Bernie Dieter’s Club Kabarett
Performers: Bernie Dieter, Jarred Dewey, Jacquelin Furey, Iva Rosebud, Caleb Cameron and Soliana Ersie
Venue: The Beauty at Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows
Date and time: Friday 14th August, 7:20pm
Ticket price: £24.00
Reviewed by: Sarah Turnbull
Rating: ★★★★★ 5/5
The mistress of mayhem welcomes you from the bottom of her gin-soaked heart.
From the moment you step in, it feels less like taking your seat and more like slipping into a 1920s speakeasy or a real-life Kit Kat Klub. Performers roam, tease and usher, tiny stunts popping up at the edges while the room hums. Someone flirts you into the perfect spot, someone else balances where no human should be able to, and everywhere there’s a low buzz of possibility. You’re not waiting for the curtain to rise; you’re already inside the party.
At the centre is German-born singer-songwriter Bernie Dieter, the undisputed queen of punk cabaret. She flirts, she disarms, she conscripts willing accomplices with a wink, and she makes it crystal clear: this is a safe space to let go. Her vocals are huge – velvet purr one minute, rock howl the next – the band hits like a shot of espresso, and the costumes, which she changes with gleeful frequency, add a fresh jolt of theatre to every number. You can feel the room relax under her command; even the shyest audience members end up grinning.
This has to be one of my favourite shows of the Fringe 2026! Something that you would struggle to get outside of the world’s biggest arts festival.
The talent carousel is outrageous in the best way. Tap gets a frankly indecent glow-up. Aerialists play deliciously with gender and gaze, holding impossible shapes with languid control before snapping into breakneck sequences that leave the room breathless. There’s a fire act that smoulders with slow-burn sensuality before erupting into full-throttle flame, the heat almost tangible. A contortionist delivers a mind-bending, seemingly boneless routine – the most astonishing I’ve seen on any stage – twisting into shapes that redraw the limits of the body. A sword swallower shocks, then somehow tops it with a finale you watch through your fingers. An avant-garde drag artist redefines “caked up” with wicked, sticky wit.
Flags marked “freak” and “slut” are handed out not to shame but to reclaim; it’s a proud, funny salute to bodies, difference and the right to be gloriously extra.
For all the glitter and gasps, the show has a spine. Dieter threads in a steady call to connection and autonomy: slogans graffitied onto an outfit (“my body, my choice. You will never own me.”) and a plainspoken reminder that, with the world as it is, we need each other more than ever. The politics are worn boldly but never feel like a lecture; they’re part of the party’s purpose.
Technically, it’s tight as a drum. Sound is punchy without being punishing; the band swerves from 1920s jazz to punk basslines and pop hooks without losing the room. Lighting flips from smoky salon to rock gig to hellfire in seconds.
Call it a cabaret, a clubhouse, a rebellion with great eyeliner. Whatever the label, Bernie Dieter’s Club Kabarett is a gin fizz of a night: bracing, naughty and utterly life-affirming. Book it, dress up, bring a friend you can cackle with, and be ready to cheer for the beautiful weirdos – including the one in the mirror.
★★★★★
