Several months into Donald Trump’s second term, a friend dragged me to Cabaret. The Broadway revival had begun during the Biden administration, when it felt like, perhaps, the center still might hold. Now the rough beast had returned, like the horror movie villain you think you’ve defeated: ominous music, tiny orange hand catching the door right before you can slam it shut. I was less than eager to spend several hours at a musical about rising fascism.
Nonetheless, I’m a good friend. We were there to see Orville . . .
Subscriber Access Required
This article is available to paid subscribers with digital access.
- Already a subscriber with digital access? Log in here to read the full article.
- Not yet subscribed? Subscribe now for full digital access to all articles and downloadable PDFs.
- Prefer a one-time purchase? Click the “Purchase PDF” button above.
- Institutional user? Recommend LIBER to your institution's library for unlimited access.
