I think it would be fair to say that my New Year’s Eve was astonishing, and one of the best I’ve ever had. I didn’t stay up for the fireworks – indeed, I was in bed by eleven, after one too many margaritas – but my afternoon yesterday was absolutely phenomenal. John and I went to see Cabaret at the Playhouse theatre, just off Whitehall. It was once again John’s idea, and I didn’t know much about the show; but as soon as I entered the performance space, I knew we were in for something truly special.

Over the next couple of hours, my jaw was almost constantly on the floor. Truth be told, I think I was vaguely familiar with Cabaret as it started to ring a few bells; yet what I found myself watching yesterday was unlike anything I had ever seen or experienced before. The text is set in 1930s Berlin, and is about people coming to terms with the rise of Nazism. One character is a writer from America; another is a jewish man trying to find love. There is a deep darkness at the core of the play, but around this core is a sort of frenetic jollity. The performance itself is full of action and energy, song and dance. When I say ‘full’, I mean you could barely get more into the room. John and I were sitting right next to the circular stage, and the performers were charging in every direction, sometimes so close that I could have touched them.

It was visceral, awe-inspiring entertainment. It was theatre, but it was unlike any theatre I had experienced before. The stage was at the centre of the room, but it was like the entire room was the stage. Thus the performers interacted with the entire space, both on the stage and off it, singing and dancing in a way that was utterly, utterly exhilarating. At the same time, there was an intense darkness to the piece, as the story being told to us was one of persecution and discrimination. The lyrics to some of the songs being sung were truly heartbreaking. There was therefore a discord or juxtaposition at the core of the piece, between the energy of the performance and the play being performed, which was profoundly unsettling.

Once again I’m struggling to sum what I experienced yesterday in one short blog entry. Such performances can never be translated into prose but have to be experienced for yourself. How J managed to get tickets at such a discount baffles me. But as I tried to get home yesterday evening, battling my way through the crowds of revellers and blocked off streets, I reflected to myself once again how lucky I am to live here, in this metropolis of theatre and music and life, where I can go to such amazing performances and events, just a tube line away.

What 2025 will bring is anyone’s guess, but simply being here fills me with optimism. The wider world might be currently standing at a precarious juncture, and indeed yesterday’s performance could be read as a nod to that. Yet what shows like Cabaret also tell you is that humanity always survives; good always finds a way to prevail, and good people will always find a way to show their friendship and love, be that through meeting for drinks in pubs, going to spectacular performances or going to places like India or Morocco. I don’t know what life will bring me next year, but then, life is a cabaret.

Happy New Year everyone!