Review: Cabaret

Minotaur’s annual charity cabaret is always good fun, and 2014 was no exception. UEA students put together a tremendously talented company and took to the stage for a night of singing, dancing and comedy, and all in aid of charities St Christopher’s Hospice and Emma’s Bubble Trust.

Credit: Minotaur Theatre Company.

Cabaret is at its best when having fun, and the highlights this year were definitely in that vein. There was a slightly disorganised start with a wealth of performers cluttering the stage, but the night warmed up from there with some tight, lively, good-humoured renditions. A selection of the male company pulled off the Book of Mormon’s opening number, Hello, with perfectly unnerving joviality, as well as confident vocals.

The playfulness of direction in Love Medley from Moulin Rouge also went down well. The duet was one of the better-known song selections, and was split between three sets of besotted couples, all cutting across one another and vying for the spotlight with increasing irritation.

If Cabaret suffered from anything, it would be the obscurity of some of the song choices. This happened especially in the first act. Sometimes lesser-known selections paid off, like with 9 People’s Favourite Thing, which is fresh and funny and was well done, but other choices came off somewhat flatter.

Sometimes it felt like wonderful singers with excellent natural stage presences might have been showcased better with more accessible or bigger songs. Show Off, Make Him Mine, and If Mama was Married all had tinges of this, and came fairly close together.

As seen in 9 People’s Favourite Thing and Hello, character-heavy performances got the best reception. Brits on Tour from Departure Lounge was a definite highlight, full of laddish (embarrassing) dancing and warm, banterous charisma.

Fortunately lines like ‘we’re out to shag your daughter, that’s what your daughter’s for’ didn’t go uncommented on. Compères Poppy Pedder and Rachel Bradley led the show slickly and with unfaltering energy, playing on a faux anxiety over hosting (having tied up and ditched the real choices) and sucking up to an apparent scout planted in the audience.

An honourable mention probably has to go to Charlie Field for a spectacular (if haunting) Edna Turnblad, complete with confusing padding and an enviable capacity for shimmying.