What do you call a revival of a revival? A re-revival? In the case of this “Cabaret,” you just call it fantastic.
In 1998, directors Sam Mendes and Rob Marshall brushed away the long shadow cast by Bob Fosse and Liza Minnelli to completely reinvent John Kander and Fred Ebb’s 1966 masterpiece.
Now the Roundabout’s brought back the production — down to its logo — with Alan Cumming reprising his brilliant, Tony-winning turn as Emcee of the seedy Kit Kat Klub. Indeed, the theater’s orchestra section’s been transformed into that infamous Berlin nightclub — “Cabaret” is the show that decisively brought the immersive experience to Broadway.
And what an experience it is! Those lucky enough to be seated at one of the small, lamp-lit tables are teleported to 1929 Berlin, when the city is losing itself in dissolute pleasures just as the Nazis are rising to power.
The biggest den of iniquity is the Kit Kat Klub, where boys and girls cavort in fishnet stockings, the roguish Emcee sports track marks on his arms, and the star attraction is a third-rate English entertainer named Sally Bowles.
You have to admire the gumption of Michelle Williams, who chose not just to sing and dance for her Broadway debut, but to take on such an iconic role as Sally.
In films such as “My Week With Marilyn” and “Blue Valentine,” Williams proved to be a master of the small brush stroke, a miniaturist of feelings. That attention to detail doesn’t work on her big Kit Kat numbers, “Don’t Tell Mama” and “Mein Herr.” Williams doesn’t have much flair for comedy, either, and Sally’s breezy, put-on eccentricity feels tentative.
But she gets better when the mood darkens, as Sally and her paramour, a bisexual American writer named Cliff (Bill Heck), get caught up in Berlin’s changing mood — violence is never far from sleaze in “Cabaret.” Tellingly, Williams shines brightest when the focus is just her and a microphone, as on “Maybe This Time” and the devastating title song.
So maybe this Sally Bowles isn’t one for the ages. But the show itself is, and this version, offers plenty of riches, starting with Linda Emond’s finely wrought Fraulein Schneider, a landlady who engages in a doomed romance with Jewish fruit seller Herr Schultz (Danny Burstein).
And because Williams isn’t quite strong enough to offer a counterpoint, the show belongs, more than ever, to Cumming’s diabolical tease.
It’s only fitting he’d get the last word, or rather the last image. You’re left dazzled — and devastated.