Olivia Stevens is disarming. She is a pretty and vivacious young woman with an open, generous smile, bringing to mind Dana Delaney or a young Donna Reed. When she begins to sing, however, Stevens loses all guilelessness. She assumes control, goes for the thrills and the tremors, and takes no prisoners. Like the title of her show at the Metropolitan Room, Olivia – Passion, Olivia Stevens is passion from the moment she walks on stage, inviting all emotions the songs offer, and sinking into them with relish.

There is a catch here, however. Stevens was so absorbed in the story she was telling that she often lost the connection with her audience. She is an actress. Her voice is strong and versatile, taking her into intoxicating low tones and gentle higher territory. It is her acting talent, however, and her energy and dance training that drive her performance with drama and grace.

In this show, tracing her career and love life, subtlety was not a strong suit, and there were moments when a fourth wall would have been an asset. “The Man That Got Away” (Arlen/Gershwin) was heartfelt. The guy dumped her. She was homeless. Anyone could agree it was a pretty bad time. Did Stevens really have to collapse on the floor, letting the seconds pass dramatically until she got up again, and then, without a word, go into the French lyrics of “Pigalle”? What was that about? Did she really end up in the colorful but depraved section of Paris? Most of the segments in the show were tied up very neatly, why not this?

While she has a robust belt, Stevens was most compelling in her softer numbers, consumed by life’s questions in “Where I Want to Be” (Chess) by Andersson/Ulvaeus and Tim Rice, and the poignancy and emptiness in “Look Mommy, No Hands” (Keane). Director Eric Michael Gillett wrapped the show around the song’s point, “How careless we are when we're young.”

There are some cabaret fans who do not appreciate songs in other languages. I am not one of them; I enjoyed Stevens’ compelling French and German renditions, with their mix of sentimentality and cynicism, and I got a personal kick out of hearing “Cabaret” in Swedish. Stevens was accompanied by pianist Eric Rausch.

Elizabeth Ahlfors
Cabaret Scenes
November 24, 2008
www.cabaretscenes.org