Changing the Conversation

Cabaret at

High Point University

In the wake of Neo-Nazis resurfacing in the US, HPU’s musical production illustrates the roots of the devastating movement in 1930s Berlin.

By Emma DiMaio

Living in High Point, North Carolina places you a mere 200 miles from Charlottesville, Virginia. A mere 200 miles away from where 32-year-old Heather Hyer was killed when a white supremacist drove into a crowd of protestors. But 200 miles is a far enough to still warrant the excuse “What can I do? I’m only one person?”

Jay Putnam found himself wrapped up in a layered realm of responsibility and opportunity when he was chosen to create the world of tantalizing entertainment, intertwined with threatening politics, the world of Kander and Ebb's Cabaret.

“We planned this season certainly before Charlottesville. But we were also doing season planning right after the election,” Putnam explained, “we are in a time when the politics and leadership of the country have become an entertainment state and that feels very timely and connected to what they show is trying to say.”

Prince and Putnam

Cabaret, with music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb and book by Joe Masteroff started its development from “Goodbye to Berlin” by Christopher Isherwood. “I Am the Camera” a play by Van Druten adapted from and combined with source material from the Isherwood novel, as well as a score developed by Sandy Wilson, was acquired by Hal Prince (Evita, Sweeney Todd).

Prince commissioned Joe Masteroff to work on the book. When Prince and Masteroff agreed that Wilson's score failed to capture the essence of late-1920s Berlin, John Kander and Fred Ebb were invited to join the project.

“This show was developed in 1966 at the height of the civil rights era and this was a piece that was very directly speaking to those events,” Putnam spoke about the points he learned from the book, The Making of Cabaret by Keith Garebian, “There was a point where Hal Prince was planning to finish the piece with newsreel footage of lynchings, beatings and other terrible events and ultimately decided that it would be too on the nose, underestimating the audience.”

Cabaret showcases the very initial rumbling of Nazi politics and Hitler becoming a welcomed household name. Even though the audience knows how history will play out, but now, they can connect to characters more than ever being that they might just have to fight evil all over again.

“The Charlottesville rally was pretty soon before auditions and just as the design process was starting.” Putnam divulged, “There were times when I thought, ‘this underlines that this is a piece that speaks to now, and what we NEED to be producing as a positive experience in the wake of terror in the country and national dialogue.’”

Dr. Scott Macleod, who served as the production’s musical director and dialect coach, knew that that the intricate web of the score and source material was not a task to be taken lightly. “The compositional style wasn’t terribly different from other musicals from that genre/time period, but the subject matter certainly was,” explained Macleod, “When coaching vocal selections, we had to deal with some complicated and sensitive subject matter. I was pleasantly surprised at how willingly and maturely our students explored difficult subject matter.”

“I used to think that being against fascism and Nazis was not a political stance, I don’t know anymore.”

Set in 1931 Berlin, Cabaret revolves around the nightlife of the dingy, overly sexualized Kit Kat Klub lead by a welcoming, gender-bending and thrillingly ecstatic Master of Ceremonies, who oversees almost all the action throughout the show.

Focusing around a newly arrived, young, American writer, Cliff Bradshaw and his relationship with cabaret performer, Sally Bowles. The club serves as a threatening metaphor for political development happening just outside its own doors. “Certainly, the idea of ‘be careful of losing yourself in entertainment while the world is slipping away around you’ felt timely.” Putnam commented.

A sub-plot tells of a budding romance between a boarding house owner, Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz, a Jewish fruit seller. Both elderly, the two have seen and survived how Germany has developed, yet leaves the audience to still question if they can handle a rising Nazi power as characters the Ernst Ludwig, Cliff Bradshaw’s first German friend and Fraulein Kost, a prostitute living in Schneider’s boarding house, reveal their true colors.

The Master of Ceremonies makes frequent appearances throughout the show with musical commentary on plot situations, however, we never quite know what side he’s on. “It’s a show that doesn’t take political sides,” said Putnam, and yet, “I used to think that being against fascism and Nazis was not a political stance, I don’t know anymore.”

Tomorrow Belongs to Me.

The final scene of the first act depicts the engagement party of Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz. In attendance with the happy couple is Cliff Bradshaw, Sally Bowles, Ernst Ludwig, Fraulein Kost and her latest client.

It is in this scene that the Nazi party is first brought to light, when Ernst removes his jacket to reveal a swastika armband. Cliff, blindsided, realizes that the favors he had been doing for Ernst throughout the show had been for a horrible cause. Shortly after, Ernst discovers through Fraulein Kost that Fraulein Schneider is to marry a Jewish man. When Ernst heads to leave, Kost stops him and leads a Nazi fight song, in chorus with the entirety of the Kit Kat Club. A final note, a black out.

“Fraulein Kost and Ernst Ludwig are easier to view from a distance as evil, but I think we tried to humanize them.” Putnam said, “It was more challenging trying to help Cabaret boys and girls personalize what they wanted and needed from the audience. How to provoke them. There is an often polite persona of HPU that does not include the type of world cabaret boys and girls are in, one that wants to open people’s eyes.”

Tomorrow Belongs to Me concludes the first act, leaving the audience with an intricate problem to untangle in the midst of a 10 minute intermission. “Is that a moment that we echo some things? Are there torches?” Putnam had to ask himself just how much there was left for him to solve as to properly emote the right elixir of terror and triumph.

MacLeod directed the student actors and actresses to give this a bar song of drunken magnitude, how the Nazi party originally made its presence known. “We discussed some historical elements such as the “Beer Hall Putsch” of 1923, as well as crowd mentality in sports stadiums,” said Macleod, “We explored the influences that would lead a group of people to engage in destructive activities”.

Auf wiedersehen. A bientot.

In the final scene of the show, Cliff Bradshaw is on a train heading out of Germany. He has left Sally Bowles and the Kit Kat Club behind to flee the terror he knows is coming. The train conductor, clearly a disguised Master of Ceremonies sings a reprise of the opening number, “Wilkommen” as the entire cast re-enters and encircles him.

When the Master of Ceremonies is revealed again, he is wearing the ragged striped clothes of a prisoner of a concentration camp, complete with a “Jude” patch. He sings, “Auf wiedersehen. A bientot.” A drum roll into silence, a blackout. The show ends with no curtain call.

“The script indicates that the conductor leaves the podium in the final number, conveying a void of leadership and social emptiness,” Macleod explained, “The orchestra then plays boisterously and intentionally out of tune. It is a powerful moment and we worked to find the texture that would best amplify the dramatic intention.”

Amy Minemier, a student who saw the show twice, said that the show's final moment stopped her in her tracks every time."The finale was the part of the show that was most upsetting for me, especially because I know some people feel like the Emcee's politics were somewhat ambiguous," Minemier explained, "It would certainly be a jarring juxtaposition if he was a Nazi supporter who was convicted for not being good enough for the party."

Cabaret’s score provides no music for a curtain call, while most shows usually do. “That idea had been playing around in my mind for weeks and I didn’t really know how to approach that or handle it. But the book had my back,” Putnam explained, “The impulse or instinct was, there is a certain emotional place that finishes the show and we worked so hard to get you there. Even the aspect of ‘I don’t understand’ I think was still useful.”