Every June, July, and August, The Paramount Theatre in Austin, TX does three months of revival programming and cranks their air conditioning down. Waaaaaaay down. Just like a rouged Joel Grey and his beautiful orchestra, my Summer Classic Film Series went out on a high note with 1972’s Cabaret (Disc/Download). A perfect finale to a season of stellar cinema, this musical masterpiece mirrors the joy and inclusivity of my favorite movie theater, as well as the frighting world outside its doors.

I’m a big fan of Bob Fosse as film director, and his trademark elements of sexy dance numbers, quick editing, and dreamy cinematography are a perfect match for this tale of the final hedonistic days of the Weimar Republic. Part of what makes Cabaret so emotionally engaging is that the audience understands what’s coming, even when the characters don’t. We know the slow creep of fascism is headed for Berlin, just as we know the days of public and private freedoms are numbered. Cabaret is proof that there have always been people who don’t conform to the traditional ideas of gender and sexuality, there have always been artists and intellectuals who push boundaries, and they will continue to exist, no matter how hard the intolerant try to erase them.

In the care of Fosse, this film often feels like a hallucination. Joel Grey floats through Berlin’s Kit Kat Klub like a nimble sprite welcoming us to the land of “anything goes”. Liza Minnelli as Sally Bowles sings her heart out, staring off into her own version of Oz, allowing the audience to feel like part of this hopeful dream. Let’s toast this magical place with a cocktail similar to one I enjoyed at the Paramount, the Poet’s Dream.

Poet’s Dream

1 oz Gin

1 oz Dry Vermouth

½ oz Bénédictine

2 dashes Orange Bitters

Lemon twist

Combine gin, vermouth, Bénédictine, and bitters in a shaker with ice. Stir to chill, then strain into a Nick & Nora glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Like its twenty-first century audience, the characters of Cabaret all seem to be hurtling toward a violent, uncertain end. We don’t know what will become of Sally, the Master of Ceremonies, and the Kit Kat Klub. We don’t know if Brian will be safe in England once the bombing starts. We don’t know if Fritz and Natalia will be sent to a concentration camp. And maybe that’s why Cabaret feels like such an essential film for these times. It’s a rallying cry to live it up while we can because nobody knows what the future holds. Cheers!