PCS's Cabaret: Largely Underwhelming

Portland Center Stage’s rendition of Cabaret misses the point

By Steven Walling

In all fairness, it must be conceded at the outset that Storm Large—whom you may have seen on CBS’s Rock Star: Supernova or locally with her band The Balls—is an unquestionably charismatic singer. But is her talent transferable to musical theatre? Upon seeing Portland Center Stage’s Cabaret, the answer appears to be a resounding no.

The simple truth is that if she had any name but her own, Large wouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance in hell of gracing the stage as Sally Bowles in a professional production. Large is uniformly uncommunicative, uninteresting, and inexperienced.

Though PCS is not the first (and certainly will not be the last) company to employ a celebrity with no acting talent for the sake of a greasy buck, their transparent marketing ploy stinks to high heaven nonetheless.

As a critic, it can be tempting to attack those who demean the art form for the sake of profit rather than evaluate them fairly with the standard measured response. However, for those of you who might wish to pay upwards of sixty dollars to see Large and Portland’s other golden child (and incessant over-actor) Wade McCollum, I will do my best to equate the finer points of PCS’s bawdy show.

Cabaret is loosely based on Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Stories, though, with all the dilution involved, its origin is hardly worth mentioning. Set in Weimar Germany during the rise of the Nazis, the show revolves around the decadent and depraved personalities of the Kit Kat cabaret.

While PCS pays plenty of lip service to the political allegory behind Cabaret, the melding of hedonism with heavy political tones throughout came off as muddled and empty rather than ominous, as it was clearly intended.

Besides, themes treating the dangers of fascism feel somewhat hollow when our own most recent incarnation (G.W. Bush) has already done his worst. In fact, PCS’s decision to stage this play feels decidedly like they’re pandering to an audience’s political sensibilities merely to provide justification for all the gyrating flesh onstage.

The linchpin of the plot is the relationship between English singer Sally Bowles (Large) and Clifford Bradshaw (New York import Romain Frugé). But PCS leaves a gaping hole in the story early on, making it clear that Bradshaw previously had an affair with one of the male cast members of the cabaret. Later, they slide seamlessly into Bradshaw’s infatuation with Sally with whom he wants to settle down to raise a family. I’m all for sexual ambiguity, but at least a cursory explanation of how the man went from closeted homosexual to heartfelt hetero in one fell swoop would be nice. One suspects a more faithful interpretation of the script would achieve this necessary end.

The one ray of light in this production was a subplot featuring the elderly Fräulein Schneider (the solid Michele Mariana) and her conflict over marrying a Jewish shopkeeper (Richard Mathews) in the face of a Nazi takeover. Compared to the cartoonish downward spiral of the remainder of the cast, Mariana’s tragic dilemma is seriously affecting.

Unfortunately, this one strong point is buried under the constant flurry of surface activity in Cabaret. PCS seems unaware that the essential human dilemmas at the heart of this story are ultimately intended to be more affecting than the overblown show tunes delivered by half-naked lounge singers.

PCS’s ploy to draw in warm bodies with some local star power has succeeded at least in attracting lots of attention. As for whether it will make a lasting mark on the company’s effort to dig themselves out of the deep financial hole they have dug, only time will tell. Burning funds on a meaningful theatrical production when you’re deeply in debt could conceivably be perceived as a noble cause, but with the fraudulent mess that is Cabaret, one wonders why the company bothered at all.

Cabaret shows at the Gerding Theater at the Armory, 128 NW Eleventh Ave. Portland; 503.445.3700; $30-$61.50; through Nov. 11th, Thurs. 12pm and 7:30pm, Fri. 7:30pm, Sat.-Sun. 2pm and 7:30pm; visit pcs.org for more info or to purchase tickets.