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HAIR - the ANTI-AMERICAN GANG-BANG HATE ROCK MUSICAL

The liturgical basis of Western drama is well-documented.  The Miracle and 
Mystery plays sought to explain the Christian legend to an illiterate flock.  At 
worst, the Church's goal was feudal servitude and subjugation; at best, 
ephiphanous rectitude.

As theatre evolved, so did the motus operandi of its practitioners: there 
were the self-aggrandizers and the light-givers.

Our HAIR, at its inception, and through most of its incarnations, was in the 
latter camp.  Springing from the 'Sixties, a period of possibilities and hope, 
it spoke about and for a generation, disenchanted with the powers-that-be and 
intent upon changing what the world was for what it could become.  I don't 
have to tell any of you about HAIR: we were all there.

Numerous attempts have been made to make age- and time-specifics works more 
current and/or accessible to modern audiences.

The British theatre and opera director, Jonathan Miller, coined the term 
"renovatio" to represent a search to find a current theatre vocabulary and point 
of view to parallel the one shared by those who first created and experienced a 
piece.

Certainly, any efforts to find a "renovatio" for HAIR would face great 
challenges.  Moreover, our world already provides striking parallels in the Viet 
Nam/Iraq and Nixon/Bush deja-vu dance.  With such self-evident resonances, is an 
update really required?

Nonetheless, there are those who, understimating the human mind's capacity to 
make meaningful leaps, might feel an updating of HAIR to be a necessity.

On to the modernization of HAIR at The Gate Theatre, London.

Firstly, let me say that if updates are to be undertaken, this script, 
reconceived and re-constructed, for this production, could not be better in keeping 
with the spirit, intent and essence of the original production in the 
following way:  The inclusion of current events, pop culture, modern political and 
social issues, have been ingeniously handled by the writer.

If a non-singing "Oprah" replaces our beloved "Tourist Lady", well, why not? 
-- we live in a tell-all culture which is more likely to "spill its guts" on 
camera than to a best friend.  Indeed, if "Hair" is sung to "Oprah's" camera 
crew rather than we, the audience, that too, bespeaks of our society.  And, yes, 
we all loathe Dubya and Condie enough to tolerate their prominence as the 
evil genies in this new/old musical.

But, here's the problem: to quote Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now", "there's 
something lost, but something's gained...", and I'm not sure that it's a fair 
exchange.

Putting aside the re-inveented script, ("Claude", on Prozac, singing a terse 
lamenting ballad, "Manchester, England, England", his parents, encouraging him 
to enlist to help pay for his university fees), there are directorial choices 
which scream "self aggrandizer" rather than "light giver."

The Space:  you arrive in a room about the size of my entire apartment (brave 
and impressive -- I'd be hard-pressed to do GODSPELL let alone HAIR in my 
home!); there are 2 giant painted curtains emblazoned with the words "Coca" and 
"Cola".  "Uh-oh," you think.  "We're going to be confronted with American 
cultural imperialism and rampant consumerism" -- OK, not a very original thesis but 
not something with which anyone would argue.  A blonde lad enters in 
abbreviated white jockey shorts and pushes aside the curtains, and proceeds to dress 
in his jeans, jacket, backpack, walkman.  A radio-style voice over tells us 
it's New York, another working day, etc.  During this, creatures in black robes 
enter (Supreme Court bigots? distorted university graduates?) with 
black-and-white rubber rolled wigs (pipelines? rollers? pasta?  I give up!).  They also 
sport masks with roses in place of their eyes (rose-colored glasses? American 
Beauties?).  Their mouths are unique - from each hang emblems reflective of 
American consumer society (a cellphone, a banner from the NY TIMES, a Dorito 
package, a Starbuck's cup).  As the radio din reaches a cacaphony, "Claude" enters 
the Times Square area and a voice advises the "1,2,3, 9, A, C, E, 7, R, N and 
Shuttle" can be reached at this junction.  "Claude" and the robed 
personalities cram into a central space for a sardine-inspired, bouncing train ride which 
becomes a din until a lone voice ("Sheila"?) shrieks, "When the moon...peace 
will guide the planets and love will steer the stars...."  Clearly, its ironic.

Throughout the rest of the number (which is aggressive and harsh), "Claude" 
tries to dodge the robed creatures who weave erratic patterns and impede his 
way.  Eventually, the voices crescendo off stage.  There is no union, no tribe, 
no love, no hope, and no people.

So far, OK, "not so good", but "original" and "tolerable".  So, "where's the 
beef?", as they say.

Before I go there, let me give credit where credit is due: a brave producer 
and theatre, heretofore content with mounting mostly new translations of 
overlooked European treasures has had the courage to take on a 20th-Century 
theatrical icon.  There's a talented and more-than-willing cast of 16 -- note, the 
original company had 21 -- giving their all.  (In fact, I could have wished they 
had given a wee bit less: regarding nudity on stage as opposed to sex in the 
home, less is definitely more!)  Especially noteworthy are "Sheila", "Jeanie", 
a female "Hud", "Berger" (for cudliness rather than power), "Claude", (for a 
fine voice, and being "game'"- having graduated RADA just last year, I expect 
this production was the farthest thing from his mind a year ago!).  Then 
there's the band of lithe, acrobatic singer-dancers who did nude cartwheels within 
six inches of my face -- something I never expected to encounter without 
someone buying someone dinner first!  And, as I've said before, I laud the attempts 
to modernize what could be seen as a period piece.

On to the "beef", or rather the "Berger":


"Berger" is discovered alone -- he rips off his trousers, introduces himself 
and launches into "Donna".  No "transcendental meditation on the Ocean of 
Reality".  No "love".

This production, as conceived by its director, eschews transcendence and love 
in favor of (for all its fornication) impotence and rage.

Every number becomes an attack on the material vocally, an assault on the 
audience emotionally, and an attack of the USA morally -- not its government, not 
its policies -- we, the people.  (Actually, it makes for a very monotonous 
evening as there is no arc, no journey, no discovery -- just a lot of shouting 
at top decible.)  The thesis is the people are the policies; the policies are 
the people.  We're all sheep. (At one point the robed/rose people bleet at one 
another, just in case we haven't gotten that point.)  Oh, and Condie Rice, 
Bush and Rumsfeld sing "Crazy for the Red, White and Blue".  Kind of missing out 
on the layer of irony as it had been previously done, and, once again, blaming 
the people for being blind sheep.

Frankly, this tack is too facile, too easy a blame-game.  It screams "Young 
Director (David) with Chip on Shoulder Trying to Attract Attention by Taking 
Shots at America (Goliath)"  Very Australian-style theatre of the 70s, actually.

I can accept that the USA has done a great many bad things, and that it's 
gotten away from we, the people.  But I'm not certain using HAIR to reinforce 
these problems is a helpful thing.

Moreover, what is more of a concern for me is the distortion of the 
principles and spirit of HAIR to serve this director's ends.

"White Boys" is a number extolling the joys of bondage and is sung by the 
female "Hud" and one black girl and man while whipping "Berger" and two other 
white boys, naked except for their leather masks etc. (Actually, this seems quite 
an English "take" on things -- the only thing missing was someone dressed up 
as a maid!).  "Black Boys" is not about "candy": -- it's an explicit 
re-enacted fornication upon inanimate objects like stage poles, microphone stands -- 
(Oh, well, black boys were in short supply in this production.  Perhaps this was 
the solution?)  And there are some obvious gaffs.  For example, here the 
entire tribe is enrolled in NYU, not just "Sheila", a school requiring a minimum 
of $25,000 per year in tuition.  How can students getting a $100,000 education 
honestly moan "Ain't Got No?"

Another instance of strange concepts: "Woof", once upon a time representative 
of the unconditional love of Man's Best Friend, is now the kind of mutt that 
would hump a guest's leg in heat!  This character, in particular, is such a 
distortion of the "Woof" of the Original Company that he deserves a few words: 
He has emerald green buzz cut hair, a naked chest, and a large tattoo 
emblazoned across it: "H.I.V.I.P".  A rather pale (and not-very-excited, I might add) 
naked blonde boy is beneath him.  "Woof" introduces himself as "Neil 'Woof' 
Donovan", goes to hump him, at which point, the boy screams, "Where's your 
condom?"  "Woof" produces a plastic surgical sheet, covers the entire body, and 
proceeds to hump the body encased in plastic while singing "Sodomy".  I might add 
this was about a foot-and-a-half from my feet!  (I wasn't very excited either, 
but I was willing to go along with changes because they were, initially, 
amusing.)

I did cringe at "Jeanie's line going into "Claude's" trip: "Whatever you 
decide to do -- know you were loved."

Eventually, though, a darker agenda became apparent.  Indeed, in "Going 
Down", I recalled our "baby angels".  In this production, the entire cast is 
wearing plastic horns and celebrating the darkening of the light whenever possible.

Whatever happened to the "dawning of the Age of Aquarius" and the light 
givers"?

Of course, that might be this director's point, but I contend that the bigger 
picture is more important than his self-serving visions.

I don't believe that the updated script of HAIR or any previous version of 
HAIR advocated hate, anger, anarchy and destruction.  

Using a piece created to expand brotherhood and peace for such distorted ends 
seems to me to be a betrayal of those who died in Viet Nam, Afghanistan, and 
Iraq.  This production can only foment terrorism, anger, hate, and vengeance, 
and pain.

To me, the definition of "sin" is "intentional wrong action".  These 
characters are more "sinning" than "sinned against".  The implication is "Aren't we 
all?"

Perhaps.  But I didn't care about any of them, and when "Claude's" black 
coffin was hauled onstage enshrouded in those ubiquitous roses, I never shed a 
tear.

Is this a message we wish to endorse, and is this the message of HAIR?

 
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