By Ruth Ross
Listen up, children! Once upon a time, way back in the previous century, American boys turning 18 received a special birthday present from Uncle Sam: a draft card, pronouncing their eligibility for military service! When the country was not at war, this "gift" was no big deal, but in the late 60s-early 70s, American soldiers were fighting in Vietnam, making every young man war bait.
To their credit, many young people did not sit idly by as their friends and family members answered the draft and went off to war. Dressed in rather odd attire (beads, feathers, loudly patterned pants and dresses); openly using illegal drugs; engaging in free love, often with members of other races, these so-called "hippies" not only enraged adults but turned the nation upside down through their exhortations to "Make love, not war" and "Hell no, we won't go" as they protested icons considered sacred by the older generations.
This situation forms the basis for the ground-breaking tribal love-rock musical, Hair, that exploded on Broadway in 1968, and itself upended the musical theater establishment. With book and lyrics by James Rado and Gerome Ragni, and music by Galt MacDermot, Hair tells the story of a "tribe" of politically active, long-haired hippies living a bohemian life in New York City's East Village. When one of their leaders, Claude, is called up by the draft board, the kids shift into protest mode, urging Claude to resist the draft, burn his draft card and even run away to Toronto, Canada. Meanwhile, Claude wrestles with his pacifist principles vs. succumbing to his conservative parents' pressure and risking his life. The result is sobering.
Known for producing shows that are "out of the box," the gutsy folks at Chester Theatre Group have staged an energetic, kinetic production of Hair, one that features 21 young singers and dancers performing on the very tight playing space in the little black box theater—and doing it in a way that no one in the cast (or audience) is harmed! Director Alan Van Antwerp (in his CTG debut) and choreographer Meghan Ferentinos are to be commended for this well-oiled production, as are the very talented kids (many of them still college students) who stress the uncomfortable fact that the themes that concerned the playwrights and their audiences 46 years ago are, unfortunately, still relevant today.
In the 21st century, the fringed vests, afros, ratty jeans and headbands look more quaint than rebellious, and kids’ singing about interracial romance and using the F-word aren’t all that earthshaking. Actually, neither tribe leader Berger nor his side-kick Claude is an attractive character; each mistreats the woman in his life, caring “more about evil and social injustice” than “a needing friend.” And, yes, the 21 actors sometimes appear to be an amorphous crowd, but several stand-outs in lead roles manage to make their characters memorable.
Most of the dialogue is told through song, much of it forgettable, but several numbers are put across by actors with talent and verve. Raven Dunbar, Marissa Garrity and Ashley Leone bemoan the scourge of pollution in “Air,” and the entire Tribe really drives home the anti-war message in “Walking in Space.” An exuberant Tribe, led by Chris Abbott (right, bottom) as a profane and in-your-face Berger and Brian Hall (standing) as the introspective romantic Claude, sing a paean to their long locks in the title song (remember how boys’ long hair drove adults crazy in the sixties?) and in a "Be-in" that closes the show, urge the audience to “Let the Sunshine In.”
As Sheila, Lindsay Braverman (left) takes Berger to task for his ill-treatment of her in “Easy to Be Hard,” long a staple of the nightclub circuit. She also leads the group in “Good Morning Starshine,” a song that later gained popularity with the toddler set through Sesame Street. And a trio of white girls—Raven Dunbar, Ashley Leone and Hannah Schroeder—praise black boys as lovers, only to be answered by a terrific trio of black girls (unfortunately, only one of them black, which blunts the point a bit)—Melrose Johnson, Ryan Mark and Chris Frazier—in a “duet” that brings down the house. Johnson is especially diva-like here.
Perhaps the song that resonates the most is “What a Piece of Work is Man.” Taking its lyrics from Shakespeare’s Hamlet (II:2) and beautifully sung after a ferocious battle leaves everyone dead, the words bounce back and forth between admiration for the nobility and beauty of man and disillusionment at how evil he can be, sentiments perhaps just as relevant and poignant today, given the events of the past decade. (Above: Brian Hall as Claude and Melrose Johnson as Hud)
For the most part, the playing space of the Black River Playhouse is bare (to accommodate the large group of actors), but scenic designers Stephen Catron, Claire Symanski and Alan Van Antwerp have painted the surrounds to resemble granite city stoops and mounted stained glass church windows around the auditorium to suggest the religious nature of the kids' beliefs. Vince Esoldi is to be applauded for the very evocative costumes and Gina Stevens for marvelous wigs, hair and make-up; I recognized a fringed vest I once had and thought with chagrin, "How could I have ever worn that?" And Jack Bender's musical direction of a 5-piece orchestra kept the energy level high, the audience's feet tapping and the playhouse floor thumping without overpowering the singers. (Above left: Top Row, Erika Traugh, Melissa Garrity, Melrose Johnson, Chris Frazier. Middle row, Laura Mullaney, Lindsay Braverma, Shane Long. Front row, Carly Hatcher, Hannah Schroeder, Kelly Miller.)
In 2003, I deemed Hair as "quaint" and "nostalgic," but the events of the past 14 years have made the play's themes all too relevant—again. With the debacles in Iraq and Afghanistan, the exploding Middle East, the antipathy (no, hatred) toward the America's first black President, congressional gridlock, and the knowledge that the young men and women fighting in our military are proxies for well-healed, educated kids who no longer have to do so, Hair urges us to seek "peace, happiness, flowers and freedom," to "let the sunshine in" by letting our government know that we don't want to "study war no more." Perhaps it's time for our young people to get up from their computers, put away their smartphones and protest; God knows, their grandparents did it in the 1960s and brought about the end of the Vietnam War! And now that they can vote, let their demands be known at the ballot box.
Hair will be performed at the Black River Playhouse, corner of Grove and Maple Streets, Chester, through July 20. I would bring teens to see the show, but leave the little ones at home. There is no nudity in this production (as there was on Broadway). For information and tickets, call the box office at 908.879.7304 or visit www.chestertheatregroup.org.
