First produced in 1967 downtown at the Public Theater, this "American Tribal Love-Rock Musical" packed a powerful punch. Hair hit the mark at a time when many were protesting the Vietnam War, as were the anti-establishment "hippies" in the show.
But the current revival proves the show hasn't lost its zing. It wins on two fronts: first, that this country and, in fact, the world is in a state of change and longing for where it was back in the 60s, seeking for the right path - for peace, for freedom, trying, hoping, to avoid war (or curtail it) if at all possible. Hair puts out an open invitation for viewers to get right in there and follow what's going on onstage.
Second, artistically, you just can't lose, what with the glorious book and lyrics by James Rado and Gerome Ragni supported by the miraculously tuneful songs by Galt McDermot. When the show opens with Dionne (with vivacious Saycon Sengbloh subbing for the ailing Sasha Allen at the performance I saw) belting out "Aquarius," I got gooseflesh. And enthusiasm? I can't remember when I last saw a show that rivaled Hair in sheer "breaking-down-the-fourth-wall" passion.
Of course, barriers are naturally broken when some performers come out front and literally climb over the armrests of some of the seats, race down the aisle, or "do their thing" from the balcony's edges.
Hair also succeeds because its message is intertwined with plain, good old entertainment values. The performers carrying the message are extremely attractive. Berger (Will Swenson), the Tribe's leader, though a bit far out, is basically charismatic and fun to watch. In performer Gavin Creel, the role of Claude shines. Sensitive and conflicted, Claude would like to opt out of the draft, and it's touch and go whether he will burn his draft card or not. There's a powerful, poignant scene where the males of the tribe line up to do just that. But Claude saves his decision for the last minute.
The text of the show manages to bring out our nation's history of racism, religious zeal and military aggression and still win the audience. Director Diane Paulus must have her finger on the pulses of her performers because they extract every ounce of heart, soul and humor that the script contains. Besides those mentioned above, Darius Nichols, Caissie Levy, Kacie Sheik, Allison Case and Bryce Ryness deserve the highest praise. But so does the entire ensemble, which works together so smoothly, one isn't aware that each appears to be doing a solo in his or her own sphere, "his own thing;" yet, that sense of individuality fuses to result in an overall, integrated effect.
Here choreographer Karole Armitage's work helps knit it all together. And Michael McDonald's terrific costumes carry out that sense of individuality: Each character wears something different from the others. Yet there is a sense of unity.
Located onstage, music director Nadia Digiallonardo's instrumental group adds to the joy. The last note (no pun intended) comes at the end of the show, when the cast invites the audience up onstage to dance with them. What a glorious ending; "Let the Sun Shine In."
