Glance over your shoulder just one more time, dab at the corner of your eye with your monikered handkerchief and then walk dramatically towards the horizon, because the 2016 Melbourne Cabaret Festival can now live only in our collective memories. I should probably give you some stats, but I’m going to give that a miss. Stats creep me out. Suffice to say, a whole bunch of truly excellent people braved some of the coldest winter nights that Melbourne has unleashed in recent memory to see a whole bunch of truly excellent shows. I was floored by the stuff I got to see. Literally. Those of you who helped back to my feet night after night will attest to that. (Thanks for that, by the way.)
My feelings of gratitude are mammoth. They are huge, wooly feelings with massive curved tusks. I don’t have the space here to do the dutiful thing and list everyone who is worthy of thanks. There are too many of you, and the festival could not and would not exist, or function, without any of you. Thank you, all. May the universe rain good fortune and happiness down upon you.
And finally, to the audience - to every last wonderful human who attended the festival - we are yours. We belong to you. It’s obvious, I know, but I wanted to remind you. The arts in this country right now is kind of like Michael J. Fox towards the end of Back To The Future when he’s trying to play guitar and he holds his hand up in front of his face and it begins to fade away. But you, you glorious people, are the courage and love of the McFlys; the courage and love that brings Marty back to life and lets him play.
So please, do come again.
You are the reason the arts will always survive.
Let us play for you.
And go and watch Back To The Future.