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Dancing on the Surface in Cabaret and Orlando

Atmosphere is all in the loose hustle and bustle of a pre-show, but in a play proper, it can only carry you so far.

The audience is directed down a covered alley and in through the theater’s back door, past dark drapes and beaded curtains, flickering neon, ushers that hand you shots of schnapps, and signs that say LOOK, DON’T TOUCH (these, freshly printed and taped up, had the feeling of a last-minute addition, perhaps in response to recent ). Davis and scenic designer Arnulfo Maldonado have stripped Signature’s vast Irene Diamond stage back to its bare walls; on either side, tall studio lights with their glowing umbrella canopies—along with Oana Botez’s streetwear-meets-runway mash-up of period–ish costumes—give the show the feeling of a high fashion photoshoot. Ruhl’s text is almost entirely direct address: She hews closely to Woolf’s rollicking prose—with its wondrous peaks and its dark, pensive valleys—and tells Orlando’s story through a chorus of narrators, constantly accompanying the hero and becoming the characters he (we’ll start with “he”) encounters on his singular journey.

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