Here’s Rob Lester’s review of this show:

The phrase “A Must-See!!!” is overused in cabaret hype.  With Thomas Honeck’s Dancing with Death it is one of the very few times I’ve ever wanted to use it with no hesitation.  Cabaret can be entertaining, fun, diverting—all good things.  But, it is only sometimes moving, more rarely healing and gripping or cathartic for both performer and audience, and hardly ever something that’s truly motivating and inspiring.  As knowingly and crisply directed by longtime colleague Lisa Moss, this show is every one of those things and more.  This smartly packaged and presented clear-eyed true story of the stuff that matters in life, with songs and a decided and convincing point of view, is a marvel. Literally matters of life and death, it uses down-to-earth humor as relief and seduction to let us embrace normal fears we fear to face.  Non-manipulative, non-preachy,  Honeck’s head-on tackling of subject matter on family matters matters most.

  In an interesting combination of patience out of love and impatience for not suffering fools gladly (incompetent hospital personnel and red tape), his frustrations and joys are shared with present-tense energy.  We giggle.  We gasp.  We get it.  We relate.  The truth has an undeniable pull and power.  The performer has sly charm and guts (punctured in the hospital though they may be).  Some battle scars are emotional and some heal.The songs are presented sometimes with a wink.

  The singing itself is generally straightforward and unpretentious, the messages clearly transmitted with a nod to old-school vaudeville traditions for the perkier carpe diem delights.Honeck’s singing is a perfectly comfortable and natural-sounding extension of his speaking voice.  It’s not a voice and style that will win him roles at the Metropolitan Opera or mindless cheers for those who think singing means screaming and showboating and American Idol, but it’s perfectly fine and fitting.  Imagine a song like “Enjoy Yourself (It’s Later Than You Think)” cheerfully intoned as the friendliest advice from the friendly bearded guy many New York cabaret folks know better as the venue’s booking manager/tech person/greeter/occasional host and a longtime member of MAC’s Board of Directors.  He becomes a pal, an advisor, a sage, an Everyman—and we become his confidante.  Whether his patience is tested as a hospital patient being misdiagnosed and misled or as the grown son of a father whose abilities to express affection are, shall we say, limited.  Peeved and petulant, he is a tea kettle about to boil over and flip his lid.  But first, an acerbic observation.  He’s learned that when a girlfriend asks, “Did you miss me while I was away?” that the answer sought is not his foggy natural one: “Oh? Were you gone?”

The moods are both enriched and enveloped by the superb, focused and very present Musical Director Andrew David Sotomayor, who’s quickly becoming one of the venue’s (and the cabaret world’s) figures who should be named Major Versatile Pianists (the baseball equivalent of those initials M.V.P., Most Valuable Player, apply, too).  Jordan Jancz on cello adds just the right extra layers of emotion and atmosphere.  Together, they are the show’s heartbeat while the man center stage is its soul and our inspiration.  Does it sound high and mighty?  Mighty, yes.  But as down to earth and on the level as The Duplex is one flight above street level.  The two-drink minimum may be appreciated or simply redundant what with this double dose of truth serum.  But sip and think and drink it all in.

What song will be next? “And When I Die?”  Maybe.  Something to bring out his inner Al Jolson?  Maybe.  No, wait, that’s a Mary Chapin Carpenter piece.  Or perhaps….. Well, it all often feels like conversation converting us to his way of thinking and viewing the world—the Truth According to Thomas.   When a show starts in darkness, in costume, (Prop List: One scythe), where do you go from there?  Everywhere, but with Lisa Moss as wise editing guide. She’s proven herself a fine director for themed group shows and solo singers in the past, but this is something deeper, darker, and delightful.  Miss Moss manages mass appeal from the specific story.

You’ll be tempted to write “thank you” on your napkin as you leave.  Your second napkin, that is; the first may have gotten wet from tears of laughter and genuine empathy.  This lightning bolt also tickles and makes a show that dares to differently deal with drama and death the most life-affirming show you can(‘t) imagine.  With Thomas Honeck’s wake-up call, we wake up and smell the coffee and it’s strong, the aroma ultimately sweet and rich.