Cabaret.Hell (Kabaree.Põrgu) is a fast paced and debaucherous dance-theatre work based on two renowned, graphic etchings (‘Cabaret’ and ‘Hell’) by Eduard Wiiralt. Director Tanel Saar once again brings the work of an iconic artist to the stage in a performance which is thrilling and astute.
Cabaret.Hell’s blurb describes life as ‘a bacchanalia ending in a hellish hangover.’ Let me save you a google search – ‘bacchanalia’ means ‘a drunken feast’ or ‘an orgy’. The work explores Wiiralt’s iconic etchings as representations of life’s interconnected revelry and suffering; and how we deal with one or the other.
As the audience enters, we see a great white dance floor, and laid upon it, a square lighting truss, waiting to be raised – the party waiting to begin. The show gets off to a strong start as dancers are ‘raised to life’ as they are dragged up from lying, then plopped onto the dance floor, then lurching into the party as Tanel Saar (both director and performer) wheels onto the stage a long, tableclothed dining table, cocktail table and water cooler – a symbolic fountain of indulgence (design – Joel Väli).

Saar’s character acts as a type of all-seeing stage-manager, supervisor or hand of god (or the devil?). He sits in a downstage corner, observing the ruckus, adjusting the play space to his liking and occasionally entering with a camera; at one time zooming in on the tight colony of swarming dancers – the footage live-projected to a huge rear scrim, baring both the chaos and shadowy aesthetic of Wiiralt (video design – Rommi Ruttas).
Throughout the show, we observe the seven dancers on a radical journey of courtship, ritual, sex, celebration, birth, isolation, abandonment, combat and an inevitable demise. The audience is wrenched through cycles of revelry and purgatory, with snap transitions driven not just by the performers but also by the strong lighting design (Rommi Ruttas) and composition performed by Madis Muul.
The choreography (Hanna Maria Saar) tugs us along with the seven-strong flock of dancers lurching us between moments of ritual, chaotic revelry and combat; frequently presenting varied narratives which lead to 6:1 standoffs between the dancers – highlighting varied moments of life’s social juxtapositions.

The ensemble’s connection is palpable. They create iconic tableaus – memorable is Raho Aadla walking a human tightrope then transitioning to a naked resurrected Jesus-esque character, upon a table in a dramatic plume of fog, in a stance which reads ‘peace!’ but also ‘f*ck you!’ at the same time. Memorable too is Mariann Tammaru’s battle of motherhood between clarifying moments of purity and the call to indulgence; and Maria Paiste’s climactic primal bellowing.
The work culminates in a glorious but grotesque dark and wet mess. The final scenes are performed amongst a soft rainfall – soaking and eventually suppressing the dancers into a writhing heap. Saar returns, cigarette in mouth and camera in hand to pan up and down Wiiralt’s Hell’s pile of heads which melts into an exhausted battlefield of bodies. The audience is left with an almost Brechtian moment – partly emotive and partly alienating as Saar extinguishes his cigarette and puppeteers a baby, abandoned in the revelry, who waves goodbye to its mother and her sleeping accomplices – a regretful image of snuffed out hope.

Cabaret.Hell was an absolute journey – graphic, funny, crude and heartbreaking. I found myself contemplating whether life is the party or whether the party is an escape from life. I mused on what is my personal ‘water-cooler’ escape and what is my ‘abandoned baby’. In Cabaret.Hell, Saar and his team exquisitely and excruciatingly bring the kaleidoscopic trip of Wiiralt’s works to the stage, and leaves us with a ‘bacchanalian’ feast of food for thought.
Although Cabaret.Hell’s seasons have come to an end, I strongly urge you to keep your finger on the pulse with what’s happening with VAT Teater, Tanel Saar and his talented ensemble and artistic team.

Subscribe to our email newsletter to get the latest posts delivered right to your email.