“Whoever dreams that I shall fall in love with a Jewish girl?” But if you’ve ever finished Cabaret, you know there was no happy ending for anyone. Normally, love stories like this one would leave viewers with more sweet than bitter feelings, and perhaps a good dose of hope. Till the end, Brian and Sally ultimately held no grudge nor ill-will for each other, ultimately becoming great friends. Both characters’ involvement with Maximilian should have destroyed their relationship, but it somehow persists.
Yet after dawdling the line between friendship and romantic love and all the confusion, the story still managed to resolve all conflicts in great compassion. Brian’s admittance to Sally that he “screwed Max” marks the third time the film subverts the viewer’s pre-existing notions of sexual norms. Then came Maximillian, a wealthy playboy who wooed Sally by inviting her and Brian to his estate, then secretly tried to woo Brian as well. Later, he slept with her and enjoyed it, prompting the audience to think that he is straight instead. At first, Brian declined Sally’s advances, telling her that he did not want to sleep with women, leading viewers to think he was gay. The film even played with sexuality, although it was filmed back in 1972, an arguably more conservative period of time. The relationship between Sally and Brian surprised and delighted me. The main storyline traces how an even-headed teacher named Brian becomes her best friend and lover. That was a song verse from the madcap singer Sally Bowles, a role Liza Minnelli played so well she got an Oscar for it. “It was a fine affair, but now it’s over” Fortunately, the fact that I carried no prior expectations allowed me to be surprised in many ways, some pleasant and some sadly not. I don’t really know what originally compelled me to watch Cabaret. Such was the setting of the 1972 Academy Award winning musical Cabaret. But out there in Weimar-era Germany, the Nazi Party grew ever more powerful. Sally Bowles, the club’s wild and starry-eyed singer, welcomed a reserved English teacher from Cambridge who just moved in. A clown-like master of ceremonies (Emcee or M.C) would often tell his guests, “Leave your troubles outside,” swinging his arm with an exaggerated flair.
In a dimly-lit establishment called the Kit Kat Klub, guests dine, drink, and watch salacious performances. Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome! It’s Berlin in the early thirties.
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