seats) that during Cabaret’s opening number you can literally feel the line of chorus girls stomping through their can-can kicks. But the combination of Spencer Richardson’s thoughtful set design and Donny Jackson’s pitch-perfect, moment-to-moment lighting is good enough to immerse us not only in the Kit Kat Klub, but also in the Götterdämmerung that was Berlin in 1930.
No-one can say the Long Beach Playhouse peeps don’t have guts — for years now they have been willing to mount productions that outsize their resources. But inherent to that willingness is the risk of overextending themselves. So come to this Cabaret, old chum, and take the good with the bad.
Time: 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday; 2 p.m., Sunday. Runs through Nov.18
Cost: $14 / $24
Details: (562) 494-1014, LBPlayhouse.org
Venue: Long Beach Playhouse, 5021 E. Anaheim St., Long Beach 90804