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Visions that entice desire

by Mia

Cabaret Review
at London's Lyric Theatre

England's damp winter wind ached in my bones. Her soggy, steely gray breath floated thickly in the atmosphere like thousands of miserable ghosts - gloomy spirits who sometimes kissed me, leaving droplets of moisture on my face. My jaws clenched tightly from the chill. My teeth chattered, sounding as if two dice were clicking together inside the palm of a gambler's hand. My muscles felt like a large truck load of cement was poured into them. My legs, frigid and stiff, would hardly shuffle forward upon the busy London streets, towards the tube station near Sussex Garden and Paddington Station, on my way to see a show - Cabaret.

My fingertips tingled with warmth, waiting inside the burrows of the tube station, for the Bakerloo train, which loudly screeched its brakes when it arrived. I squeezed my way onto the crowded train, bracing my back against my Lover's front, as if spooning in bed. Our hands tightly gripped a metal bar, so we wouldn't lose our balance when the train moved at high speeds again.

"Piccadilly Circus," a generic female, computerized voice informed us of our destination. "Mind the gap," it warned, before the doors automatically opened and we exited, reaching our front legs over the gap and onto the concrete. I buttoned my long, black, faux fur coat, wrapped my black knit scarf warmly around my neck, and slipped my matching gloves onto my hands, following the "way out" signs posted on the tube station walls.

Tiny volts of electric energy zipped in my blood, keeping my limbs warm when we exited the station, strolling towards the theater, hand in hand. Instantly, I felt overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly Circus, which reminded me a lot of New York City's Times Square. All of my senses flooded with over-stimulation. People of all different colors and nationalities quickly shuffled their feet past us upon the cold pavement, huddled inside warm coats, colorfully knitted hats and long, thick scarves. My ears, which were glowing pink, nipped by the cold, tuned into the eclectic din surrounding me, listening to a myriad of dialects from all over the world. Warm, humid pants of air exhaled from my mouth, which peeked just above my scarf. Moist puffs of breathy smoke danced around my head, and then floated off behind me as my feet moved quickly towards London's Lyric Theatre.

From a distance, as we walked the cold sidewalks on Shaftesbury Avenue, a glimmering string of red lights flickered and glowed around the large theatre marquis. The word "Cabaret" hypnotized my eyes, luring me nearer to its door. An array of British accents echoed around my head. Male and female voices chattered incessantly around me, excited to see this matinee production, directed by Rufus Norris. There were a few signs posted on the large picture windows which read, Warning: this production contains nudity, which screamed to be read by an assortment of eyes, some of them indifferent, some of them shocked with surprise, and some of them, such as I, very curious.

Christopher Isherwood, an author in the 1920's, upon whose stories Cabaret was based, once wrote in his book, Goodbye to Berlin, "I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking. Recording the man shaving at the window opposite and the woman in the kimono washing her hair. Some day, all this will have to be developed, carefully printed, fixed."

That's precisely the way I felt, as if I had camera lenses for my eyes, observing the extremely talented actors and actresses perform on stage, as the daring story unfolded beneath the dim stage lights. I quietly became the observer, surrendering my will to the moment. My heart quickened with delight, watching the stage, wide-eyed as a child. I hardly blinked. I didn't want to miss a thing. Sometimes I looked through the glass lenses of the small pair of binoculars provided to us by the theatre. A gazillion tiny bubbles of joy somersaulted just beneath my skin, heating my blood with slow boiling anticipation as I watched.

My dark, chocolate brown eyes opened even wider when the sexually indistinct Emcee, played by the talented and eccentric James Dreyfus, opened the show, singing with a devious, naughty grin, "Willkommen" (German for welcome). He was ambiguously dressed in sexy black garters and nylons, mixed with decadent, men's black clothing. His mesmerizing voice reached out to the audience, like tiny ghost-like fingers, grabbing my soul as he sang, captivating all of me. I silenced my chattering thoughts, completely surrendering my will, permitting my soul to be transported to another space and time.

Soon the stage transformed into a train station. It's New Year's Eve. Thick fog haunted the dark air. Clifford Bradshaw, played by the handsome Michael Hayden, and Ernst Ludwig, played by the charming Andrew Maud, exchange words. Ernest tells Cliff about the Kit Kat Klub and Fraulein Schneider's boardinghouse. I was now in Berlin during the 1920's and 30's, a time when creative energy and sexual experimentation flew high, as if birds with new, lightweight feathered wings. It was a dark time when prostitution, drugs, gay love, transvestitism, sadism and masochism fluttered their wings with liberation, nestling comfortably into their laissez-faire positions. But that freedom didn't last long. It was also a moment in history that dangled dangerously on the edge of time. An era when Hitler began to poison the air in Germany with his vengeful, demonic, psychotic soul, killing or imprisoning the Jews, blacks, gypsies, homosexuals and the disabled. It was an unfortunate time when it wasn't okay for the lonely Fraulein Schneider, graciously played by the very talented Sheila Hancock, to marry Herr Schultz, played by the heartwarming actor, Geoffrey Hutchings, because he was Jewish. Her spirit wasn't that strong. Fear shackled her soul in chains. She'd rather be safe than follow her heart.

Sally Bowles is daring, risqué, and beautiful. She's naughty in a whimsical way. She grabs your attention during her opening performance, dressed in a modest yet sexy nun's costume, singing of her indiscretions in, "Don't Tell Mama." A few scenes later, Sally Bowles pleads with Clifford, using her charm, and her seductive and sensual charisma, to take her in after she's been fired from the Kit Kat Klub. At first Cliff refuses, but eventually he relents, allowing Sally to share his little room and his very small, single bed upon which his black metal typewriter sits. He's a writer and a resident at Fraulein Schneider's boardinghouse - a place where naked sailors jaunt through the corridors, coming and going from the voluptuous Fraulein Kost's room - bare-butted sailors with their peckers swaying from side to side. His fellow resident is a voluptuous prostitute, who claims that these sailors are her nephews.

Together, Cliff and Sally journey into a carnal world filled with temptation, lust, booze, drugs and even homosexual love affairs. Suddenly Sally Bowles is pregnant, unaware of whom the father might be.

"Sometimes the music told you what was going to happen, sometimes it simplified what had just happened, and sometimes it had nothing to do with anything except the mood." - Liza Minnelli

This play was definitely much different from the movie which Bob Fosse directed, starring Liza Minnelli. This was a revival of the original play, polished with a unique fresh style and innovative energy. Rufus Norris creatively took from the past, mixing a modern flair into his creation. Yet, Liza's quote sums up the music in this riveting production. It accompanies the ears and the imagination with perfection, flowing from the orchestra, and from the hearts and souls of the performers with synchronized energy.

"One thing that comes out in myths is that at the bottom of the abyss comes the voice of salvation. The black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light." - Joseph Campbell

The Berlin cabarets were a place in limbo between the real world and the imaginary world created on stage. Cabarets assisted many frightened souls to escape the horrors of the world, if only for a few hours. Sally Bowles, a tipsy, free-spirited cabaret singer, played by the lovely and very talented, Anna Maxwell Martin, lived a dark, crazy, scandalous party girl life. She was heavily intoxicated with booze when she was on and offstage. And yet, she could bring magic to the stage at the notorious Kit Kat Klub, helping herself, as well as others, to leave the tragedies of the world behind. Her sultry voice crooned to her audience with raw, unrefined notes and saucy lyrics, while she wore provocative little black costumes, which dared to reveal her smooth, vanilla skin to all the hungry eyes who intently watched her performances.

There are many life lessons which unfold throughout this theatrical story - lessons that touch on diversity, tolerance for others, and how fear and prejudice can demolish the human soul. The Kit Kat Klub was a haven where life was no longer serious - a place where light enveloped the darkness, and chased it away.

This deeply profound theatrical creation is woven like intricate silk threads. Scandalous events weave in and out of the story line as if important stitches in time - events that are sewn together by the fear that darkens the human soul, as well as the glimmer of hope that life can remain the same, as a cabaret, free and open-minded. Comedy, drama and satire interlace onstage, becoming the resilient fabric, when one loses all hope and wants to give up. The inspired beauty of the naked body dances on stage as if in antique erotic paintings. I saw no shame in revealing the naked human body. The performers' nudity was very natural, pure works of art.

In this play, Berlin's burlesque-y world is spinning fast. Doom is approaching. Death is in the air. Hitler's going to impact history in one Hellish way. The cabaret lights dim, solders march, singing the song, Tomorrow Belongs to Me, bullets pierce vital hearts, poisonous gas suffocates Jewish souls, and Europe cries for peace. It's the end of the era of liberation. Berlin was no longer free. Herr Shultz would never bring Fraulein Schneider another ripe pineapple again. The curtains finally close. It was the end.

Tears welled up in my eyes, rolling down my cheeks, when the lights in the theatre flickered back on, quickly consuming the darkness. This amazing, ingenious story touched me profoundly. The actors, actresses, producers and directors have found a fresh way to deliver an old, familiar story. The revival of Cabaret is truly an amazing theatrical production. I was enamored with this performance from the beginning to the end. Bravo!

If you are in London, or get a chance to visit the UK, you must see this unique show at London's Lyric Theatre. I don't think that you'll be disappointment. To find out more about this theatrical production, visit www.lyrictheatrecompany.com

Book review:

The Parlour

Author: n.t. Morley

Reviewer: Mia Jennings Mia@somtel.net

It's been a week since I finished reading n.t. Morley's book, The Parlour. This highly provocative story resonates within like a deep, sublime echo. Each adept word dramatically drops like a pebble into a sinful pond, creating a never-ending rippling effect. The masochistic imagery and dominant eroticism of the book continues to wash over me like a tsunami, engulfing my imagination. The mind's eye drowns with lust.

This gothic fantasy is completely mesmerizing. I craved to be the beautiful submissive, kathryn. I related so well to her character. Sarah, the harsh and beautiful Mistress, reminded me much of my own, beautiful Mistress Jean (MistressJean.net or Rubberella.com). Each paragraph aroused my clit, causing such an anguished throb between my thighs. The sensual torture titillated every inch of my flesh. I desperately found myself taking short, raspy breaths and in desperate need to touch myself. It became sensuous torture to continue reading and deny self-gratification.

I gasped and quivered, page by page. Sexual energy simmered hotly beneath my skin. The role of kathryn consumed me. I found myself holding off on my orgasms, much as kathryn had been ordered to by her beautiful Mistress Sarah. Her nightly visits from Sarah's underground concubine taunted this beautiful submissive in such a delicious way. Regardless of how aroused I became, I tried really hard not to make myself orgasm as I read on. (Okay.okay.I admit it...I was naughty.I couldn't help it. This book is so damn hot!)

For many days I was so transfixed on this highly erotic, naughty tale. The unexpected twist near the end of the book will surprise you. I really enjoyed this brilliant author's dark, eternal touch. n.t. Morley -- I love you! Thank you so much for bringing me so much pleasure. You made love to this reader's mind!

If you're in need of a well-written erotic tale of Dominance and submission, you must read, n.t. Morley's book, The Parlour.

M. Christian even gives his two thumbs up on this book with his sincere quote on the back of this book.

This book can be purchased at Goodvibes.com, Barnes&Noble.com, and Venus Book Club.