Scene from the play “Cabaret 1999,” directed by Zana Hoxha, premiered at the Gjilan City Theater on February 5, 2026 (Photo: Rilind Beqa)
By: Berat Bajrami
Director Zana Hoxha, drawing on Cabaret by Joe Masteroff, relocates the story from 1930s Berlin to Prishtina in 1999—a city freshly emerging from war, charged with the adrenaline of newfound freedom, haunted by the lingering smell of burned homes, the absence of people, and the rise of a “survival of the strongest” economy. Cabaret 1999 becomes a portrait of post-war Kosovo realism still searching for how to learn to live.
“Willkommen, bienvenue, mirë se vini…” (“Welcome, bienvenue, welcome…”) is the call that opens the world of Cabaret 1999—a call that sounds like a promise of celebration, but as the performance unfolds, increasingly transforms into a bitter irony. On the evening of February 5, 2026, at the Gjilan City Theater, this cabaret appeared as a space divided between two worlds: between the desire to live and the trade of wounds; between newly gained freedom and the fear of a system that devours anyone who dares to live freely.
Director Zana Hoxha, based on Cabaret by Joe Masteroff, relocates the story from 1930s Berlin to Prishtina in 1999—a city newly emerging from war, filled with the adrenaline of newfound freedom, haunted by the lingering scent of burned homes, the absence of people, and the flourishing trade of the “strongest.”
“Klub Europa” is the bubble of “happiness” — a world of carefree living and “complete” freedom beneath dazzling lights and the magic of endless music. A place where life is pleasure and full of color.
Post-war life in search of learning how to live
Zana Hoxha’s directorial choices bring to life characters who may seem ordinary at first glance, yet each complements the other; each carries their own weight, story, struggle, and way of understanding life. Every character is simultaneously layered and complex. It is a realism of post-war Kosovo still searching for how to learn to live.
The characters suppress the bleakness of post-war daily life and survive through love, sex, and pleasure in a Prishtina that embraces the individuality of those who dare, despite being deeply scarred by the struggle for survival.
Cabaret 1999 breaks the fourth wall. The audience is not merely a witness to events—it becomes part of them through laughter and dancing. The characters blend into the audience, sitting among them and sharing moments together. These moments flow naturally, creating scenes that make you lose your sense of time. The performance unfolds organically and without force—from the actors, dancers, and musicians to the costumes and scenography.
“Cabaret 1999” brings us post-war Kosovo not as frozen heroism, but as a living, chaotic reality that still refuses to surrender completely. (Photo: Rilind Beqa)
A moment that advances local theatre
University professor and director Fadil Hysaj says this is true theatre and that Cabaret 1999 elevates and advances Kosovar theatre.
“Great performances do not have a single moment; they flow scene by scene. You feel comfortable in a positive cultural sense, but at the same time you see that the actors, from the very beginning, remain entirely part of one concept—in this case, the one Zana had created—and every artist present there, from the dancers, the composer, to the actors, each one is free. There is a magical flow and there is space to express what one feels and to say it in the best possible way. The performance has breath. None of the actors want to say: ‘I will show what I can do.’ Instead, they perform within a concept. This is a moment that advances our theatre,” Hysaj said after the premiere of the performance. “This is true theatre when the chorus dances, the chorus sings, creates character, expresses thought, but at the same time all of it together becomes part of one concept, and that concept is absorbed by the audience, accepted emotionally by the end of the performance, and returned to the artists through applause, making them not forget such an event.”
“They forget the burned houses. The missing people…”
At the center of the performance is Aida, who sees the city through the eyes of someone who wants to believe, to live freedom, and to dream. She tries to maintain aesthetic distance, but that distance is broken by poverty, the need for work, her attraction to Soni, her confrontation with Claudio, the threat of the MC, and her cooperation with Ernest. She says: “I like this city. It is vulgar. It is chaotic. It is noisy. And everyone acts as if, with the arrival of freedom, all problems have disappeared.”
In this sentence there is both admiration and anxiety. Because immediately after comes memory: “But they forget. They forget the burned houses. The missing people. The destroyed families.”
This is the true drama of the performance. Not the war itself – but what happens after it. The moment when people want to live, to sing, to love, to earn money, to build a normal life, while part of them is still searching for the dead.
At the core of the play’s moral dimension stands Shyretja, the mother searching for her missing son, Fatbardh. She is not only a tragic figure; she is an ontological one. “When he disappeared, his name became irony: fate was no longer bright, but unclear, cut in half. Severed by war.”
However, Shyretja did not accept disappearance as an ending; she continued searching for information. And this story begins there: with her decision not to close the search—“because some stories exist to prove that the end has not yet been determined.”
Freedom is not forgetting
In this act of unending search, the performance finds one of its deepest meanings of freedom. Freedom is not only to live. Freedom is to remember. It is to refuse false closure.
But in contrast to this stands another world—the world of the cabaret, which is more than just a venue. It is a system. A rhythm. A way of forgetting. The MC defines this philosophy with brutality when he sings: “Money makes the world go round.” And suddenly, everything becomes a commodity—love, the body, dreams, hope. Russian, Japanese, French, American women are sold… and then Kosovar women, “young and untouched.”
“People have not only disappeared because of bullets. They have also disappeared through deals. […] Through information. Through false hope. Someone has traded in the fate of the missing. Silence.” These words by Soni, addressed to Ernest, are an open accusation. Ernest (and the MC) become the personification of primitive post-war capitalism—traders of pain who buy and sell silence, hope, and time.
In this world, freedom is no longer a given. It becomes something that must be negotiated every day. This is clearly shown in the confrontation between Aida and the MC, when he calmly says: “Here, you only have comfort when someone allows it.”
And then, like an unwritten law of the new reality: “A human being? Here, you only become one… when they allow it.”
This is precisely where the performance raises its questions: what value does freedom have if dignity depends on someone else’s permission? And what does it mean to remain human in a place where everything can be bought?
But Cabaret 1999 is not only chaos. Within it there is also a strong desire to live. It appears in small, unexpected, sometimes fragile ways, but with humor and full of love. In the late love between Afërdita and Agim, which seems almost naive, yet is a silent act of resistance against loneliness. In Dudije’s complicated relationship with foreign soldiers, where survival and gratitude merge into a morally ambiguous zone. In Aida herself, who continues to write even when she realizes that her story is no longer only about the missing, but also about those who benefit from their absence. These are not heroic stories. They are attempts to live. To love. Not to disappear.
The characters suppress the gloom of post-war everyday life and live between love, sex, and pleasure in a Prishtina that embraces the individuality of those who dare, even though they are severely affected by the struggle for survival (Photo: Rilind Beqa).
A life that does not surrender completely
For actress Semira Latifi, who plays Aida, the cabaret format has made the process of building the character easier, and she believes the performance will have longevity.
“I can say that this (the cabaret format) has helped us a lot; it has made it much easier to build a character, and it has enriched the character a great deal, both my character and all the other characters who share scenes and stories together. It is a good form of acting where each actor can show their talent in the best possible way in front of the audience, and tonight the audience received it very well, the reactions were very positive, and I think it is a project that will have a long life and a very strong audience within itself,” she said.
A life that does not surrender completely
Actress Aurita Agushi has said that the adventure of this production has only just begun.
“I am extremely satisfied (with the audience’s reactions) because the actor on stage feels the energy of the audience. You can feel their breathing, you can feel their energy. I know that our adventure has only just begun and it will be very beautiful with everyone who comes to see this performance,” said Agushi, who plays the role of Mrs. Afërdita.
In the end, the performance offers no definitive answer. It does not close the wound. It does not save anyone completely. But it leaves us with a strong feeling: that life, even when chaotic and tainted, continues to seek happiness.
Cabaret 1999 presents post-war Kosovo not as frozen heroism, but as living, messy life that still refuses to surrender completely.
“Welcome to the cabaret. And don’t forget—the lights go out when we decide.”
