"Willkommen! Bienvenue! Welcome!

Leave your troubles outside.
So life is disappointing, forget it!
In here life is beautiful.
The girls are beautiful.
Even the orchestra is beautiful."

-"Willkommen" from Cabaret

This past Thursday evening, I sat facing the heavy brocade curtains of the Fabulous Fox Theatre at orchestra level waiting beside my friends for the curtains to open on Cabaret. Indeed, I was expecting incredible dance numbers, impeccable vocals, and all the lights and showmanship of a Broadway touring production, but I was not expecting the overwhelming political implications the show would bring.

In the first act, we are introduced to our host: the flamboyant, happy-go-lucky Master of Ceremonies (Emcee). We meet the naive "party-girl" Sally Bowles who's just arrived from England to dance at the Cabaret. She becomes interested in a young, traveling, socially-aware, all-American author, Cliff Bradshaw. Mr. Bradshaw has rented a room from an old spinster, Fräulein Schneider, a dame who's seen Germany's tempestuous highs and lows and has maintained her elegance. We're introduced to the relationship between Fräulein Schneider and greying Herr Schultz, a German-Jewish shop owner, and their conflict therein. In surprise opposition to these characters is Ernst Ludwig, an acquaintance of Cliff who is discovered later to be a Nazi. And so the show begins with a grandiose display of the European party atmosphere following the end of World War I, alongside the development of each unique, idealistic character.

Cabaret does an impeccable job of portraying the grimy environment of Old Berlin within the abandoned debauchery of the Kit Kat Club. The job is so well done, that if we weren't privy to the historical events just around the corner, we would indeed "leave our troubles outside." With the jazzy glitz and glamor of the orchestra, the girls, the Emcee, the lights, and the music, we could just almost forget the tremor of impending war just outside the Kit Kat Club. We turn a blind eye to the ratty fishnets adorning the dancer's legs. We see through the sheen of grime covering each wall and fixture. We almost even fail to notice that the giant, picture-frame backdrop is blaringly off-center. Our Emcee keeps us happy, partying, and unaware of the shrinking distance between Germany and Nazi Germany. That is, until he drops us headfirst into it.

Cabaret, of course, ends in accordance with the historical events of 1930's Germany. (I won't spoil the dramatically raw and painfully gorgeous ending.) It is not a lighthearted musical. However, it is an extremely important one. With election day just four days away from the creation of this article, I, as a young person, am so sympathetic to the conflict of those ever-so-clueless young Berliners. In one fight scene between Cliff and Sally, Cliff is trying once more to convince Sally to wake up to the time she's living in, to which she retorts, "It's only politics! What has that got to do with us?" I have encountered so many citizens who live with Sally's mindset. "What will my vote count?" "My ideas don't matter to them." "What can we do about it now?" So many would rather plug their ears and put up the blinders rather than look around. The champagne keeps pouring, the girls keep dancing, the orchestra keeps playing. One day, they will realize the champagne is stale, the girls are wearing rags, and the orchestra music has ended. We can only close our eyes until something opens them.

On November 8th, every registered citizen has a choice. You can choose to keep listening to the music. Keep drinking. Keep dancing. Keep pretending it's the Golden Age. Or, you can look around. Realize you have a right, a responsibility, and a capability to change something. Listen. Look. Understand what's going on. Life is not a cabaret, Nazi Germany ended only 71 years ago, and there's Hitler, right on our doorstep. Aufweidershen.