Review: 5-Star Theatricals’ ‘Cabaret’ Crackles With Magnetism and Timely Incisiveness

5-Star Theatricals’ production of Cabaret transcends its 58-year-old status to become, again, not only powerfully of the moment but a reminder to those who recall the past and those who can foresee the alarming spectre that potentially awaits; for the uninitiated, it emerges as a harsh but exquisite lesson. This modernized, Michael Matthews-directed rendition at the Bank of America Performing Arts Center’s Scherr Forum in Thousand Oaks, featuring a book by Joe Masteroff, music by John Kander, and lyrics by Fred Ebb, draws from John Van Druten’s play and Christopher Isherwood’s stories, presenting an account with such call-to-action immediacy that audiences will identify with it to a degree not seen for some time.

Set in the twilight of Weimar Germany, Cabaret traces the tangled lives of American writer Clifford Bradshaw, who travels from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to Germany, and the enigmatic Sally Bowles, the resident singer of Berlin’s shadowy Kit Kat Club, where the magnetic Emcee reigns over a world soon polluted by perilous political motivations. Bradshaw’s lodgekeeper, Fräulein Schneider, from whom he’s renting a room, similarly feels the unfortunate winds of change as does particularly Herr Schultz, a sweet man she is enamored with. The musical, with its potent mix of exuberance and unease, endures as a piercing study of indulgence, romance, and a tragedy that surreptitiously creeps up on its characters just as it becomes too late to reverse what has transpired.

Staged in the intimate Scherr Forum Theatre — a cozier, more enveloping venue than the nearby Kavli Theatre — the Club, with its sparkling purple curtain and bulbs, feels more tangible, as do Bradshaw’s unassuming quarters and Schultz’s fruit shop. The visceral impact of the milieu, the expressively risqué costumes by Chris Steele and Gail Garon, the fearlessly imaginative hair and makeup by Luis Martinez, the intimate but stark lighting by Brandon Baruch, and the percussive warning shots delivered by music director Gregory Nabours, alongside his orchestra, resonates deeply.

Eyes are wide open and ears tingle with receptivity to a narrative paced with intentional precision by Matthews, whose unseen hand evocatively builds tension and imparts the all-important takeaway that apathy, and the complicity in apathy, can and will erode liberty in a landscape where extremism threatens to surge. Even places of refuge, of which the Kit Kat Club stands as a symbol, will provide only a fleeting respite, as distractions, no matter how well-intended, inevitably collapse under the weight of authoritarianism.

The principal cast delivers performances of remarkable depth and vigor, breathing new life into these storied roles. Sean Samuels, inhabiting the mordant Emcee (as well as Max and the Train Conductor), owns the proceedings as the stage-slinking narrator who exists outside the sphere he holds and looks into with hope and lament. We are reassured when Samuels’s Emcee, buoyed by an infectious ebullience, proclaims, “In here, life is beautiful.” We are enlightened when he dances with a gorilla (portrayed by Tatiana Monique Alvarez), singing “If You Could See Her,” as if to satirically comment on how readily groups of people, because of their appearance or race, fall prey to demonization by those who sit comfortably in their echo chambers where critical thinking succumbs to groupthink. We understand the calamity soon to come, as grief percolates, when Samuels’s once sanguine face sinks into a disquieted stare in “I Don’t Care Much.”

The star of the Club, Sally Bowles, is infused with a fresh maturity and underlying jadedness by Emily Goglia, who gives a peformance deserving of pyrotechnics, outdoing her last turn in a 5-Star production, as Audrey, in Little Shop of Horrors. Bowles is a disarming but amoral chanteuse, an individual hamstrung by a narrow self-image, making it difficult, if not impossible, to fully commit to decisions that would expand her horizons and self-restricted identity. Through Goglia’s very present acting and world-class vocals, Bowles’s journey as a take-no-prisoners entertainer unfolds (“Don’t Tell Mama”) before we discover that she’s not as empowered as we thought when confronted with her own vulnerability (“Maybe This Time”), only to have an explosive breakdown (in the title song) when an undeniable realization forcefully rises to the surface. The final solo is both a toast and a punch to the gut, where luminous strength and gloomy frailty stubbornly co-exist, manifesting as a tour de force by Goglia.

Connor Bullock smoothly plays the guileless Clifford Bradshaw, the comparatively naive counterpart to Bowles who draws him, and vice versa, in an opposites-attract relationship. Cliff, upon arriving in Berlin, immediately hits the ground running in making friends and acquaintances, including German national Ernst Ludwig — appropriately depicted with deceitful politeness and resolve by Jacob Wilson — whose benevolent offer to Cliff to simply pick up briefcases from Paris, for cash, violently turns on its head once its true purpose is revealed. Bullock embraces the incorruptible values of his character, who grounds the tumult around him, and especially shines within the push-pull dynamic he shares with Goglia’s Sally in scenes at Cliff’s apartment.

Landlady Fräulein Schneider, who is persuaded to give Cliff a 50% discount, is rendered with grace and gratitude by the inimitable Valerie Perri. Schneider, a complicated persona to do justice to, is effortlessly balanced by Perri, who conveys her character’s “So What” modus operandi when dealing with things she cannot control; however, it’s this same thought process that rationalizes Schneider’s choice to extricate herself from a potentially controversial, assailable position even when it breaks her heart to do so.

The legitimacy that Perri brings pairs superbly with Ron Orbach’s Schultz, a fruit proprietor. The two performers, fresh from the memorable, award-worthy production of Fiddler on the Roof at La Mirada Theatre, are indisputably the heart of Cabaret. Orbach proves movingly authentic as an older gentleman who finds contentment with Schneider, both of them appreciative of the little things in life, including a California-grown pineapple (“It Couldn’t Please Me More”). But, this happiness is short-lived, as the practicality of survival takes precedence for one of them — an outcome made even sadder by the quiet dignity with which Orbach reacts to it as Schultz.

The highly underrated Whitney Kathleen Vigil, as Fräulein Kost (and Fritzie), is a tenant and thorn in the side of Schneider, who doesn’t want to constantly catch Kost with an endless crew of sailors in her room. What begins as harmless hijinks, however, becomes deadly serious when Vigil activates her powerhouse vocals in “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” — an angelic melody insidiously disguising the dissemination of evil propaganda.

The Kit Kat Club ensemble in Cabaret fills additional color between the lines of the musical’s celebratory and sobering picture, with a major assist from Clarice Ordaz’s choreography, which pulses with palpitating vividness and life. In some cases, the dancing can be rife with sultry sensuality, incorporating black chairs, as in “Mein Herr,” which is borrowed, along with “Money” and “Maybe This Time,” from the 1972 film.

The choreography, furthermore, is marked with double entendres, as in “Two Ladies,” which features the Emcee beside Herman (the nimble Christian Tyler Dorey) and Frenchie (the rhythmic Angeline Mirenda). In other instances, certain sequences can evoke more earnest sentiments, like when the light-footed company — also including Rianny Vasquez, Donovan Mendelovitz, Tarrick Walker, Sydelle Aaliyah Bhalla, Christopher Ho, and Amy Smith — use their legs to glide themselves, while on their backs, with candles resting on their torsos. And then there’s more subtle, but no less effective, staging, as during Schultz and Schneider’s engagement party when myriad scenes are interwoven among dancing couples.

The movements, and the totality of the performances, carry an unequivocal authenticity comprising a blend of seduction and desperation, each step or countenance foreshadowing an encroaching abyss. The dehumanizing Nazism that festers in Cabaret serves as an analog to a reality indivisible from Masteroff’s chronicle.

Undoubtedly, that’s the scariest part of all; that is, more so than being a cautionary tale, Cabaret reverberates as a live telling of an eventuality that will take root unless our complacency, which is slow but sure to boil our promise of a better day, is courageously faced head-on. It’s easy to retreat back into our self-curated domains of illusion where you “leave your troubles outside,” but a time will formidably arrive when that is no longer an option.

Overall, this production, which ranks easily among 5-Star’s best since The Sound of Music in summer 2024, stands as a testament to vision and artistry, melding behind-the-scenes polish with unforgettable performances. It looms as a compelling masterwork that lingers in the mind, its world of audacious revelry clashing arrestingly with the sterile tyranny it resists — a timeless call to reflect, question, and resist in an age of upheaval.

Cover image caption: Emily Goglia (center) with the company of 5-Star Theatricals’ Cabaret at the Scherr Forum Theatre in Thousand Oaks, CA. Photo by Veronica Slavin Photography

5-Star Theatricals’ production of Cabaret runs through Sunday March 30th. For more information and to purchase tickets, visit 5StarTheatricals.com.