For more than half a century, “Cabaret” – the iconic American musical set in Nazi Germany – has been produced, revived and revived again. This story, which touches on sex work, abortion and a complex female protagonist in Sally Bowles, has resonated with audiences generation after generation.
But another element of the production lasted almost as long: On Broadway, “Cabaret” was directed exclusively by men. Until now.
The latest revival – “Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club” – just opened at the August Wilson Theater. For the first time in Broadway history, the film is directed by a woman: 38-year-old Rebecca Frecknall. And it takes place amid a historic siege on women’s rights.
As someone who was lucky enough to see the show on opening night, I can attest that in this production – more than any other I’ve seen – the parallels between Sally’s experience and that of today’s young women are uncanny. But based on the reviews of some mainstream critics, you’d think the most political part of the show would be the cherry schnapps handed out when you arrive.
I have seen and enjoyed other productions of “Cabaret”; Sally in particular has long been rightly held in high regard as a symbol for nuanced, authentic women on stage. The role is over called it is not without reason that it is the ‘female hamlet of musical theatre’.
But at Frecknall’s direction, Gayle Rankin powerfully embodies what is unmistakably a Sally of 2024. When she sings the show’s title song (which in this production takes place after the character’s offstage abortion) we see a modern Sally: raw and real; more than likely in emotional and physical pain. She doesn’t sing, dance or exist to please others – including, it must be said, us in the audience. Instead, we see a woman who has chosen herself despite everything. A woman who chose to survive.
There is no shortage of legendary women Have portrayed Sally through the decades. But today I resonate more with this Sally than any before it. And sure enough, in conversations I’ve had with other young women, Rankin’s performance as Sally has made a deep impression on them.
We all share the experience of being forced – or knowing that we could be forced every day – to make those kinds of impossible decisions. We all share a deep gratitude that we have to make this choice for the time being. And carrying around those conflicting feelings, we’re all tired of putting on a pretty face and pretending everything is fine. That’s why this Sally feels like our Sally.
That’s also why I got so confused while reading the critical reactions to this production. Certain reviews have fixated on the technical aspects of Rankin’s performance, complaining of chaotic energy, a lack of polish and a disturbing undertone. It doesn’t matter if that’s the point.
Like any art, musicals can be intensely subjective experiences; it should come as no surprise that some critics couldn’t see themselves in Sally the way I did. And yet: it doesn’t take a female perspective to understand that in the aftermath of Dobbsyoung American women see this story in a new light.
So when a critic ignores the resonance that this authentic, unapologetic Sally has with women of my generation, I wonder: Are we seeing the same show? Are they seeing the same woman? Do we live on the same planet?
This is familiar to women: the implication that our perspectives are not the objective truth. That our pain is not real, or at least not digestible. That our choices should not be intentional – which Frecknall himself has had to experience as male critics wax poetic about what ‘Cabaret’ is actually supposed to be about.
Luckily, not every Broadway powerhouse feels this way. John Kander, who composed ‘Cabaret’, described elements of this production as “stunningly reinvented.” Many younger critics and audiences get it, and have praised Rankin for the same realism that others have railed against. Not to mention the palpable joy in the room when this genderqueer, sexually liberated ensemble takes the stage.
Nevertheless, the response to “Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club” serves as a grim reminder of how much work remains to be done if Broadway truly wants to become the bastion of progressivism that so many of its patrons believe it to be.
That’s why I’ve found it so fulfilling to co-produce other Broadway shows that upend traditional ideas about what theater looks like and who participates in it. Every time a production like “A Strange Loop” or “My Son’s a Queer” comes out, the conventional wisdom of the industry is challenged, and those who have historically been left out of that conventional wisdom are given a space to come together.
Before proposing to Fraulein Schneider, Mr. Schultz tells her, “We’re still alive. And what good is it alone?”
That’s the beauty of this production – and of live theater. It brings us together and it makes us feel alive. By giving us a Sally that felt real — from a director who understands her on the deepest level — “Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club” reminds us that we are different from Sally in one important way: We are not alone.
Meena Harris is a lawyer, author and producer of children’s books. Her co-producing credits on Broadway include ‘Suffs’, ‘A Strange Loop’, ‘Death of a Salesman’, the upcoming Broadway production of ‘My Son’s A Queer’, as well as impact partner with ‘& Juliet.”
