OPINION: Cabaret’s Kit Kat Club and Apathetic Echo Chambers

Note: I wrote this at a very bleak moment in early November and found myself returning to read it in late January. I apologize, as perhaps those dates reveal my political leaning, and I said I wouldn’t push a specific side in my article. But despite my opinions, as I returned to read, I still found it a useful, universal plea to remain aware despite disconcerting, existential fear. So, dear reader, immerse yourself in my (heavy-handed) prose and perhaps emerge with a bit more resilience and willingness to continue in the face of everything! - Rebecca

“It’ll all work out. It’s only politics — and what does that got to do with us?”

Over the past month, certain news stories have thrown me into a bit of a tizzy, from which the only conclusion seemed to be a distinct brand of nihilism that, left unchecked, barrelled towards numbing apathy. While I, like all of you, have a specific political leaning, I’ve found it difficult to find someone who hasn’t felt at least a bit of pessimism concerning the current state of politics. However, I’m trying not to present my political leanings and value judgements in this article. Instead, I’m here to implore you to continue giving political awareness a try, no matter how uncomfortable or disheartening it may feel. We live in a frightening world, but I promise that one of the worst things you can do is disengage from politics and let it wash you by. And I’d like to prove this to you with a musical, of all things.

Perhaps you’ve long denounced the slog of keeping up with the news, or perhaps you are like me, finding it harder and harder to convince yourself to continue. After all, it’s easy to distract and convince yourself the news doesn’t matter. What better way to do so than by submerging yourself in a glittering online echo chamber, filled with instant gratification and hedonistic consumption, where your only forays with the ‘real world’ are through cheap shots and brief commentaries that align with pre-existing political opinions? But retreating into ease and comfortable bubbles can only last for so long, as the smiling façade inevitably collapses under the weight of its own ignorance and irreversible damage.

So, in the depths of my recent misery, as I reconsidered whether it was worth it to remain politically aware, on a whim, I decided to give the musical Cabaret (specifically, its 1998 Broadway Recording) a listen. While I have undoubtedly ruined my Spotify Wrapped with this new hyper fixation, I found Cabaret to be a glamorous yet horrifying musical that I had no choice but to write about.

Cabaret is set in late 1920s Berlin and follows the American writer Cliff Bradshaw as he meets Sally Bowles, a charming cabaret performer at the seedy Kit Kat Club. Cliff and Sally quickly fall into a dreamy romance, moving in with each other and having a blast. But amidst their infatuation in the first act, what was once a progressive, free, and fun Berlin slowly morphs into an oppressive Nazi-controlled Germany in the background. By the second act, the pieces of Cliff and Sally’s paradise begin to crumble. Ernst, Cliff’s first friend, is revealed to be a Nazi; the engagement between landlady Fraulein Schneider and Jewish tenant Herr Schultz is broken off amidst heavy scrutiny; the song “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” reveals its explicit Nazi anthem undertones. Cliff begs Sally to leave Berlin with him, but she refuses, choosing her glamorous life over the rising Nazi threat. Heartbroken, Cliff leaves, with the musical finale of the Kit Kat Club singing a reprise of the first song, “Wilkommen.”

While there are many aspects of the plot and characters I could unpack, likely writing thousands and thousands of words, I found the metaphorical role of the Kit Kat Club and the Emcee to be the most fascinating. The club and the Emcee are like a microcosm of Germany, irrevocably linked to the political turmoil it attempts to distance itself from. The musical opens with the Emcee’s welcome, where he asks the audience to “Leave your troubles outside! / So, life is disappointing? Err? / Forget it! We have no troubles here!” But contrary to the Emcee’s opening statement, The Kit Kat Club becomes a vehicle of commentary, remarking on Cliff and Sally’s living situation (“Two Ladies”), Germany’s worsening economic conditions (“Money”), increasing antisemitism (“If You Could See Her”), and Sally’s final decision to ignore the rise of Nazism (“Cabaret”).

While the Kit Kat Club is initially presented as an escape, where people can “leave [their] troubles outside!” as the situation in Berlin becomes increasingly fraught, the club is not spared despite its goal of pure entertainment. The songs, which begin as snarky comments on Cliff and Sally’s life together, gradually devolve, reflecting the transformation of German politics into something unabashedly sinister. In “If You Could See Her,” the Emcee dances with a performer dressed as a gorilla, singing about the absurdity of their love and the audience’s objections to their relationship. What initially begins as another silly performance of the Kit Kat club, singing playfully, “If you could see her through my eyes / You wouldn’t wonder at all…” ends with the sobering lines, “She wouldn’t look Jewish at all.”

The apathetic ‘character’ of the Kit Kat Club, which passively allowed political changes to drag the club into a future it was too busy ignoring to change, is exemplified when the Emcee sings “I Don’t Care Much.” As the musical closes in the “Finale,” the orchestra’s music distorts into a dark, chaotic rendition of the original score. The Emcee asks the audience for the last time, “Where are your troubles now? / Forgotten — I told you so!” He removes his coat, subverting the audience’s expectations of another sexy cabaret costume, revealing the uniform of a prisoner at Auschwitz. As the gnarled sounds of the orchestra fade to nothingness, the Emcee looks straight at the audience, softly singing “Auf wiedersehen / À bientôt / Good night.”

Now, I hesitate to make any connections between the current political climate and Nazi Germany (that argument has certainly been made enough by online commentators). [Editor’s note: I’m beginning to reconsider my hesitation. -Rebecca]  Still, I found Cabaret to be a sobering reminder of the dangers of political apathy and mindless distraction as a coping mechanism. If we create comfortable echo chambers, doom scroll on social media, and constantly consume media to distract ourselves and feed into our apathy, are we any better than Sally refusing to leave her glamorous life performing at the Cabaret and ignoring growing political dissent? After all, as a broken Sally sings at the end, “It’ll all work out. / It’s only politics — and what does that got to do with us?”

I could write a full essay analyzing every part of Cabaret, but I would (for now) ask only that you reconsider your apathy if you’ve felt yourself tending towards it as of late, while maybe even considering listening to this legendary musical. I’m aware it’s almost impossible to truly separate yourself from the very institutions you live in. But if, as Cabaret argues, your apathetic escapes will inevitably morph to reflect the outer world, lulling you into complacency as oppression, hate, polarization, and anger fester outside, I ask that you make yourself uncomfortable and try to remain informed. As Cliff gets on a train to leave for Paris with a regretful and inconsolable expression, in stark juxtaposition to the hope and joy with which he arrives in Berlin with, he sings:

“It was the end of the world — And I was dancing with Sally Bowles and we were both fast asleep.”