The touring production now at the Paramount in Seattle reels you in with its classic mix of jaunty numbers at the Weimar-era Kit Kat Klub and foreshadowing of the terror to come.

There arent many moments in musical theater that stick in your craw like the rug-pulling finish of If You Could See Her from Cabaret, in which a playful tune about a romance with a gorilla turns suddenly poisonous.

The John Kander and Fred Ebb musical, with a book by Joe Masteroff that traces back to a Christopher Isherwood novel, has the ability like no other to follow a shot of razzle-dazzle with a deeply discomfiting chaser.

The latest national tour, now on stage at the Paramount, is proof enough. At a recent performance, laughs and applause had a way of dissolving into uneasy quiet as the shows depictions of fascism and hate revealed themselves, smuggled in discreetly under cover of hedonistic decadence.

by John Kander, Fred Ebb and Joe Masteroff. Through June 25, Paramount Theatre, Seattle; tickets from $30 (800-745-3000 or stgpresents.org).

This production by Roundabout Theatre Company (last seen in Seattle with an effervescent tour of Anything Goes at the 5th in 2013) brings to the stage Sam Mendes and Rob Marshalls 2014 Broadway revival, a re-creation of their 1998 Broadway revival, which was, in turn, based on Mendes 1993 London production.

So yeah, this Cabaret has been around.

Why shouldnt it stick around? Its got the goods, reeling you in from the first strains of Willkommen, set inside the never-ending party of the Kit Kat Klub in Weimar-era Berlin. Were welcomed by the Emcee (Jon Peterson), whose leering naughtiness is matched by the dancers around him. (Peterson keeps upping the ante, going right up to the edge of too self-aware of his giggly kinkiness.)

This is the kind of place where sexual adventures of all kinds can help shut out the horrors of the surrounding world until, of course, they cant anymore.

Its also the meeting place for Sally Bowles (Leigh Ann Larkin, whose tremendous voice covers for some over-emoted line readings) and Cliff Bradshaw (Benjamin Eakeley, appropriately Boy-Scout-stiff).

Shes an unsuccessful British singer and hes an unsuccessful American novelist, and together, they engage in a bit of amour fou while the world still allows them to. (Cliff is portrayed differently in different stagings; here, he seems to be openly, if a bit reluctantly, bisexual.)

Also playing out: A more sensible but similarly fated romance between Cliffs landlady, Frulein Schneider (Mary Gordon Murray) and Jewish fruit dealer Herr Schultz (Scott Robertson).

Like most revivals of Cabaret, this one has a score that cuts some original numbers and incorporates some from Bob Fosses stellar film adaptation. Good thing Larkins raucous Mein Herr and plaintive Maybe This Time are standouts.

Even in scenes outside the nightclub, Mendes and Marshall ensure its presence is felt, with Petersons ever-watchful Emcee eyeing the proceedings, often perched atop an upper level that houses the band (many doing double duty as members of the ensemble).

The encroaching threat of Nazism is communicated overtly in Masteroffs book and in Marshalls choreography, like when a chorus kick line seamlessly transitions into a goose step.

But even more potent is the sudden awareness that those previously jaunty club numbers have been drained of any sense of carefree fun, with lighting and costume shifts to match.

By the time Sally reaches the shows titular song, the lurid flashbulb lighting has gone out, replaced with just a single spot on a minimally adorned Larkin.

Life is a cabaret, old chum is a lyric with enough irony baked in that it doesnt require the blunt visual rejoinder, but the strategy is plenty effective just the same.

That also goes for a finale that employs concentration-camp imagery and a thundering wall of sound to hammer home one more moment of unease and a crystal-clear message.

The partys over.

Originally posted here:

Review: True to the original, 'Cabaret' revival trades in hedonism, horror - Seattle Times