I confess that I passed great patches of Hair in a blur of near-hysteria at the proximity and handsiness of “tribe” members in the aisles. The lack of control during audience participation can render me incoherent the way very few things can. The only possible reaction is a dumb smile and prayer.
Not that anyone else at the recent performance I attended seemed to mind. Many of them came in costume, and most seemed delighted at the chance to interact with the actors, even (or especially) when it involved stars Will Swenson or Gavin Creel grinding against them. Motivated by nostalgia, bemusement or lust, those ticket holders came to have a good time—even if a revolutionary musical is playing to a theater packed with middle-class, middle-aged audiences.
And despite the constant threat of finding yourself in an unwelcome spotlight, having a good time at Hair isn’t too difficult. Regardless of whether or not you’re a flower child or you find the whole idea of peace, love, harmony and understanding naïve, this musical boasts more than the usual ratio of great songs to clunkers in its justly legendary Galt McDermott score (which includes golden oldies like “Easy to Be Hard,” “The Age of Aquarius,” and “Let the Sun Shine In”). Unfortunately, almost all of them are to be found in the shapeless first act, little more than a concept rock concert with a through line about a recently drafted dreamer named Claude (Creel), his raucous best friend Berger (Swenson), and a coterie of various hippies trying to expand their minds and just, like be, ya dig?
Director Diane Paulus, so adept at scraping off the mold that has accumulated on a hippie musical 40 years after its premiere, remains stymied by book writers Gerome Ragni and James Radd’s lack of buildup to a finale that’s supposed to be devastating. Hair still abruptly switches gears from a goofy musical about being young in 1960s America to a protracted, hallucinatory look at the effects of the Vietnam War that includes appearances from Abraham Lincoln and Aretha Franklin. As a result, the final image of a dead soldier pinned to the stage by a spotlight doesn’t have the intended impact.
But then, like most musicals, Hair is at its best when the performers on stage are relaxed enough to have an infectious good time. And luckily, this cast of young performers is game. The title song is a particular highpoint, as Creel and Swenson give the illusion of improvising their harmonies as they go along. And while Caissie Levy remains undaunted even by her character’s yip-in, Kacie Sheik, as the pregnant Jeanie, deserves special kudos for effortlessly straddling the line between sincerity and sending up hippie clichés.
Only Allison Case disappoints. Her over-the-top performance is a constant distraction from the rest of the show, especially since the other ensemble members have all found ways to stand out at just the right time. There’s no reason that she should make such severe facial expressions (her “Beseeching the Audience with Hands Extended” is a particular horror), particularly when she gets to deliver the ever-popular “Frank Mills.” Maybe she’s just on a really bad trip.
> Hair
Open run. Al Hirschfeld Theatre, 302 W. 45th St. (betw. 8th & 9th Aves.), 212-239-6200. $37–$122.
Not that anyone else at the recent performance I attended seemed to mind. Many of them came in costume, and most seemed delighted at the chance to interact with the actors, even (or especially) when it involved stars Will Swenson or Gavin Creel grinding against them. Motivated by nostalgia, bemusement or lust, those ticket holders came to have a good time—even if a revolutionary musical is playing to a theater packed with middle-class, middle-aged audiences.
And despite the constant threat of finding yourself in an unwelcome spotlight, having a good time at Hair isn’t too difficult. Regardless of whether or not you’re a flower child or you find the whole idea of peace, love, harmony and understanding naïve, this musical boasts more than the usual ratio of great songs to clunkers in its justly legendary Galt McDermott score (which includes golden oldies like “Easy to Be Hard,” “The Age of Aquarius,” and “Let the Sun Shine In”). Unfortunately, almost all of them are to be found in the shapeless first act, little more than a concept rock concert with a through line about a recently drafted dreamer named Claude (Creel), his raucous best friend Berger (Swenson), and a coterie of various hippies trying to expand their minds and just, like be, ya dig?
Director Diane Paulus, so adept at scraping off the mold that has accumulated on a hippie musical 40 years after its premiere, remains stymied by book writers Gerome Ragni and James Radd’s lack of buildup to a finale that’s supposed to be devastating. Hair still abruptly switches gears from a goofy musical about being young in 1960s America to a protracted, hallucinatory look at the effects of the Vietnam War that includes appearances from Abraham Lincoln and Aretha Franklin. As a result, the final image of a dead soldier pinned to the stage by a spotlight doesn’t have the intended impact.
But then, like most musicals, Hair is at its best when the performers on stage are relaxed enough to have an infectious good time. And luckily, this cast of young performers is game. The title song is a particular highpoint, as Creel and Swenson give the illusion of improvising their harmonies as they go along. And while Caissie Levy remains undaunted even by her character’s yip-in, Kacie Sheik, as the pregnant Jeanie, deserves special kudos for effortlessly straddling the line between sincerity and sending up hippie clichés.
Only Allison Case disappoints. Her over-the-top performance is a constant distraction from the rest of the show, especially since the other ensemble members have all found ways to stand out at just the right time. There’s no reason that she should make such severe facial expressions (her “Beseeching the Audience with Hands Extended” is a particular horror), particularly when she gets to deliver the ever-popular “Frank Mills.” Maybe she’s just on a really bad trip.
> Hair
Open run. Al Hirschfeld Theatre, 302 W. 45th St. (betw. 8th & 9th Aves.), 212-239-6200. $37–$122.
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