Nobody doesn't like "Cabaret." O.K., that's probably an exaggeration, but unlike a lot of other long-running musicals you can name, nobody resents it. It never became a joke the way "Cats" did. It's not a symbol of corporate theater, as "The Lion King" is. You won't find anyone casting eyes upward in amazement at the taste of the theatergoing public and declaring, "Egads, won't it ever close?" the way they do with "Phantom of the Opera." (Well, I do that, anyway.) Rather, Roundabout Theater Company's revival of "Cabaret" at Studio 54 — which is in fact closing on Nov. 2, after five and a half years, 37 previews and 2,306 regular performances — is leaving without having worn out its welcome. For one thing of course there is the score, with music by John Kander and lyrics by Fred Ebb. From the wickedly inviting opener, "Wilkommen," to the terrifying Nazi anthem, "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," that closes the first act, to the title song, with the defiant, melancholy-tinted joy it expresses at life's limited pleasures, it is one of a handful ("West Side Story" is another; so is "My Fair Lady") with the kind of lingering power that comes from pungent musicality tied to memorable emotions. And the book by Joe Masteroff is a terrific and highly sophisticated exercise in narrative technique, personifying omniscience in the character of the M.C.

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times Natasha Richardson and Alan Cumming were the revival's first stars.

But beyond the show itself, this Roundabout production and its historically significant run — it is the third-longest-running revival ever on Broadway, after "Chicago" and "Oh! Calcutta!" — has quietly enriched the world of the stage (and to some degree the screen) in ways that not many shows can claim.

Just for starters, it brought two new Broadway theaters online. When this "Cabaret" opened, on March 19, 1998 — 31 years after the original — it was at Henry Miller's Theater (now the home of "Urinetown"), which was where "Our Town" had its premiere in 1936 but had more recently done service as a nightclub and a porn palace. The theater's slightly seedy atmosphere was appropriate for the Kit Kat Club, the gaudily raunchy Berlin nightspot where much of "Cabaret" takes place; the front rows were removed and replaced with club tables to add a taste of realism to the illusion of the show.

In November of the first year, the show moved to Studio 54, the notorious nightclub of the 1980's that had been renovated to the tune of $1.2 million to accommodate the Kit Kat Club. That's where "Cabaret" staked its unusual Broadway claim as a show that takes place within the confines not just of the stage but of the whole theater, as though there were no proscenium convention.

This is not traditional Broadway style; the violation of the fourth wall remains experimental in the mainstream that Broadway represents, which is one reason that when the puppets march down the aisles in "The Lion King" or manipulated birds fly overhead as though the New Amsterdam Theater were an aviary, the effect is so surprising.

But rarely — I want to say never, though I'm sure others would correct me — does a Broadway show turn the entire theatrical space into its performance environment, including the audience in its embrace as though we were part of the performance enterprise. Wilkommen indeed. There's an informality about "Cabaret" that the Broadway theater could use more of.

This informality was part of the invention of the show's directors: Sam Mendes and Rob Marshall. For Mr. Mendes, who has gone on to win an Academy Award for "American Beauty" and who is the director of the current revival of "Gypsy," "Cabaret" was his Broadway debut. And for Mr. Marshall, who was also responsible for the show's gleefully raunchy choreography, it was his first directing credit, certainly a stepping stone for the man whose first film as a director, "Chicago," won six Academy Awards, including best picture.

By the way, has there been, before or since, a show in which sexuality in general and kinky sexuality in particular were so graphically depicted and yet so unobjectionably received? When "Cabaret" was featured on the Tony Award broadcast in June 1999, and Alan Cumming, the original M.C., smacked the bottoms of the scantily clad Kit Kat girls on prime-time television, I remember thinking that scandal, or at least righteous uproar, was imminent. But as far as I know there was only applause as the show won five Tonys, including best revival.

Mr. Cumming was largely introduced to American audiences by "Cabaret," and he undoubtedly owes his successful subsequent career to the acclaim he received. Natasha Richardson, his co-star, had been on Broadway before — in the celebrated and sizzling Roundabout production of "Anna Christie," during which she met Liam Neeson, who became her husband — but as the brazen Sally Bowles in "Cabaret" the range of her talent was made evident. Two Tony winners from this year, Denis O'Hare and Michele Pawk, were also in that original cast. The list of stars and celebrities (sometimes they're one and the same, sometimes not) that have performed in this production over the years is remarkable.

A couple, Neil Patrick Harris (a k a Doogie Howser) and John Stamos (who will shortly be stepping in for Antonio Banderas in "Nine"), used the role of M.C. to overcome their images as television lightweights. (The current M.C. is Jon Secada, who doesn't represent the apex of the show's casting coups.) Among the 15 women who have assayed Sally Bowles have been many known for their work on the small or large screens: Jennifer Jason Leigh, Gina Gershon, Lea Thompson, Brooke Shields, Jane Leeves, Molly Ringwald and Melina Kanakaredes.

Many of them, including Ms. Kanakaredes, whom I saw in the role last week, performed alluringly and with surprising panache. But more to the point, the list of name-brand Sally Bowleses is a testament to the lessons learned by the Roundabout in the care and feeding of a long-running show. "Cabaret" was the first show for which the marketing and casting departments of the theater had to deal with such a fortuitous event. (Its next production in Studio 54, provided some additional financing can be obtained, will be a riskier venture, the Stephen Sondheim musical "Assassins," a revival of which was planned for two season ago but then postponed after 9/11.)

Over all the Roundabout is probably the chief beneficiary of "Cabaret's" five and a half years. In a not quite so gargantuan way, "Cabaret" has been the financial boon to the Roundabout that "A Chorus Line" was to the Joseph Papp Public Theater. Todd Haimes, the Roundabout's artistic director, estimated the show earned $8.5 million for the company.

When "Cabaret" opened, he said, the theater had no endowment; now the endowment is $12 million. The Roundabout's annual budget when "Cabaret" opened was about $15 million, Mr. Haimes said; this year it's about $40 million. When the show opened, the company didn't own Studio 54; now it does. It didn't have a long-term lease on the beautifully refurbished American Airlines Theater; now it does. It wasn't renovating the American Place Theater's longtime home on West 46th Street, which it has taken over and plans to reopen this winter.

"It's provided us a degree of stability, that's for sure," Mr. Haimes said. "Second, when a show is that big a hit, it helps your visibility, which results in increased contributions, subscriptions, increased awareness in every way. But even more than that, artistically it gave us credibility as an institution that could produce musicals well and market and exploit the success of a musical well. As a result people are more likely to give us their projects. It's been sort of a seminal experience."

The New York Times
Septiembre - 2003