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A CurtainUp Review
Hair By Les Gutman
By a tradition started, I presume, not long after Hair shattered the quiet of what had been the Astor Library, at the end of the show, the audience is invited onstage to join the Tribe (as the cast is known, also by tradition). Never before, I venture, has the resulting "be-in" achieved the astonishing critical mass that Scott Pask's grassy oval stage and the outdoor air at the Delacorte engenders. Pre-teens (with parents willing to overlook the warnings of nudity, not to mention a plethora of age-inappropriate subjects) mix with late teens and early twenty-somethings (who may or may not fully appreciate what all the fuss over burning draft cards is about) and their grandmothers (who must've had to dig deep in their closets to locate the tie-dyed finery, love beads and oversized peace symbols they show up wearing). As I watched the throng experiencing this moment, questions started coming to mind. Has Hair reconnected our war-weary world with that of 1968? Are we the same, but for a different war and a different president? Watching the Tribe go through its paces, knowing what we now know, we can't help but be struck by how innocent they were. Four decades later, we rise to the sound of the explosive MacDermot/Ragni/Rado score, but while we still respond enthusiastically to the supreme visions of its lonely tunes, are we now wise to those new told lies? What many people dancing on that stage every night probably don't know is that when Hair was performed at what we now call the Public Theater, it didn't include its now-famous finalé, "Let the Sun Shine In". Fearing that the show's ending wasn't sufficiently upbeat, the creators supplied the coda (among a myriad of other changes) before the show arrived on Broadway. It was not to be a celebration, but rather an entreaty, a prayer, a song of hope. It is in that moment, and in that spirit, that the decades, however wise, naive, well-informed or lied to, come together. This, I believe to be the secret of Hair, and its legacy. Hair has virtually no fourth wall, and its gumbo of songs and dialogue largely serve to introduce its characters and, perhaps as importantly today, its sense of time and place. Few shows strive as literally to bring the audience into the experience, and that's what accounts for much of its continuing vitality. What director would seem more right for this sensibility than Diane Paulus, who is best known for having created and directed the goings-on at the Shakespeare-in-a-nightclub extravaganza,The Donkey Show? That she manages to get the audience as engaged as she does is perhaps not surprising. That she is able to infect the cast with so much of the Hair gestalt — to which she does not come by experience since she, like virtually everyone else involved in this production, did not live through the Sixties — is a great accomplishment. But what's most exciting here is that, with the surviving bookwriter-lyricist, she has cobbled together something much more than just a "happening". The success of what Paulus has done is aided in no small way by Karole Armitage's flowing choreography, which provides a sense of self without ever losing its sense of "Tribe". Paulus wisely resists any temptation to bring Hair explicitly into the 21st Century. Its parallels don't require explication. The only post hoc comment this production makes is the wooden fence Scott Pask has placed behind his grassy platform, it's contours unmistakably referencing Maya Lin's Vietnam Memorial. Similarly, the resplendent score, rich in memorable songs, demonstrates that, the revolution it caused forty years ago notwithstanding, it has "classic" bona fides. There has been some addition, some subtraction and some reorganization, but its enduring highlights, from the moment Patina Renea Miller announces the dawning of the Age of Aquarius until the last strains of "Let the Sun Shine In," seem as fresh (and even more glorious) than ever. Indeed, my only frame of reference for comparing this production to the original is the cast recording, and overall, I think the singing is better here. The dozen musicians, onstage under a psychedelic awning, support the cast mightily. If there is a star in this excellent cast, it is Will Swensen, whose infectious Berger is the nucleus around which the Tribe revolves. Jonathan Groff, whose endearing charm and marvelously voice carries far as Claude, can't win this battle, even though the show's story floats in his orbit. (Recent news is that, due to a prior commitment, Groff will leave the production before its two-week extension; Christopher Hanke, who distinguished himself in the largely undistinguished Cry Baby this past season, will be his replacement beginning August 17.) Both of the other principal men, Bryce Ryness as Woof, and Darius Nichols as Hud, are outstanding. Back in the 60's, women were not in combat and it seems that, despite Hair's radical qualities, they were still largely playing second fiddle to the men. That said, the four main women, Caren Lyn Manuel as Sheila, Kacie Sheik as Jeanie, Allison Case as Crissy and Ms. Miller's Dionne, are legatees to a treasure trove of songs which they perform sensationally. Also terrific, and extremely funny, are Megan Lawrence's Mother and Andrew Kober's Margaret Mead (and Father). In its day, Hair served as a wakeup call. Many would say we need it more now than then. There is talk of a Broadway transfer. Whether it materializes or not, you owe it to yourself to get a dose of this tonic in the great outdoors this summer.
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