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Anti-war message hits home in ‘Hair’
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Reviewed by FRAN HELLER, Contributing Writer
The striking opening sequence says it all.
The electronic wail of our national anthem, rendered deliberately off-key, is followed by the symbolic burning of a draft card. Both acts of defiance allude to the subversion of American ideals and youthful rebellion against the establishment.
Born of the Vietnam era, “Hair” could not be more relevant today. (At least for those of us who oppose the Iraq war.) The 1967 pop-rock musical not only serves as an uncomfortable reminder of our recent American history, but reflects a cumulative shame in which the present only magnifies the past.
Director Victoria Bussert’s bold and hard-hitting production with its unmistakable anti-war diatribe hits home. It’s at Cain Park through Aug. 20.
Subtitled “The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical,” “Hair” first burst upon the scene off-Broadway in 1967. It was produced by Joseph Papp and directed by Gerald Freedman, New York City’s Public Theatre’s first artistic director who later went on to direct the Great Lakes Theater Festival here. “Hair” transferred to Broadway in 1968.
With its blatant emphasis on sex, drugs and rock ’n roll, “Hair” was controversial in both subject matter and music. Just four years prior, the Beatles had burst upon the scene, and “Hair” was the first musical to incorporate the new sound with mainstream theater. It changed the nature and tenor of the musical stage forever.
Written by Gerome Ragni and James Rado (book and lyrics) and Galt MacDermot (music), “Hair” is the “Rent” of the 1960s, when youth-driven counterculture railed against the prevailing norms, seeking meaning, purpose and definition in the lives of the young.
“Hair” is a young person’s musical. The talented, energetic ensemble, many of whom are Bussert’s present and past students at Baldwin-Wallace College, where she serves as director of its musical-theater program, gives the production a fresh, ingenuous feel.
The show’s strength lies in its rich, melodic score. The music is loud and heavily amplified, both trademarks of the pop-rock genre.
The plot is an aimless story strung together by almost 36 musical numbers, several of which catapulted “Hair” into quasi-immortality. These include “Aquarius,” “Good Morning, Starshine” and “The Flesh Failures (Let the Sun Shine In).”
Despite its formlessness, the cumulative effect is overpowering, even moving one to tears about the uselessness of war and its devastating toll on the young.
Amid the haze of free love and drug-induced highs, a story emerges about Claude Foster Bukowski, a conflicted young man torn between burning his draft card like his friends and serving his country. A sweetly innocent Mitch McCarrell is outstanding as Claude, torn between the aimless life of the streets and a more directed one.
One of the most gorgeous melodies comes at the close of the first act in Claude’s soul-searching ballad “Where Do I Go?” “Where is the something, the someone that tells me whether I live or die?” ponders the troubled young man.
A hyperkinetic Benji Reid is first-rate as the Mick Jagger-obsessed homosexual Woof. Phil Carroll shines as the aimless Berger, who gets kicked out of high school and is cruel to his girlfriend Sheila. Charismatic Kayce Cummings is riveting as Sheila, the NYU student protester.
Cummings is an excellent vocalist, and Sheila’s solos, including “Easy to Be Hard,” “I Believe in Love” and “Good Morning, Starshine,” are highlights.
An endearing Libby Servais is the very pregnant love child Jeanie. Songs about racial inequality and miscegenation are spearheaded by the talented Jason Samuel as Hud and equally fine Alana Simone as Dionne.
A very funny scene features Joanne Uniatowski as a dowdy Margaret Mead and Paul Hoffman as her square sidekick photographer Hubert, who have come to observe hippies as if they were visitors from another planet.
A long and meandering first act is followed by the violent and tragic second act. The stark company song “Three-Five-Zero-Zero” alludes to the monthly number of GI casualties at one peak of the Vietnam War. The sobering scene features toy tanks and armored cars as cast members fall over like flies.
This vignette is immediately followed by Berger and Woof’s song “What a Piece of Work Is Man” (from Shakespeare’s Hamlet). The intended irony is not lost.
Scenic and lighting designer Jeff Herrmann creates the Central Park milieu with graffiti-strewn walls dominated by peace signs and a circular platform and scaffolding that suggest a playground.
Herrmann’s psychedelic, other-worldly lighting reflects the hallucinatory effects of the drug-addled counterculture.
Music director Matthew Webb and the band keep the audience tapping and swaying to the hypnotic beat. There is also the distinct feeling of being in a theater with the musicians and lighting technicians in full view above.
Tattered jeans, love beads and tie-dye shirts by costumer Charlotte M. Yetman capture the bohemian lifestyle of the period, as does Janiece Kelley-Kiteley’s choreography.
Director Bussert uses the aisles and rear of the theater to maximum effect in this audience-interactive show.
Stan Kozak’s sound design transforms Central Park into a Viet Cong jungle. The explosive final scenes remain shattering in memory.
Amidst the placards including “Make Love, Not War” and “Peace Now,” one stands out among all the rest — “Bring the Boys Home.”
Whether déjà vu for baby boomers, a sobering reference for the World War II crowd, or a cautionary tale for those born after 1970, “Hair” speaks to all generations. The standing ovation opening night was proof.
Please note: “Hair” is intended for mature audiences. There is no nudity in this production. Tickets: 216-371-3000 or http://www.cainpark .com.
The striking opening sequence says it all.
The electronic wail of our national anthem, rendered deliberately off-key, is followed by the symbolic burning of a draft card. Both acts of defiance allude to the subversion of American ideals and youthful rebellion against the establishment.
Born of the Vietnam era, “Hair” could not be more relevant today. (At least for those of us who oppose the Iraq war.) The 1967 pop-rock musical not only serves as an uncomfortable reminder of our recent American history, but reflects a cumulative shame in which the present only magnifies the past.
Director Victoria Bussert’s bold and hard-hitting production with its unmistakable anti-war diatribe hits home. It’s at Cain Park through Aug. 20.
Subtitled “The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical,” “Hair” first burst upon the scene off-Broadway in 1967. It was produced by Joseph Papp and directed by Gerald Freedman, New York City’s Public Theatre’s first artistic director who later went on to direct the Great Lakes Theater Festival here. “Hair” transferred to Broadway in 1968.
With its blatant emphasis on sex, drugs and rock ’n roll, “Hair” was controversial in both subject matter and music. Just four years prior, the Beatles had burst upon the scene, and “Hair” was the first musical to incorporate the new sound with mainstream theater. It changed the nature and tenor of the musical stage forever.
Written by Gerome Ragni and James Rado (book and lyrics) and Galt MacDermot (music), “Hair” is the “Rent” of the 1960s, when youth-driven counterculture railed against the prevailing norms, seeking meaning, purpose and definition in the lives of the young.
“Hair” is a young person’s musical. The talented, energetic ensemble, many of whom are Bussert’s present and past students at Baldwin-Wallace College, where she serves as director of its musical-theater program, gives the production a fresh, ingenuous feel.
The show’s strength lies in its rich, melodic score. The music is loud and heavily amplified, both trademarks of the pop-rock genre.
The plot is an aimless story strung together by almost 36 musical numbers, several of which catapulted “Hair” into quasi-immortality. These include “Aquarius,” “Good Morning, Starshine” and “The Flesh Failures (Let the Sun Shine In).”
Despite its formlessness, the cumulative effect is overpowering, even moving one to tears about the uselessness of war and its devastating toll on the young.
Amid the haze of free love and drug-induced highs, a story emerges about Claude Foster Bukowski, a conflicted young man torn between burning his draft card like his friends and serving his country. A sweetly innocent Mitch McCarrell is outstanding as Claude, torn between the aimless life of the streets and a more directed one.
One of the most gorgeous melodies comes at the close of the first act in Claude’s soul-searching ballad “Where Do I Go?” “Where is the something, the someone that tells me whether I live or die?” ponders the troubled young man.
A hyperkinetic Benji Reid is first-rate as the Mick Jagger-obsessed homosexual Woof. Phil Carroll shines as the aimless Berger, who gets kicked out of high school and is cruel to his girlfriend Sheila. Charismatic Kayce Cummings is riveting as Sheila, the NYU student protester.
Cummings is an excellent vocalist, and Sheila’s solos, including “Easy to Be Hard,” “I Believe in Love” and “Good Morning, Starshine,” are highlights.
An endearing Libby Servais is the very pregnant love child Jeanie. Songs about racial inequality and miscegenation are spearheaded by the talented Jason Samuel as Hud and equally fine Alana Simone as Dionne.
A very funny scene features Joanne Uniatowski as a dowdy Margaret Mead and Paul Hoffman as her square sidekick photographer Hubert, who have come to observe hippies as if they were visitors from another planet.
A long and meandering first act is followed by the violent and tragic second act. The stark company song “Three-Five-Zero-Zero” alludes to the monthly number of GI casualties at one peak of the Vietnam War. The sobering scene features toy tanks and armored cars as cast members fall over like flies.
This vignette is immediately followed by Berger and Woof’s song “What a Piece of Work Is Man” (from Shakespeare’s Hamlet). The intended irony is not lost.
Scenic and lighting designer Jeff Herrmann creates the Central Park milieu with graffiti-strewn walls dominated by peace signs and a circular platform and scaffolding that suggest a playground.
Herrmann’s psychedelic, other-worldly lighting reflects the hallucinatory effects of the drug-addled counterculture.
Music director Matthew Webb and the band keep the audience tapping and swaying to the hypnotic beat. There is also the distinct feeling of being in a theater with the musicians and lighting technicians in full view above.
Tattered jeans, love beads and tie-dye shirts by costumer Charlotte M. Yetman capture the bohemian lifestyle of the period, as does Janiece Kelley-Kiteley’s choreography.
Director Bussert uses the aisles and rear of the theater to maximum effect in this audience-interactive show.
Stan Kozak’s sound design transforms Central Park into a Viet Cong jungle. The explosive final scenes remain shattering in memory.
Amidst the placards including “Make Love, Not War” and “Peace Now,” one stands out among all the rest — “Bring the Boys Home.”
Whether déjà vu for baby boomers, a sobering reference for the World War II crowd, or a cautionary tale for those born after 1970, “Hair” speaks to all generations. The standing ovation opening night was proof.
Please note: “Hair” is intended for mature audiences. There is no nudity in this production. Tickets: 216-371-3000 or http://www.cainpark .com.
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