Is it Billy Porter or Emcee that scolds us for laughing in the face of fascism?
By Sarah Ahmed
From the moment you step into the August Wilson Theater, you become a character of “Cabaret.” You are ushered through a side alleyway as staff place a sticker on your phone camera to prevent you from recording the show. You walk into a remodeled space with the aesthetic of a small, intimate Berlin nightclub in the 1930s. A prologue company dances on stage, interacting with guests at nearby tables.
If you were to ignore the allure of the Kit Kat Club’s atmosphere to glance down at the sticker, you would find an eye staring back at you. The message is clear even before the Emcee steps onto the stage to commence the experience. You will be entertained. And you will be watched. Act accordingly.
The opening number beckons viewers to get lost in the spectacle of debauchery and abandon their troubles outside of the club, or in this case, outside of the theater. We may ignore the brief mention of Clifford Bradshaw reading “Mein Kampf,” but when characters confront the swastika-wearing Ernst Ludwig by the end of Act I, we can no longer shrug off the encroaching threat of Nazism.
Perhaps the most unsettling and immersive change in the play’s revival is the scene where a brick is thrown through a Jewish man’s window.
While Herr Schultz tries to soothe Fraulein Schneider’s fears about marrying him, Emcee throws white confetti to mimic shattered glass. It covers the stage, with some pieces falling down by the surrounding tables.
At this point, characters can no longer dismiss rising antisemitic sentiment, and the display of the horrific impacts of fascism is palpable to the audience, both before their very eyes and at the soles of their feet.
Yet, some audience members did not seem to catch the message. A clear disconnect occurs in the second act, one which exposes how easily we fall into the very behaviors the show warns against.
The struggling Broadway production of Cabaret ended at a financial loss a month before schedule on September 21. Prior to his early departure from the role due to illness, Billy Porter’s performance drew backlash on social media for what audiences considered a gross mischaracterization of Emcee.
While I believe Porter’s comment of “Black people have replaced the Jews” when discussing the Broadway show’s rainbow casting was tone-deaf, his interpretation of a Black American Emcee facing discrimination in Nazi Germany is not as baseless as viewers suggest.
Others criticized his use of riffs during solemn numbers, his unnecessary ad-libs, and his inability to sing vocally demanding songs in key (and in an accurate German accent). Yet, there is one particular instance that audiences mistakenly attribute to Porter overcompensating for an inadequate performance: a fourth wall break.
It occurs during the number, “If You Could See Her,” in which Emcee sings about his love for a gorilla. The final line of the song states, “If you could see her through my eyes, she wouldn’t look Jewish at all.”
What is meant to be a raw moment that signifies the dehumanization of Jews during the rise of the Nazi regime was met with laughter during one of Porter’s performances. Porter utters an exasperated “Really?” before repeating the line again, slower.
The ill-timed laughter is not strictly a Porter problem. Audiences have been desensitized to the severity of this line as far back as 2024.
In a NYT article, Joel Grey, the actor who played Emcee in the original 1966 Broadway production and 1972 film adaptation, expresses his unease about this shift in reaction. Audiences originally flinched at the line in the 1960s, but following the re-election of Donald Trump, Grey’s friends noticed how grim-faced Emcees were met with laughter.
Grey suggests that the detachment is evidence that “the line is playing exactly as the Nazi-sympathizing Emcee would have intended.”
Putting aside Porter’s ghostly delivery of the first half of the line, people who believe that his decision to break character was unwarranted are completely missing the point.
Emcee’s character has always been meta. He does not impact the events of the plot, nor does he directly interact with other characters. But he sure does interact with the audience.
“If You Could See Her” is the first time we see Emcee’s hedonistic mask slip. We watch Emcee throw a brick to simulate an antisemite before a gorilla struts onto the stage wearing a dress and music plays. It’s absurd.
We are lulled into a false sense of security and laugh at what is seemingly a lighthearted number, before Emcee suddenly reminds us of reality. He looks towards the audience, expecting them to understand the implication of his love for a Jew. And their ensuing laughter now becomes part of the show.
An actor playing Emcee has every right to react to indifference in any way they interpret a meta Emcee would. And most chose to confront the audience. There is no difference between Porter spoonfeeding the line to theatregoers and another instance where Adam Lambert ad-libbed and asked why people were laughing before admitting he is scared.
Even if Lambert may have still been in character, both him and Porter have the same rhetorical purpose – make sure the audience cannot shrug off their own complacency.
There is no fourth wall break in a play that immerses you so deeply into its narrative that you are inseparable from its message. Willful ignorance is what enabled fascism to thrive in Weimar Germany. It is crucial for an Emcee to get this point across – indirectly, if capable, and directly, if necessary.
Are the fictional and real-life patrons sitting in the Kit Kat Club directly endorsing and participating in fascism?
No.
Are they absolved of all moral responsibility for what occurs outside those doors?
Absolutely not.
