Adam Lambert on Playing the Emcee in Broadway’s ‘Cabaret,’ and Why Its Anti-Fascist Themes Hit Even Harder Now Than When He Began the Run: ‘It’s Wild, How Relevant It Is’

Adam Lambert is currently living out a dream, playing the role of the Emcee in the current Broadway run of “Cabaret,” or, as it’s officially known in this production, “Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club.” That extended titling reflects just how immersive the club-like transformation of the August Wilson Theatre is meant to be, with Lambert as host to an intimate, in-the-round audience in his first leading role on Broadway, every bit as impishly sensual — or should it be sensually impish? — as you’d expect in the iconic part.

But there’s also a bit of nightmare to this dream… not in how it’s working out for Lambert, who has scored wide plaudits for his take on the Emcee, but in the nature of the show itself, which is only light-spirited up to a very finite point. For all the theatrical delights it offers, this “Cabaret” hardly holds back on the darker, anti-fascist themes that were first introduced in the 1966 musical drama, which takes place in pre-WWII Berlin, with the rise of Naziism forcing some of the characters to make hard choices. Few who enter this Kit Kat Club will leave without thinking a little or a lot about real-life worries they’ve brought in from the outside the theater. And no one is less likely to ignore them than Lambert, who as a gay, Jewish man. embraces both the mirth of his part and the show’s “it could happen here” topical undertones.

Lambert is five months into his half-year “Cabaret” run, following the role being originated in this production by Eddie Redmayne. He’s joined at the moment by “Moana” and “Mean Girls” star Auliʻi Cravalho as Sally Bowles, with both stars on board for one more month. (Orville Peck and Eva Noblezada step in March 31.) It’s not an overstatement to suggest that this is a role he was born to play, and it’s his extra fortune, good or mixed, to be doing it at a time when no one could have anticipated that “Cabaret” would feel so utterly freshly written. He spoke with Variety on his way to a recent matinee.

It can be interesting to talk to actors later in a run, and especially with something like “Cabaret,” which comes with so many layers… Has the show evolved in your mind over the course of the months you’ve been doing it?

One hundred percent. And with the state of the world and all the things that are going on in our country, it’s so meta. Even more so than in rehearsals, which were before the current administration had gone into office and before the election went south, in my opinion. You know, it’s scary what’s going on, and in a way there’s a catharsis in telling the story every night as sort of a cautionary tale to audiences — like, “Hey, this can happen. It can get out of control.” I think we’re seeing that now. So there are moments in the second act now where I think the audience is more keyed into the themes than they were even at the beginning of the run. It’s wild, how relevant it is.

There can’t be a lot of revivals of other 1960s shows that anyone could do where, over the course of a few months in the 2020s, there is a real sense of current events beginning to catch up that much or most of the audience is going to intuit.

You know, I’m also a history nerd. I love watching documentaries and studying things, and so I’ve always loved this piece on just the level of it commenting on what happened in the ‘30s. I’m Jewish myself, so everything that happened with the Holocaust and Hitler and Germany is something that I’m pretty familiar with and that I’ve learned a lot about. So I knew that going into it, I would bring that understanding and that connection to it to the table. And then the other cool thing about this production is, they also focused on other types of “others” in society, and they really leaned into the queer community that a lot of people probably don’t know was there in Berlin in the ‘20s and super progressive and liberal.

There’s a documentary out there called “Eldorado: Everything the Nazis Hate,” which is about Magnus Hirschfeld, the doctor who had the very first in the world — as far as we know it — LGBTQ center, so to speak, and was doing work with trans people for the first time, justifying their existence and helping them with therapy and guidance and building a community in Berlin for queer people. It was really forward-thinking. The Nazis came in and that was one of the first groups of people they went after. And yeah, we’re seeing that again. So there’s this cool intersection, for me personally, between my Judaism and my queer identity, and it really gets to come alive in the show.

People who don’t know “Cabaret” may not be aware the show has a bit of a split personality [as conceived by songwriters John Kander and Fred Ebb and book writer Joe Masteroff]. Obviously, the idea that you’ll have a good time is a draw. And the show delivers on that… with some rather large asterisks as it goes along.

One of the things I love is the dichotomy between the first act and the second act. The first act is really fun; this is obviously before the Nazis come into Berlin and start taking things away from people, and I love that the show reflects that. In the beginning the show has a sense of joy and freedom and a raunchy, perverse kind of fun. It’s like little naughty jokes, and we’re all loving on each other, and I get to be really kind of obnoxious, this nightclub host who’s got a dirty little mind and having a good old time. I get to really try to warm the audience up and have them drop their inhibitions a bit and just lean into the spirit. Then Act 2 comes and it’s obviously the idea that all these wonderful people that you’ve just fallen in love with are now having their rights and their existence being called into question. So hopefully it’s a piece where, when an audience leaves, it stays with them and it makes them think. I think that’s what’s so genius about the show.

It is so much fun and then the light-heartedness goes away. But the question may be, do you need to feel guilty for having indulged in the initial fun? It always feels like it’s OK to come and get a kick out of it, and then get sobered up, but for almost 60 years, it’s challenged audiences to embrace both those things.

Well, yeah. I have found myself, in moments, sort of scolding the audience for not paying attention in Act 2. And I try to be as understanding as possible. People are seeing this for the first time; some people don’t know the history; some people are caught up in the feeling of Act 1 and they’ve had some drinks and they think it’s all a good laugh. It all comes down to listening. Because it’s all in the text and the songs, all of the stuff we’re talking about. But it’s hard because you’re asking people to take this really hard left turn all of a sudden, in a live piece of entertainment. It is not easy to ask an audience to come with you on that. I think there’s probably some people, some nights, who are like, “No, I wany to stay and have fun! I don’t wanna go into the dark place.” But again, that’s all built into the message of what happened to all the people there, whose rights were taken away, who were vanished and sent to camps. You want to challenge the audience with complicated feelings so that they understand what the characters are going through.

You actually made the news in New York for calling someone to the audience who was snickering in the wrong place to attention, one night.

There’s a song in the show called “If You Could See Her” — it’s me with somebody in a gorilla costume. It’s meant to be sort of a satire; it’s supposed to feel like you’re back in the nightclub and you’re watching a vaudeville act again. But it’s aso commenting on this relationship between two of the supporting characters in the show, and the fact that one of them’s Jewish and one of them’s not, and the challenges that they’re beginning to face from society about wanting to be together. There’s a very powerful scene that precedes this song, and sometimes people just aren’t connecting that my role in the show is to comment on what you just saw. It’s difficult because it first feels like a cutesy little silly number, and then it takes a hard left with a monologue that’s talking about some real things. There’s a big mic-drop moment at the very end of the song where I say, “If you could see her through my eyes, she wouldn’t look Jewish at all.” It’s this famous moment because it’s finally saying what the satire in this song is about, and I think it comes out of nowhere for a lot of people. So there have been nights where there have been people that think it’s a joke, and they laugh. It’s meta, again, because if you’re not paying attention, that’s how we get to some of these terrible places in history.

The first few times it happened, I just let it happen, and I went backstage and I was like, “OK, it’s my job as the storyteller here to guide them to this moment more carefully.” So when you’re asking about what it feels like going into a run (and letting the performance evolve)… I found ways in which to make sure I led them to the moment responsibly, with the setup of some of the other parts of the monologue, making sure they understand that this character’s upset by this and this is hard for him and he’s really worried and saddened by it. So I found over a couple weeks, as I messed with it, that I was able to sort of get ahead of any laughter there, for the most part. But occasionally it still happens. And I started going, “You know what? I’m gonna hold them accountable.” So I’ve stopped and found the person that was laughing, and I say, “No, this is not a joke. This is  real.” And I say it in character. One night, I just said, “Pay attention.” It’s a really powerful moment in the show to handle, and it’s a lot of pressure and has definitely been a tricky thing to figure out. But, as an actor, as a storyteller, I’m really grateful for the opportunity.

Having read that you had said something to the audience at least once, I was kind of in suspense when I saw you do “If You Could See Her” — like, oh, what if there is inappropriate laughter, during what can be one of musical theater’s most shocking moments? But it felt like you drew out the lead-up, to set up that it would be a more serious moment.

Yeah, that’s the change that I’ve made to it. Because when I started, I was playing more of that monologue for laughs, because there’s some easy laughs in there with the gorilla, and you can do some sight gags. Then I realized, no, no, no, no, that’s diluting the weight of that moment. And it’s not my first time hearing it, so I can’t be surprised or irritated that somebody is not understanding it. It’s my job to help them understand it. That’s what I’ve done, to the best of my ability.

The emcee character is so unique in theater. We only ever really see this character when he is on stage and role-playing, except during “I Don’t Care Much”…

Yeah. That moment is a bit different.

… and, then, in however each production’s director chooses to portray the emcee in a silent final appearance. So with no information about the emcee’s life off-stage, there’s a lot for the audience to read into, and different ways to play it. Joel Grey is famous for playing it as this more sinister-feeling character. But the way you’re playing it is more kind of fun and, as you said, playfully raunchy, and it’s a little bit easier to sidle up to the emcee as someone we kind of like.

Yeah. I think the joy of it is how, in the beginning, it’s really warming everybody up and turning on the charm and allowing them to have fun and laugh and be silly and escape into this world with us. I love the opening number. And it’s the narrator that breaks the fourth wall, so I have direct eye contact with them. Our brilliant director (Rebecca Frecknall) and the team have been really kind in allowing me to improv a bit in the beginning when we’re establishing that feeling of freedom in the Kit Kat Club. That’s been a real blast, too; just be able to react based on what happens every night is so much fun. It’s not set in stone. If someone claps really loudly or laughs at a joke and no one else laughs, I’ll look at them and play with them. There’s things that I get to react to in the audience that are happening in real time, which is a real treat.

Do you have your own backstory for the emcee? Because based on how it’s played, people can interpret him as either complicit and a Nazi sympathizer, or a sympathetic victim of the creeping new order.

Yeah. My take on it is that I think he is queer and working in this nightclub around his tribe of people. That’s his crew, the rest of the ensemble that works at the Kit Kat Club. These are his buddies, and they hang out and it’s a safe space for him and for everybody that comes in. He loves provoking the audience. He’s a little twisted, for sure. He’s not just a nice guy; he definitely has an edge to him. He wants to get a reaction out of people. But it’s all sort of in good fun. It’s like going to the Box in New York; it’s wild and weird and meant to be entertaining. And then my idea was, as Act 2 comes in and you start seeing how the characters in the story are being affected by the evil forces that are coming into the city, I wanted to show that he’s affected by it too. Who he is, being a queer man, and maybe Jewish for that matter, is at risk. And I wanted to show his fear. I think he’s terrified, and I think he’s a smart person and he starts going, “OK, what do I need to do in order to survive this? How do I cope personally, and how am I gonna survive?” His idea is to assimilate and take off all the makeup and weird clothes and blend in. I think that’s the theme of this production, and that’s what you see the rest of the cast do. By the end, everybody’s washed their faces off. There’s no more glitter. They’re all in drab, brown, tweed suits that all look the same. And I think he takes that cue and goes, “OK, I just have to keep my head down and not be an individual anymore. Because of these evil forces, I need to just blend in.” I mean, even during “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” in Act 1, which is a number that’s foreshadowing this darkness on the horizon, at the very end I take a blond wig out of a box. And that’s what I come out in at the end — he’s disguised himself to blend in like an Aryan German.

So I think by the very end, he’s heartbroken, because all the things that he is, and all the freedom and space that Berlin gave him to be exactly who he was, are being taken away and he’s got to hide. I think that’s something I can relate to, being a queer person, is how so many of us spend so long hiding ourselves or apologizing and dealing with the shame that comes with that. So I think all those emotions come up for me at the end as like: He’s ashamed, he’s scared, he’s terrified. He is figuring out how to survive.

It’s funny that seeing Adam Lambert in a blond wig and drab suit easily registers as a saddening moment.

Yeah. That’s really depressing. Believe me, I have to take off every stitch of makeup. But it’s all for the story and for the art, and it brings the idea home that it’s no more fun and games. No more freedom.

Let’s talk about “I Don’t Care Much,” since you went into the recording studio recently and cut that as a single. It’s another part of the show that can be interpreted in different ways, or as an all-of-the-above scenario. It could be you as the narrator finally truly singing your real thoughts, for the first time, rationalizing why you’re hardening yourself. Or, since you’ve got Sally there on stage that you’re addressing the song to, in a fantasy kind of way, it could be tht you’re vocalizing her thoughts as she toughens herself up and hardens herself.

Definitely. Or, at least, there’s definitely a little bit of that. It exists in an abstract space because it’s the one song of his that’s not a number at the club. It’s the most most vulnerable that I get to be in the show. So it’s sort of mirroring Sally’s experience, but also, it’s a chance for me to show what he really feels like and is going through underneath all the costumes, so it’s almost like a internal monologue that they’re sharing, in a way.

Sonically, I just love the song. It’s such a beautiful melody. I want to just sort of make it his torch song, you know? So we raised the key and put it in a spot where I could really take advantage of the jazz influence in the score there and make it sort of jazz/torch. I think the lyric is him trying to tell himself he doesn’t care, but he actually does. And you get to see that by the end of the number that, oh, no, he’s heartbroken. But his whole method of survival is blend in, put on a mask and pretend like it doesn’t bother you. The illusion of indifference is his defense mechanism.

And then, for however it relates to the emcee and to Sally, it stands in as a song for Germany singing to itself. Or maybe America singing to itself now. Like, how do people get through these times and remain sensitive but find a buffer to not just internalize it all every day?

Yeah. I mean, that’s the heartbreaking message of the song — that indifference and apathy are sort of the worst, most toxic way to deal with all the things that are going on. It mirrors Sally, who’s trying to pretend like everything’s fine and it’s all fun and games still, even though things are crashing down around her. And I think it mirrors something Cliff says to her: “If you’re not against this, you’re for it.” That’s a real powerful line, as well.

I think what we’re in the middle of in our country right now is that there’s a lot of people that bury their heads in the sand because they just don’t know where to start, and they don’t want to deal with the pain and confusion of everything. Hey, I find myself doing it too. It’s difficult to face it every day. You scroll through social media right now and it’s really draining, because of all the coverage. But I think there’s a certain amount of self-care that we all should make sure we’re doing for ourselves. You know, you can take breaks from it. You’ve got to find ways to look after yourself and your mental health during all this. But then at the same time, try to get involved; try to become part of the counter-movement. Call a senator if something doesn’t agree with you. Get involved in a group or a petition. There’s ways we can get involved and still keep our sanity. I do think that this is a really pivotal moment where we’re gonna have to do stuff, because if we don’t, it’s gonna tip the wrong way. I think it’s pretty intense right now.

And again, maybe one of the things I love about doing this production is that in my way, as an artist, as a creative, this is my part of my contribution. Hopefully, me as part of the cast and part of this team, we’re telling a story every night to audiences, and hopefully the takeaway is: I care about the people that are different. I care about freedom, I care about expression and individuality, and I don’t want to see this happen in my life and to the people that I care about.

So it’s to try to build that sympathy in a way. I hope people leave and they go, “Oh man, I feel bad for these characters that are going through this.” And even if you’re somebody that maybe did vote for Trump and you are conservative and you do come to this show — and it’s an interesting show for somebody with those sets of morals and values to come see — if you’re sitting in the audience, maybe it’ll make you think twice about the consequences of those actions. And if you are on the other side of the fence, like all of us are on stage, I hope it strengthens your empathy and sense of community and sense of justice, and it makes you want to get involved and make a change.

It’s a lot. It’s heavy. But again, I’m grateful for the opportunity to tell an important story.

Just to pivot to a strictly professional subject… You have this huge background in theater, having toured with “Wicked” in its earliest touring days in the 2000s, and done plenty before that. But this is your first Broadway starring experience. Does your prior experience come back pretty naturally after spending all that time not doing theater? Or is there a different kind of energy that you need to rediscover?

It’s been like riding a bike in some ways, for sure. This is my first love; this is what I grew up doing. This is what I did all throughout my twenties until I was 29 on “Idol.” So it’s something I know pretty well and it’s in my bones. But I was also in my twenties the last time I did a long run of a musical, so the bones are a little tired. It definitely takes a certain amount of physical stamina. But I think it’s good for my work ethic, and it’s a good challenge to show up to work and give it my all every night. And I really missed theater people and the community around the theater. I am a theater person. That’s what I am at my core. That’s my spirit; that’s where my heart is. And I love making my own music and exploring different genres, and I love being a recording artist and touring musician. But as far as the family that you get in a show, in a theater production, there’s nothing like it. So it very much feels like home for me, and feels familiar. In some ways doing this production has allowed me to sort of revisit an earlier part of my life, and that’s been really revitalizing for me and healing. It reminded me of the power of storytelling and the magic of working in a great team. I’ve absolutely loved it.

The emcee in “Cabaret” was kind of like a bucket list role, as you’ve described it. Having been maybe spoiled by that experience, will you be looking for a chance to be on Broadway again?

I’m sure it’ll happen again. I love it, and it’s a totally different outlet, and I’m sure something will come along at some point. I don’t have anything planned as of right now, except maybe a vacation when I’m done. But I would definitely be open and curious to do something else.

It probably goes without saying, but one other thing I’d want to throw in there is, for anybody that is supporting the theater and coming and seeing us, we love you and appreciate you. You know, for everybody on stage in this production and all the productions in New York, this is not a mega-lucrative career path. This is hard work to get on stage eight shows a week, and everyone up there does it because they fucking love it and they’re passionate about it. You have to have that love in order to get into the theater every night to do it. So we really love audiences that come in and share that passion with us. And it’s reminded me of the amount of respect that should go to theater performers because it’s a lot of work. Every night we’ve gotta go out there and give it our all, and it’s inspiring to be around. You’re seeing a community of people do what they love and beat the odds every night.