A final farewell to old friends
Today at the Grodzisk Cultural Center (CK Grodzisk), I attended the farewell tour of Kabaret Limo, titled “The Last Goodbye.” The name itself brought a slight pang of nostalgia. Knowing I was watching one of this group’s final performances felt a bit like saying goodbye to an old friend. Fortunately, Limo didn’t show up that evening to host a sad farewell. They came to throw a huge, absurd party where seriousness was strictly prohibited. Abelard Giza, Ewa Błachnio, Szymon Jachimek, and Wojciech Tremiszewski took the stage. Over the years, this crew developed their own inimitable style full of absurdity, subversiveness, and humor that could simultaneously make you laugh and make you think a little.
Hit after hit from the basement and the stage
From the very first minutes, it was clear this wouldn’t be an ordinary show. Kabaret Limo treated the audience like a group of old friends invited to one last big party. The most recognizable sketches and songs from the group’s history returned to the stage, along with older “basement” numbers that had been waiting years for a second life. The trademark Limo world was there, full of weird characters, unexpected plot twists, and situations. In them, ordinary everyday life turned into complete chaos within seconds. We got the vibes known from numbers like “Hitler changes his last name,” where the absurdity reached Olympic levels, or scenes with the balding Blacha, who became one of the memorable elements of the cabaret universe.
Kabaret Limo’s farewell tour without the gloom
As usual, Abelard Giza could trigger roars of laughter with a single look and the way he played his character. Ewa Błachnio brought tremendous energy and character to the stage, Szymon Jachimek entertained with precise observations and a unique sense of humor, and Wojciech Tremiszewski proved that stage expression could be a sport in its own right. Together, they created a mix that worked like a well-crafted cocktail—a bit of absurdity, a bit of smart satire, and a whole lot of laughter. The most defining thing about the evening was that nobody felt like they were watching the end. It felt more like a giant farewell bash where the artists pulled their best ideas out of the drawer. They allowed themselves to play with the format one more time. Improvisation, controlled silliness, and stage ease meant that any minute could veer off in a completely unexpected direction.
After the show ended, I left the Cultural Center with a mix of joy and a slight tinge of sadness. On the one hand, I knew I had taken part in a special event. On the other, it was a shame to say goodbye to a crew that had proven for years that cabaret could be more than just a series of jokes. That evening, Limo didn’t leave sadness in its wake, but rather a mark in the form of cheeks aching from laughter. They also left behind the conviction that you can choose the best possible way to say goodbye—by making people laugh until the very last minute.