If you heard that Rowan Pelling, the celebrated former editor of The Erotic Revue, was staging a Decadent Cabaret, what would you expect?
I think others like me were hoping for something teasing and provocative, something splendid to the eye that was arousing and wildly amusing, stimulating, wicked and witty, a bit on the smutty side, and erotic too.
So it was no wonder that this event sold out at Cambridge’s ADC Theatre, and pretty quickly too I expect. Many great British thespians have trod the boards there, from John Cleese and Eleanor Bron, to Hugh Lawrie and Peter Cook, and I have seen Prince Edward strut his stuff there too.
In fact, the Decadent Cabaret was so amateurish and disappointing that many people walked out - including myself - and today I received a letter of apology from the organiser, Wordfest; this was part of their literary festival in Cambridge.
It had been described as “a scandalous entertainment of readings, burlesque and music”. Indeed, it did contain those elements, but appeared to have been scrambled together there and then at the last minute, with little thought of how it would work out. The highlight of the cabaret was a performance by Miss Sugar Kayne at the end, which I missed and gather was ok by those who stuck it out.
At one stage of the show, the guy sitting behind me yelled out: “Oh no, don’t encourage them, else they’ll be back”, after the Irish musicians had finished playing a jig, more suited for the Cambridge Folk Festival.
After that, on walked a sheepish John Moore to the stoniest of silence. He had earlier been playing the musical saw. I must admit he did it brilliantly - but it was not the right time or place, and again, he should try the Cambridge Folk Festival. I had the feeling that the disappointed audience would have pelted tomatoes at him if they had been handy. I just hope John doesn’t give up his day job; he is also a music blogger for The Guardian. Although we had a very entertaining chat in the bar afterwards, I still have no idea how he got roped into this.
You would expect that with a line-up including the literary likes of Michael Bywater and Medlar Lucan and the dandy Dickon Edwards, that it would have been a stunning and memorable night. But it was only memorable in being so abysmal. Perhaps, as one friend said, it would have been better performed in a different environment, in a club where you could develop a sense of intimacy. What was really impressive was the number of octogenarians in the audience, it was way past their cocoa time. However, I think there was more decadence in my village bus shelter last Saturday night than at the ADC Theatre.
I spoke to Rowan about it afterwards and she hotly denied the evening had been a failure. She then blamed her low budget of £300, most of which had been spent on the burlesque dancer I had missed. At the end of the day, if her name is behind an event, it is her responsibility to ensure that it comes up to scratch.
Despite everything, I didn’t see the need to complain. I didn’t give the evening a second thought until a letter arrived this morning apologising for the quality of the cabaret and offering free tickets for any event at their literary festival next year. I really applaud them for their honesty about this, for being concerned enough about our disappointment to follow it through this way.
What does decadence mean to you? I wonder if you have ever had a refund for a play, or a restaurant meal, that you had been disappointed with.
