Mark Nadler

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Mark Nadler

The Supper Club at Pangea, NYC, April 23, 2016

Reviewed by Alix Cohen for Cabaret Scenes

Photo: Lou Montesano
Photo: Lou Montesano

“Here we are at last/It’s like a dream/the 46 of us/a perfect team”begins Mark Nadler taking in every corner of Pangea, eyebrows rising with individual recognition (“Isn’t It a Pity”; George & Ira Gershwin). The performance is more low key than expected. “DON’T! (piano chord) save your kisses/Pass them around…” Nadler stands and shimmies for a big ending…”a hundred years from today!” Ah, here’s the emphatic entertainer we know (“A Hundred Years from Today”; Victor Young/Ned Washington/Joe Young).

It being Passover, the artist jokes about assuming no one would show up. (The room is packed.) “I’m a Jew as well, well, Jew-ish,” he declares. Astonishingly, Irving Berlin (the prolific author of all songs holiday) never wrote a Passover song. Wracking his brain for something suitable, Nadler comes up with and enacts Larry Kerchner’s “A Jewish Christmas” “…All I gotz a bagel mitz a schmear…We want your elves all to ourselves/Is that a chriam?!…” he rises and davens ” “…Let one hand wash the other/Even Jesus had to please his Jewish mother….” “Does this room make my act look big?” In the full, it’s hysterical.

Nadler delivers what he calls a “stream of consciousness show,” mostly spontaneous selections from his encyclopedic brain. And they’re not all hyper-dramatic. One understated highlight combines John Wallowitch’s “Come a Little Closer” with Jerome Kern/Dorothy Fields’ “The Way You Look Tonight.” Sentiment is hushed, nostalgic, every lyric savored. (More of these, please.)

Also by Wallowitch, “I Live Alone Again” is first sung as a painful, halting realization. Nadler follows the rendition with another, as apparently dictated by its author. This time the singer is wryly exultant to be rid of him/her. Without a word changed or volume raised, both versions are dramatically credible.

Between numbers, the charismatic entertainer stands in the middle of the room, calling out/referring jovially to attending friends, cracking jokes. This evening is almost equally quick, sharp stand-up. One might question this were he not so good at it. The intimate, high-spirited party reveals not a serious face among us.

Wallowitch, it seems, was also an avid archivist as, at heart, are most cabaret performers. “There was a piece called ‘Das Man Song’ we were all desperate to get our hands on, from the eclectic 1924 opera Die Grosse Weisse und Schwarze Ham written by a very young Kurt Weill and Oscar Hammerstein II.” Everyone leans forward curious, attentive. According to Nadler, Wallowitch flew to Austria and purloined the sheet music which was laying on a restaurant table, by reaching through the dessert cart “schlag (whipped cream) flying everywhere!” Uh huh. Now that the songwriter is dead, his dear friend feels he can share it. “Raindrops on roses und viskers on kittens…” turns out to be a histrionic, “Cherman” (German, with a poor accent!) interpretation of “My Favorite Things” (Richard Rodgers/Oscar Hammerstein II) with a few references from Weill’s The Threepenny Opera.

A big, bright “On the Sunny Side of the Street” (Jimmy McHugh/Dorothy Fields) is accompanied by tap dancing—yes, Nadler does that, too—first from the piano seat as he plays and then on the club floor among us. “It Ain’t Necessarily So” (the Gershwins; Porgy and Bess) is uber- exaggerated. Between the two is the story-song “Invisible” (David Yazbeck from Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown) which, though performed with apt gravitas, I found too unstructured for my taste.

In the audience tonight with her parents is Nadler’s 14-year-old friend/fan Shai Wexler, who ostensibly requested a number from the blockbuster musical Hamilton. Though self-avowedly “more hip replacement than hip-hop,” Nadler was convinced he should deliver when the young woman told him he’d be “brilliant.” (He suggests this is a fail-safe way to secure a request.) Inadvertently, the artist found his Passover song. While these are traditionally “from the Jews’ point of view,” here was King George III’s “You’ll Be Back” (Lin-Manuel Miranda) which could express the Pharoah’s perspective:

“You’ll be back, soon you’ll see/You’ll remember you belong to me/You’ll be back, time will tell…
Oceans rise, empires fall/We have seen each other through it all/And when push comes to shove/
I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love!” It’s perfect! Needless to say, Nadler mines the material for every bit of outrageous humor. With the set-up in mind, the song’s ending seems to warrant a Hallelujah!

Mark Nadler continues at Pangea May 7, June 25, July 23, August 20, September 24, October 22, November 19 and December 17 with shows at 7 & 9 pm.

Alix Cohen

Alix Cohen’s writing began with poetry, segued into lyrics then took a commercial detour. She now authors pieces about culture/the arts, including reviews and features. A diehard proponent of cabaret, she’s also a theater aficionado, a voting member of Drama Desk, The Drama League and of The NY Press Club in addition to MAC. Currently, Alix writes for Cabaret Scenes, Theater Pizzazz and Woman Around Town. Additional pieces have been published by The New York Post, The National Observer’s Playground Magazine, Pasadena Magazine and Times Square Chronicles. Alix is the recipient of six New York Press Club Awards.