Zombie Joe's Cabaret Macabre: 2021 Review
Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre, North Hollywood, CA
Have you ever wondered what would happen if you wrangled a typical Zombie Joe show, trimmed a little bit of the overt, visceral horror, and made it sexier, sultrier, and more salacious? Well, that’s pretty much exactly the spirit that Cabaret Macabre—the latest production from Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre—embodies. This stimulating burlesque show of the Butoh, written and directed by Brittany DeWeese, is a nearly hour-long venture into the disturbing disorder of life, crafted through the performances of six scintillating (and sometimes titillating) dancers who weave a series of vignettes that touch upon the freaky and the absurd.
Cabaret Macabre is the first ZJU black box theater production since the Coronavirus pandemic began. Coincidentally, it was also the last. It was just March of last year that the show debuted and ran for one weekend before COVID really burst onto the scene and prompted shutdowns of all non-essential businesses and operations, shuttering the show. Though the spectre of the Coronavirus still hasn’t gone away, those restrictions are no longer in place, which has allowed attractions like the performing arts to resume some semblance of operations. Thus, this past weekend, Westcoaster (along with our friends at Park Journey and Theme Park Duo—all masked and vaxxed) spent our post-Awaken the Spirits Saturday evening taking in the thrills and chills and enticing reveals of Zombie Joe’s captivating Cabaret.
The show began innocently enough—by Zombie Joe standards—with an opening monologue by our dashing and suggestive emcee, played by Laura Van Yck. Setting the context as series of vignettes framed within a seeming sideshow of the sensuous, the speech launched into an opening dance number that would establish the general format of the show. The first number was a rousing (or arousing) sequence done in the manner of a standard burlesque show, with the other four ladies of production—DeWeese, Alyssa Burton, Cailey Christ, and Darian Stranix—stepping in seductive and synchronized beat. And by the end of it, one would almost wonder, ‘Would this be just a normal but sexy show?”
This is Zombie Joe’s, so the answer was clearly no. And the cheeky misdirection and twisted turns began immediately in the following segment, featuring Cailey Christ and Michael Baker in the throes of passion with each other, exchanging positions and services while wrapped against the wall to simulate (and stimulate) a bird’s eye view of bed, until it turned out that they weren’t quite alone. A ménage? Well, this was simply the appetizer.
The rest of the show followed the format established by the opening minutes. An introductory monologue by Van Yck providing a bit of context or preview of one or more of the next skits ahead, and the dancers would take it from there. The themes range a gamut of emotional tones, from the serious to the ludicrous, but there was always that general tinge of Zombie Joe morbid darkness in each one—even though the performer’s often exaggerated motions and actions kept the mood raucous and hysterical.
Sometimes, the premise was simple, like two catty but aspiring tap dancers passive-aggressively sabotaging each other’s moves as they danced together until one decided to hammer out a solution. Other times, it was more ridiculous: a woman pleasuring herself with an absurdly long “vibrating” cane handing it off to two ladies who fight over the device—excessively jittering from its effects along the way—before returning the toy after neither was able to quite handle the buzz.
The show could turn psychedelic. At one point, the entire cast goes on a Willy Wonka acid trip tunnel boat ride, making use of one of the carriages from Zombie Joe’s dark ride attractions from recent years (see Dark Dark Ride Ride for that reference), with no earthly way of knowing which direction they are going. The sequences could also be incredibly elaborate, as shown in DeWeese and Christ’s pirouetting duet while trying to stick each other with a goblet of poison. And Michael Baker sashaying to Paul Anka’s “Put Your Head on My Shoulder” while holding a decapitated head and using a severed arm to hold and squeeze? A sardonically fun juxtaposition of body language playing on words. And some sequences, like Alyssa Burton, Darian Stranix, and Laura Van Yck pantomiming their iteration of See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil but with body parts, definitely echoed the style of shows like Urban Death and Blood Alley.
Watching the dancers perform their coordinated, controlled movements was impressive to behold. The artistry and athleticism of each performer was riveting. There was a beauty and rawness in their motions that was evident even while the scenes they were portraying were veering around this tightrope of the disturbing and the provocative.
By the time Cabaret Macabre had completed its show (with a characteristically Zombie Joe’s-style shocking final surprise), it had cemented itself as another stirring success for ZJU. This damned and dirty dance production offers everything that Zombie Joe fans expect, with a heavy dose of perverse humor and ghastly storytelling that fittingly holds up ZJU’s legacy of Grand Guignol horror.
Cabaret Macabre runs one more weekend, this Friday and Saturday nights at 8:30 only—one show a night. Tickets are only $17.50 (plus fees if purchased online—which is recommended to secure a spot). All guests must be masked in accordance with L.A. County guidelines. All performers are vaccinated. The show is for ages 17 and up due to mature themes and partial nudity.
We would be shocked if this show doesn’t come back in the future. It’s a fantastic show that definitely holds a caliber deserving of a recurring Zombie Joe’s feature, so congratulations to Brittany DeWeese and the rest of the cast for an incredible job done. But if you can, show some support for Zombie Joe’s and the North Hollywood theater community and catch them before this run concludes!
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