Cabaret

Back in June, I was lucky enough to see a fantastic production of Cabaret (the matinee performance right before I saw If/Then a second time) done by the Roundabout Theater Company. I cannot say enough how much I loved not only the performance, but the entire experience of dealing with the Roundabout Theater Company. I only wish I had paid more to sit at one of the tables, to have an even more complete experience. To explain a bit: after purchasing the tickets, I received a pre-show informational email that explained some background stuff about the history of the production, the cast, the theater, the company, etc. They didn't give us programs when we entered the theater, which was a bit of a surprise. Instead, the theater (Studio 54) had been converted into a cabaret of sorts where over half the audience sat at tables, was able to order a meal, and was in a perfect position to be called upon for a few moments of audience participation. Rather than read the program we didn't have, my friend Heather and I looked around. Aside from the beautiful interior of the theater, the stage was totally open: no curtain. Musicians and actors wandered around aimlessly, either warming up or stretching or talking with audience members. Already, the show had begun before it had officially begun.

The first number (the famous "Willkommen") was energetic, raunchy, and extremely charged with a libertine vibe. Here is an abridged version that they performed at the Tony Awards the next day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ua0U7m9rNc Alan Cumming was marvelous from start to finish—a seeming embodiment of sin and sex, omnipresent, continually watching and using the artifice of the cabaret and its numbers to critique the pre-WWII Berlin outside. The rest of the cast (notably Michelle Williams as Sally Bowles) surrounded him admirably, portraying a cast of profoundly human characters who blindly carry on as though nothing horrific were happen, was energetic, multitalented (several alternate between singing, dancing, and playing instruments), and told this haunting tale in the most visually stunning way possible. Yet, never did the production take itself too seriously, for which I was very glad. As we used to say in creative writing seminars: the hotter the topic, the cooler the prose.

In fact, it is precisely that aspect of Cabaret that I find most unforgettable. This musical thematizes indifference, making it totally and utterly unique as far as I can tell. The second song consists of Frau Schneider compromising on every misfortune that has ever befallen her ("So What") and Sally's reaction to losing her job ("Mein Herr") is equally ambivalent. The first act follows these two love stories—the main tale of Cliff and Sally and the much more endearing tale of Frau Schneider and Herr Schultz—with all the conventions of Broadway theater. But Act II allows indifference to triumph: when Frau Schneider breaks off her engagement with Herr Schultz purely because he is a Jew, she implores the equally passive Cliff (who is about to leave Berlin himself) what he would do ("What Would You Do"). In his omnipresence, the Master of Ceremonies sings his retort ("I Don't Care Much"), a last-minute foreshadowing of the failure of the Cliff/Sally plot. The finale, which reprises the opening number by asking the audience "Where are your troubles now? Forgotten? See, I told you so!" is for all of the indifference, much more tragic than it otherwise might be.

Cabaret is brilliant in that it portrays that dangerous moment when indifference becomes a political act, when cowardice becomes culpability—that fine line where innocence disappears behind collaboration, however passive it may be. While it can sometimes seem impossible to discuss an event such as the Holocaust in a productive way, I feel that Cabaret is an unlikely success story, manipulating the much lighter Broadway musical genre into a profound statement about this atrocious event in our recent history. By portraying the pre-war Berlin in all its contradictory glory (it was, after all, at once a cultural hub, far more socially progressive than other cities at the time, but bore witness to the warning signs of a crime against humanity), it succeeds in making the audience feel, making everyone more conscious of the dangers of indifference. And that effect lasts after the show has ended.

A Q&A followed the performance of the Roundabout Theater Company in which several actors responded to audience reactions. They discussed the history of the production (from the memoirs of Christopher Isherwood entitled "The Berlin Stories" to the 1951 play I Am a Camera, to the original 1966 Broadway production of this Kander and Ebb musical, to its 1972 movie adaptation with Liza Minnelli as Sally and Joel Grey reprising his role as the MC, to the current production which was really just a revival of yet another revival), how it feels to be Jewish and act in such a production, and most importantly, the ending. This production ends with a horrific portrayal of a gas chamber, and before the MC bows, he removes his coat to reveal a uniform of a concentration camp prisoner. Of everything in the production, this point seems to have shocked the audience the most. For me, it seemed slightly heavy handed, but I did appreciate how it continued the contradictory nature of the show. You see, this man who seemed omniscient and omnipresent, who saw everything and recreated it—in short, who was always in complete control—was transformed in the finale into yet another victim. Such an abrupt reversal almost highlights his role as an actor, playing on a stage without any chance to escape.

To wrap this entry up, Cabaret can be difficult to watch. At every moment, it tries to shock and stun, embarrass, and upset. If it doesn't deter those who are unlikely to appreciate the decadent nature of the Cabaret, the sexually charged numbers, and the libertine Sally Bowles, it ultimately catches everyone with the sharp critique of Nazi Germany. Fortunately for current audiences, the Roundabout Theater Company does an excellent job situating such a spectacle and allowing it to be informative as well as entertaining. I would highly recommend it.

Aladdin

Before leaving the Princeton/NYC area, I just had to see the new Disney musical. I had a pretty silly reason: I didn't care much about seeing recent Tony-winner James Monroe Iglehart (who plays the Genie), nor did I feel that my life wouldn't be complete without the apparently jaw-dropping flying carpet scene. Actually, I mostly just wanted to hear the actual voice of Jafar from the movie (Jonathan Freeman) coming out of the mouth of a living human being. To begin, he did NOT disappoint. The musical, on the other hand...

Let me be brief (because not only should no one spend money on this show, but no one should have to waste their time reading about it either), Aladdin is an overblown, expensive, not anywhere near as endearing copy of the original. To be clear, I generally consider Aladdin one of the greatest movies that Disney has ever made. It's well-paced, cultural (loosely based on the 1001 Arabian Nights), Robin Williams is a genius in his role as the Genie, and the music is lovely. It's the kind of movie one can enjoy as a child then rediscover as an adult. In other words, exactly what current Disney movies seem to lack. This musical version, however, is a deflated version of the original, to say the least.

First off, the additional music is uninspired, forgettable, and ultimately a waste of time. And while the first few scenes seem to promise the same jubilance as the movie, the show slows down as it progresses. Next, it is poorly paced (the two biggest scenes are in the middle of both acts, breaking up the action for the overzealous applause), and becomes more and more saccharine as you reach the end. Beyond general criticisms, the writers have decided to take Jasmine's stubbornness and independence from the film and transform it into unbridled feminism, which, when acted out on stage, sounds stilted and absurd. It is a fairy tale, of course, so even the most unbelievable plot events could happen. But, one is much more accepting of a cartoon movie with a childish outlook on reality than of a stage musical with big sets and an even bigger price tag. They have also removed the more cultural aspects—the shiny, sparkling set and largely Jewish/African American/Hispanic cast sing and dance in a thoroughly American way. America, let us remember, is a hodgepodge, and in this case, the traditionally Broadway style which has already been largely replaced today (you know what it looks like—lots of tap dancing, huge sets that are mostly backdrop, lots of sequins and lights), seems more like the absence of culture. I suppose people might be hesitant to produce a musical that glorifies Arab culture in America today—and I certainly don't mean to say that the original movie represents that culture in an authentic way—but ignoring the tradition that this movie calls upon causes the musical to lose everything.

Like I said, I want to be brief. All I want to say is that Disney is going to need to look back at its one truly successful musical in order to learn how to write new ones. The reason that The Lion King is still going strong is that it is a work of art—largely distinct from the original movie. The songs that were added are often equal to the originals, if not better; the set and costume design are nothing short of brilliant and succeed in transforming a lovely animated film into an equally appealing stage production; finally, the cultural aspects (from the language to the masks) make the show appear distinct and original among countless other Broadway productions that all tend to look alike. Aladdin does none of this, but that's not the worst part. The worst is that I spent $150 and went to see it on a Wednesday night while I was still jetlagged. Forcing myself to stay awake to get my money's worth was difficult. I don't think I have ever been more disappointed by a musical.

The curtain at intermission. Not particularly impressive for a multi-million dollar show that will probably close within the year...

If/Then

To begin this post about the new musical, If/Then, I have to say this: as with most of the shows I write about on this blog, I am biased. Generally, that bias comes from various preconceptions about the shows, their writers, the actors, etc. In this case, the bias comes from lead actress, Idina Menzel, whose voice I have held in my memory since I was six years old and first heard the Rent soundtrack. The reason I saw the show was for her, despite the lackluster reviews of its test run in Washington DC. While writers Brian Yorkey (book, lyrics) and Tom Kitt (score) and director Michael Greif (whose names have been affiliated with such hits as Next to Normal and Rent) helped convince me that I was right in giving this show a chance, I should admit to anyone who reads this that I went not once—but twice—for the thrill of seeing one of my favorite singers perform live on a Broadway stage.

Understanding that, I have decided not to "review" the show, so to speak. I don't want to attest to how well or poorly it functions as a musical, since no one would (or really should) believe me on that subject anyway. Instead, I'm going to do what I do best: analyze the story and treat it in an academic way. It is essentially my job to comment on current literary production, including of course contemporary theater. While my research focuses on French literature, I still feel perfectly competent to assess the book of a Broadway musical (considering my commitment to musicals), and in fact, I feel obligated to comment on this particular one, considering it was written by a Pulitzer Prize-winning team. So, to quote the show: Here I go.

If/Then chronicles two independent trajectories of one woman's life after a seemingly innocuous decision in Madison Park to spend time with one friend or another. This woman is Elizabeth (Idina Menzel) and the friends are: her lesbian neighbor, Kate (LaChanze) and her bisexual best friend from college, Lucas (Anthony Rapp). Let us sidestep the obvious cultural bombs they have opened the story with for the time being—feminism (a woman and her potential, the myriad of outcomes her life could have resulting from one small choice), homosexuality (not only is this straight woman closest to friends who do not conform to any gender norm, but their homosexuality is present without being commented upon, a recent Broadway trend that attempts to subvert expectations). Rather, let us just look at how the writers chose to deal with their choses initial situation.

Elizabeth therefore splits into Liz (who wears glasses and whose story is backdropped by a blue light) and Beth (no glasses, but red light). Lighting, by the way, was designed by Kenneth Posner. Liz immediately meets Josh (James Snyder), and begins a romance fit for a Broadway stage—meeting, fast-paced dialogue, marriage, babies, death of spouse (did I forget to mention that there would be spoilers? I'm sorry—don't read on if you have not yet seen the show and/or think the plot is too complicated to unravel yourself); Beth, on the other hand, is given the opportunity to be a city planner, a career choice that propels her into professional stardom but leaving her love life a desert of missed opportunity. Once again, let's ignore the feminism issues that arise from such a plot. I'll get to that later. The musical alternates between these two lives, focusing on major moments in both all of which seem very skewed towards the lovable Liz rather than the serious Beth. How quickly one forgets that these individuals are the same person, the very endearing Menzel, who does her best to make sense of a fragmented and trite narrative. Note that I do not say confusing: while that might be a common criticism, I find the alternation between Liz and Beth cute and engaging, a bit ridiculous at times, but certainly never confusing. The writers were careful enough to avoid confounding the two, and stuck almost religiously to a first Liz, then Beth order (with the small exceptions of a few songs, which alternated somewhat freely between the two—"What the f***" and "You Learn to Live Without").

Continuing on, let me list these pivotal moments:

Act I:
1) Liz meets Josh but initially rejects him/Beth gets a phone call from Stephen (Jerry Dixon) offering her her dream job as a city planner. [Song: Prologue/What if?]
2) Liz sees Josh again in a stopped subway car and is encouraged by Kate/Beth attends Lucas' protest, stopping a subway car. The next day, she becomes the head of the development project that Lucas is protesting. [Song: It's a Sign]
3) Liz sees Josh a third time in the park and finally agrees to go out with him (she has also begun work as an urban planning professor)/Beth begins work as a city planner which she finds extremely fulfilling [Song: A map of New York]
4) Liz begins dating Josh, who introduces Lucas to his best friend David (Jason Tam)/Beth convinces Lucas to abandon his protests by securing him a publishing deal [Songs: You Never Know,Ain't No Man Manhattan]
5) Liz sleeps with Josh/Beth attempts to sleep with Stephen (who refuses because he is married), a disappointment which results in her inviting Lucas over that very night [Songs: What the F***, Here I Go, You Don't Need to Love Me]
6) Liz finds out she's pregnant, and tells Josh who proposes/Beth finds out she is pregnant, but does not tell Lucas so she can continue to pursue new career opportunities [Songs: No More Wasted Time, Surprise]

Act II (this act seems to reverse the order of storytelling to Beth, then Liz):
1) Beth walks by a wedding alone and has an abortion without telling Lucas/Liz marries Josh and has a son [Songs: This Day/Walking by a Wedding, Hey, Kid]
2) Beth attempts to reconnect with Lucas, who feels that Beth was his last chance at love/Lucas and David admit that they love each other [Songs: Some Other Me, Best Worst Mistake]
3) Beth continues to excel at her career but feels incomplete as a coworker has a baby and leaves the company to move with her husband/Liz struggles to accept that Josh is called into active duty overseas and then is killed. [Songs: I Hate You, A Map of New York (reprise), You Learn to Live Without]
4) Beth has a near-death experience in a plane on a work trip and convinces Kate and Anne (Jen Colella) not to divorce/Liz is too overcome with grief to notice Kate's and Anne's marital troubles [Songs: The Moment Explodes, Love While You Can]

(I'm putting these next two songs separately since at this point, the show becomes very Liz-oriented)
5) Josh's body is returned to US soil and Liz, Kate, Anne, Lucas, and David attend the funeral. While Liz is still hurt and angry that Josh left at all, David suggests that it was better to have loved him and lost him, than never to have known him at all. [Song: What Would You Do?]
6) Liz repeats the lines with which she seems to have begun the musical, talking to Josh (who we now know is dead), explaining that on the plane, she had wondered what her life would be like if she had never met him. She then comes to the conclusion that she did not regret her life with him, but will have to start her life again. [Song: Always Starting Over]

Finale:
In the park, Liz (who is upset at the fact that, had she not postponed Josh's army tour due to the birth of their second son) sees Stephen and his wife, who offer her a job as a city planner/In the same park at the same time, Beth is meeting Kate and Lucas when Josh (back from his tour) invites her for coffee [Song: What if? (reprise)]

To avoid making this post a hundred pages long, I will just focus on numbers 5 and 6 in Act II. When Liz speaks those lines that open the show, it appears for a brief moment that the parallel lives act was a ruse. Nothing more than clever misdirection on the part of the playwrights. Rather than sell theatergoers the same trite love story they have seen time and time again, the writers decided to distract them with these alternating stories, neither of which seem particularly original. As I said, while the Liz love-story is cliché, the Beth story is perhaps even more so. The first two hours of the show seem to contradict the feminist ideals that they seem to tout—while one woman's life holds the potential for both love and career, in practice, Elizabeth can only accomplish one or the other. But then, the glorious Tony-stopping song "Always Starting Over" begins. With her opening monologue, Liz says: "On that plane today, I thought about what my life would be like if I had never met you. And in that instant, I imagined our whole life together...and what if I had been in that park a day later, or an hour later? Or what if I had gone with Lucas or I hadn't stopped to listen to that guy playing guitar?" This is a standard literary technique: beginning with the ending, and then upon reaching that starting point, the audience understands how emotionally charged such a beginning actually was. In this particular instance, sitting in that theater, I believed it was something even more: that since the musical opens on this exact line (even before splitting Elizabeth into Liz and Beth), the world of parallel lives was actually a lie: there was one life, Liz, and the hypothetical scenario of Beth. That is what Liz had been imagining on the plane, and that is why Beth's story seemed so unpleasant and off-putting. As a widow morning her husband's early death, of course she is inclined to favor her actual love story, and is using this hypothetical imagining of what her life might have been to justify that one cliché that we hear all the time: it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And indeed, such creative musings fit well with the character as she was presented to us at the outset—she is constantly making a big deal out of little choices she has to make, she thinks about every possibility, and she is hesitant to make even the smallest decisions given the huge impact they can have on her life. In fact, in that moment, If/Then actually seems quite brilliant! The beautiful minimalist set (Mark Wendland) and excellent lighting portray Ms. Menzel as alone in her own galaxy, her show-stopping number and position at center stage reflected in a slanted mirror, emphasizing how her consciousness has been laid bare before us, and is ultimately an illusion.

Yes, that is what I thought was happening. Unfortunately, I was wrong. These writers refused to let Ms. Menzel end the show on such a powerful note. Rather, the story continues, parallel lives and all. And the story wraps up so succinctly that it makes one wonder if it was written by the same writers. Yorkey took such care in each story to underline the small changes, the sloppy nature of life in which one small decision can have a myriad of repercussions. In Beth's scenario, Lucas never finds love; in Liz's, Kate and Anne get divorced while Lucas and David adopt a son. The perfect ending seems to negate such details, saying that in the end, that one choice at the beginning wasn't really that important after all. In fact, Elizabeth can have it all either way: she just needs to be patient and good things will fall into her lap regardless of her choices. So perhaps yes, the musical was unnecessarily complicated, but perhaps this complication results more from the disconnect between the beginning and the ending. What seems to be a perfect circle (both scenes take place in the same park, have the same cast of characters, the same guitar player, and the same song) is actually one whose existence throws into question the entire premise. And while in the moment, throwing Beth a happy ending seems satisfying, the greater implications of this choice unravel the fabric of the entire show.

So, to wrap things up. I saw If/Then twice, and was extremely disappointed by the ending the first time around. The second time, since I was aware of it in advance, I was able to bring a more critical eye to the entire production: the cast is very energetic, the set design and lighting are beautiful, the songs are cute (but ultimately not very memorable), the lyrics are often vague and cliché (almost every song, as Ben Brantley noted, is interchangeable with lyrics about fate), but the story is (until the end) engaging. Ultimately, while I came both times for Idina Menzel (and don't regret it—her performance should not be missed, and since she did not win the Tony for this role, she might leave a little sooner than expected, a cast change that will most certainly result in the death of the musical), If/Then still might just be the most innovative and exciting American musical to open in the past few years. And as disappointing as that may be, the real problem is that other new shows, mostly spinoffs of mediocre movies with very little original music, seem to be what is rewarded on Broadway right now. While If/Then was not perfect, as one of the only original musicals of the season, I do believe it was unjustly ignored by the Tony Awards this year. In any case, I can see it becoming a cult classic somewhere along the line.

Also, here are a few pictures of the cast at the stage door, the night before the Tony's.