Review: Cabaret, at the Kit Kat Club at the Playhouse Theatre, London

Close your eyes for a second and imagine you're by the Thames, queuing to go into a theatre on a Saturday night. The usher checks your ticket and covers a sticker over your phone camera - photos anywhere inside are forbidden. 

Now you're ready to go in, but not via the main entrance, but through the stage door instead. A silver beaded curtain greets you as you go down, down, down, through metal works and steel pipes. It's dark, with only some dim neon to light your way. Not an average theatre space. 

You explore for a little bit, grab a drink at one of the different bars, watch the musicians and dancers that play throughout. Then it's time to take your seat. In your case, it's high up, but when you finally find your spot, you can see everything - an in-the-round space, the stalls covered by small tables, with vintage lamps and phones. Some at those tables are eating too. The musicians and dancers soon come on to the stage too, until everyone has gathered, and the main event is ready to start. 

Then, the entire auditorium goes pitch black. A drum rolls. And then a Master of Ceremonies emerges, wishing you "Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome". 

Welcome, to the Kit Kat Club. 

Sorry for the long intro, but I don't think I could have introduced Cabaret any other way. 

In a way, this may be particularly hard to write, because, well, what can I add about this version of Cabaret directed by Rebecca Frecknall that hasn't already been said. Or what gave it 7 Olivier wins this year. I can only do it from the experience I had. 

And the experience was pretty bloody good. 

The anticipation of going through the theatre itself is like nothing else you will have experienced. Neither is how the Playhouse has been transformed. Moulin Rouge may have transformed the stage itself, but the Playhouse team have turned the WHOLE THEATRE into a seedy nightclub. In addition, in every other time I have been to the Playhouse, there was something lost by sitting high up. Not so with Cabaret you will be happy to hear. 

Interestingly, we have a new-ish Emcee and Sally Bowles to discuss. 

Just a couple of weeks ago, the show had a cast change, and now welcomes Callum Scott Howells and Madeline Brewer as the two leads. Howells is best known for It's A Sin, one of the best pieces of television I have EVER seen, whereas Brewer is best known for The Handmaid's Tale. 

Howells' Emcee is more than anything a playful character. He gets to be silly, a bit hands on with the other boys and girls at the club, but there are also times when he gets to be incredibly creepy. In some ways it's down to the costumes, especially the Money garb. In a way he's a clown - but then again, clowns are one of people's biggest fears. 

Brewer is the best characterisation of Sally Bowles I have seen thus far. She's not the nicest person, but for the first time, I wanted to know what made her that way, what made her feel she would rather break down and have an early death living like "Life is a Cabaret", rather than have a simple life. She has an incredible singing voice too to boot, performing each of her big numbers in a way I haven't seen before. 

The supporting performances were also excellent, from Sid Sagar's wonderful Clifford to Vivian Parry's Fraulein Schneider and her tragic relationship with the sweet Herr Schultz. I never thought the pineapple scene was supposed to have a sexual undertone but here we are. 

And of course, I HAVE to give props to the entire Prologue company too for setting the scene and adding to the experience. 

I can see why the critics lap this artistic, radical interpretation up

I have seen Cabaret once on stage before, that being the Rufus Norris production. You may well have seen that, or the Donmar production, or just the film. Comparing this one to any other production of Cabaret you know, is chalk and cheese. 

First off, it is an in-the-round stage, with inbuilt revolves going at different speeds to each other, and can also go up and down. Second is how open with gender fluidity this production is, from the casting, costumes, mannerisms in the choreography, just remind us how liberal a place Berlin used to be before the Nazis took over. And finally, in what my best friend Hannah (who I took with me and was a complete Cabaret virgin) said after it was over: 

"It was more of a play with music than a musical" And she was completely right. 

This was because I felt the text from Joe Masteroff's book more than I ever have done. The last couple of lines Cliff says really spoke to me: "It was the end of the world... And we were fast asleep" 

The darkness is not as overt as you may expect - but when it does come in, it is more of a shock. 

I didn't feel uplifted at the end of Cabaret. Or at the end of the final number. I felt uneasy. I felt tense. I felt driven and determined to wake up from whatever slumber I am (or may be) in - because to cut a long story short, I think we can all agree that it's a scary time at the moment; and that history has a nasty habit of repeating itself.